Page 1 of Darla's Christmas Knight
Prologue
Years ago …
She stared at her dead cellphone in disgust. Seriously? She flung the useless device through the open front window and watched it bounce off the passenger seat to land in the footwell.
Ugh!
Technology.
And kicked the tire of her equally dead car. “Mothertrucking piece of scrap metal. Five miles. I just needed five more miserable miles before you died on me.”
Bracing her hands on her hips, she scanned the road behind. Nothing but the shimmer of heatwaves. Reminding her of the scorching sun blazing down on her unprotected head, the sweat running in rivulets between her breasts, the damp cotton sticking to her skin. She gathered a handful of braids, lifting them off her back, hoping for some relief. But there was no breeze to cool her heated skin. She dropped her arms in defeat, wincing when her soaked bra chafed her skin. Tears prickled her eyes, and she furiously blinked them away.I will not cry.
“I will not cry,” she repeated aloud, balling her fists in her waist instead of dropping to the dusty earth and bawling her eyes out. She’d shed enough tears since—
Stop! Not thinking of him again.
That chapter of her life was done. He was not worth another thought.
Besides, the tears she cried were tears ofshame, not heartache.
Shading her eyes with a hand, she looked to the cloudless blue sky. “Is this my punishment. Huh? Karma for the mistakes I made?”
She chuffed a bitter laugh and dropped her hand. “Ouch,” she muttered, the skin beneath her breasts burning as the wire-encased seam shifted.
Darla looked around. No traffic. Good. Reaching back, she lifted her tank top and slipped her hands beneath the damp cotton, unhooking her bra. And sighed at the instant relief. Moving a hand to her shoulder, she hooked a finger under the strap and tugged it down her arm and over her hand. She repeated the process with the other side, pulled the loose bra from under her shirt, and—
She felt the vibration from the earth before she heard the thundering sound.
Her body froze.
This wasTexas.
Cattlecountry.
Stampeding herds were a thing.
And a five-strand wire fence would not protect her.
She spun around, bracing for the coming onslaught.
It was a horse.
A white horse.
With a rider.
Galloping across the pasture.
Her jaw slackened as she watched them close the distance. They made quite a picture. Almost poetical in a surreal but exquisite manner.
Horse and rider came to a halt with a spray of grass and dust on the other side of the fence mere feet away. The cowboy jumped off and swaggered closer. The long-sleeved, green-checkered shirt clung to his lean torso, worn jeans hugged his slender hips, scuffed boots protected his feet. “Ma’am,” he said, lifting the straw hat in greeting.
Sun glinted off his short blond hair. A smile curved his lips, crinkling his eyes. Pale blue crystalline, they raked over her, and she felt his heated stare right into the very heart of her. It wasn’t lascivious in a sleazy manner, but oh boy, the cowboylikedwhat he saw.
Just assheliked what she saw.
Gah.
