Page 7 of Darla's Christmas Knight
Except the band sang about lost loves and broken lives and cheating spouses and empty promises.
Nothing cheerful about those topics.
“Another wine, D?” the bartender asked, removing her demolished plate and empty wineglass.
Why the hell not? It wasn’t as if she had afamilywaiting for her, and she could easily order a ride home. “Please.”
“How about you let me buy it for you?” a man asked, sliding onto the stool beside hers.
She turned to look at the dark-haired man with the velvet voice and vivid blue eyes. “Well, hello handsome.”
Those piercing eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”
Dammit, Sullivan Lawson knew her too well.I’m jealous of a teenager celebrating Christmas with her new baby,she almost blurted out. Instead, she shrugged. “Hectic day.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
And just like that the idea formed.
It was a crazy idea.
One she’d have to think over and weigh the pros and cons before discussing it with him.
One that would alter her and Sullivan’s friends-with-benefits arrangement.
But maybe, just maybe, shecouldbe pregnant by Christmas.
3
A month later …
From the shade of the hastily erected triage tent, Darla viewed the carnage left in the tornado’s wake with despair.It could’ve been worse, she kept telling herself. The hardest hit was Cedar Lodge, the retirement village, and surrounding streets. So far, there were no reported fatalities, the towns’ residents having sought shelter in time. But several people were still missing, and rescue teams worked through the destroyed homes looking for survivors.
“Darla.”
Her stomach somersaulted at the familiar voice calling her name. She had seen him among the swarm of folk who arrived to help with rescue operations earlier but managed to put him out of her mind while dealing with the many injuries. She steeled herself for the onslaught of emotions before turning to face him.
He looked much like he had the first time she’d seen him — dressed in dusty clothes, a cowboy hat shading his traitorous face.
Bobby Bell a.k.a. Robert Bellerose a.k.a. Wretched Lying Scumbag.
She forced her gaze away from those mesmerizing pale eyes,berating her heart for the increase in her pulse.
He held a young child in his arms, the girl’s visibly upset mother right beside him. “This is Mia. She cut her leg on a piece of wood.”
Ah, that voice. That slight, but delicious accent infiltrating his Texas twang. Itstillaffected her in a visceral manner. When she first met him, she (along with the rest of the town’s duped folk) assumed he’d spent some time in England. And he had done nothing to correct their thinking.
But no,SirRobert, undercover in Texas on a secret mission, hailed from the archipelago of islands called Andraste, located in the middle of the freaking Atlantic Ocean.
“Darla.”
Darla shook off her resentment and focused on the girl in his arms. “Hello, Mia,” she said, grabbing a fresh pair of gloves from the nearby container. She nodded her head toward a gurney, and Bobby laid the child down with infinite care before stepping back, giving Mia’s mom room to step closer. “How did you hurt your leg, honey?” she asked, unwrapping the bloodstained towel, revealing jagged cuts on both sides of her shins. Poor kid.
“I’s look for Buttons,” Mia sobbed.
“Her leg slipped between two pieces of torn siding,” the mom said. “ItoldMia not to walk on the rubble looking for a darn knitted toy.”
At least Buttons wasn’t a pet. “Did you find Buttons, Mia?” Out of the corner of her eye, Darla noticed Bobby walk away. Then berated herself for even noticing. Mia deserved her full attention.
