Page 32 of Darla's Christmas Knight
“How?” she whispered back.
“Yesterday morning, before I left, I noticed your purse lying on the floor. I picked it up but something fell out. I recognized the logo on the paper, and yes, I invaded your privacy and read the report.” He held his hands up in surrender. “You have every right to yell at me, but” — Bobby couldn’t stop the smug smile forming and awe entered his tone — “bloody hell, Darla, you’repregnant.”
Her expression was unreadable. “It’s still early days …” But her words and voice spoke of a wealth of caution.
“I know, love,” he said, stepping nearer, pulling her in for a hug.
She sagged against him, and he happily took her weight. “Your jacket is cold,” she muttered.
“It’s bloody freezing outside.”
She gave a small laugh. “Wuss.” Slipping her arms around his neck, she leaned back and looked up at him. “I’m glad you know.”
He linked his fingers in the small of her back. “Me, too. You feeling okay? No morning sickness? Cravings?”
“It’s early days still, so no side effects. And yes, I am feeling good.”
“You’ll let me know if that changes and you need anything? Anything, love. Even middle of the night runs for weird food requests.” It bothered him that he wasn’t with her every night. But hopefully by the time her pregnancy caused physical changes, they’d have resolvedthatissue.
“I’ll let you know.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Bending forward, he placed a light kiss on the tip of her nose. “I’ll hold you to that.”
She lowered her arms, but he held on, not yet ready to let go of her. “We’re having a baby, Darla,” he said in wonderment, the excitement he’d held in check for the last twenty-four hours spilling over.
A smile broke across her face, matching his grin. “We are.”
10
Darla parked in front of Bobby’s cabin and second-guessed her impulsive plan. Maybe she should just scurry back home? Forget this crazy idea of hers?
“Don’t be the wuss you called him this morning,” she muttered, pushing open the truck door. All it really boiled down to was her cooking a meal as thanks for his thoughtful gesture today.Andfor the spa voucher she received. It had arrived mid-morning with a card featuring a penguin on a blue background and the number six in the left corner.
You deserve spoiling.
Your appointment is for 2 p.m.
She grinned. After a manicure, she’d indulged in a relaxing hot stone massage. It had been sublime. A perfect way to spend her free afternoon.
Laden with a heavy grocery tote in one hand and her purse slung over her shoulder, she climbed the steps to his small porch. And faced the next obstacle. His front door. Did he still leave it unlocked? If not, she’d see it as a sign, turn around, and forget her plan.
She tried the handle. It clicked open.
Darla exhaled, entered the cabin, and closed the door with her foot. And screamed when something bumped against her leg, followed by darts of pain over her thigh. She dropped the groceries and frantically batted her hands against her leg. Looking down, she saw—
Acatdangled from her leg, holding on by one paw.
Stupefied, she stared at the feline. It gave a loud, disgruntled meow and regained purchase bydiggingintoher jeans and skinand pulling itself higher.
Since when did Bobby have a freaking cat?
And dammit, her leghurt.
Closing her hands around the small body, she yanked. With a yowl, the cat unlatched its claws from her leg, and Darla tossed the squirming creature toward the couch. It landed on the cushion and arched its back in fury, hissing at her.
