Page 4 of Darla's Christmas Knight
And noted the pink lace the silk scarf had concealed.
The vision of that first moment he’d lain eyes on her, all hot and sweaty and grumpy and absolutely stunning, filled his mind.
Black braids reaching to her waist.
Sun glinting off her sweat dappled forehead.
Full lips moving as she spouted sassy words.
And then she tossed her bra.
Herpinkbra.
The one in his drawer. Beside his underwear.
Throw them out. Stop torturing yourself with reminders of her.
But he ignored the sound advice his mind offered and painstakingly refolded the silk scarf and placed it back in its place.
Grabbing his boxer briefs, he slammed the drawer, rattling the photo on the top of the dresser.
2
Darla Miller shoved a coffee pod in place and yanked the lever down, stifling a yawn. She loved her job, truly, but the middle of the night callouts not so much, especially when it turned out to be a false alarm. But with her boss on a much-needed vacation, she was on standby.
She grabbed the coffee mug, added milk and the one sugar she allowed herself, and took a grateful sip. Her eyes fluttered closed in appreciation for a beat. How people survived without coffee was beyond her comprehension. Mug in hand, she made her way down the hallway and into the bathroom. She took another swallow and set the mug on the vanity. Frowning, she leaned closer to the mirror and squinted at her image.
Was that another grey hair? Well, darn it all. It was, too. She huffed out a beleaguered breath. Just another reminder that her biological clock was running out.
Tick tock. Tick tock.
Like she needed physical reminders.
Her mother, Lord bless the exasperating woman, verbally reminded her weekly of the lack of grandbabies from “my sole female progeny.” Not that her parents lacked grandbabies. Courtesy of theirmaleprogeny, to use that archaic term her mother bandied about, there were a total ofsevengrandchildrenranging from three months to eighteen years.
But apparently there was something special about adaughter’sbabies.
“And Iwantbabies, Momma,” Darla whispered.
A while ago, she had toyed with the idea of going the IVF and donor sperm route. Unfortunately, she was old-fashioned enough to want children in the traditional manner.
Darla shrugged out of her teal silk nightie and pushed it, together with the matching underwear, over her hips. She kicked both items toward the hamper, grabbed the shower cap, and commenced her morning routine.
Her drive to work was short, and she pulled in her designated parking spot behind the small building housing Blaze Maternity Center feeling ready for the day. She had been working here for almost a decade, and she wouldn’t trade it for anything. Each day brought new challenges, but it was the small victories and the personal connections that made it all worthwhile. Nothing beat watching a baby take its first breath. If only …
“Stop it,” she muttered. “No regrets today. You lead a good and fulfilling life.”
And before her boss, Lee Darling, left on her cruise, she had sat Darla down and offered a partnership. Lee wanted to open another clinic and needed Darla to run the Bulwark one. It was a great opportunity, and she’d be a fool to turn it down. Well, Momma Miller hadnotraised a fool, and with Lee gone, it gave Darla a chance with experimenting running the show.
She climbed the steps leading to the back entrance, keyed in her code, and pushed into the small kitchen area. The smell of percolating coffee intermingled with freshly baked goods greeted her. She dropped her purse on the table and lifted the corner of the bakery box, taking a quick peek. Puffy cheese croissants nestled beside chunky nut-sprinkled muffins. Her stomach rumbled despite the slice of peanut butter toast she’dconsumed with her second cup of coffee earlier. A quick glance at the clock above the sink showed that digging into the treats would have to wait, and she hurried across the room to stow her personal items in her locker. But the lure was too great, and she tore off a piece from a croissant, moaning as the flaky pastry almost dissolved on her tongue.
After greeting Mindy, the receptionist, Darla made her way to Lee’s office. She reviewed the schedule, noting a mix of prenatal appointments, a few post-natal follow-ups, and a couple of routine annual visits. Nothing critical. And she personally knew all but one patient.
She took a moment to sit back and cast a glance around the office. It was a cozy and welcoming area, if somewhat countrified. The wall was plastered with images of babies along with thank you cards, and even a few first birthday snaps. Like Darla, Lee Darling had never married, never had children, and she often referred to the clinic as her baby.
A wave of melancholy settled over Darla.
Yes, her job fulfilled her. But she wanted more.
