Page 34 of Darla's Christmas Knight
“Then why are you upset with me?”
“I’mnotupset with you.”
“Humph.” She folded her arms. “You certainlysoundupset.”
“You, Darla Miller, truly try the patience of a saint. A saintI am not.” He straightened to his full height. “All I want is an answer, an honest answer, to my question,” he said, staring down at her with a brow cocked, his own arms folded.
*
Annoyed, Bobby steeled himself from walking away from her. It’s what she expected. What was preventing her from trusting him. But bollocks, she was being stubborn, denying what was buried below all the hurt and distrust. He couldseethe battle waging in her dark, intense stare.
Patience, Bellerose. Patience. She’s worth the trouble.
Andshe’s the mother of your unborn child. You need to dig deep, burrow your way below the hardened shell.
“I wanted to thank you for taking care of my car today,” she whispered, rubbing her fingers over her forehead. “And for loaning me your truck. It was a very thoughtful gesture, one I really appreciated.” She pulled in a breath. “So I figured I’d cook you a meal.”
And there it was — the sweetness of the woman who stole his heart.
Bobby sat beside her. Her body shifted closer with the give of the mattress. He grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. He risked a kiss to her temple. “I know you don’t like driving in snow. And yesterday, you mentioned you had several home visits this morning.”
He wasn’t going to upset her by adding he’d noticed the state of her tires several days ago, and the idea of Darla risking her life and that of their baby by driving in less-than-ideal conditions left him cold. Buckled into his truck, she had a better chance of surviving a collision and less chance of losing control on a slick patch. His other option had been to drive her, but she’d have nixed that idea out of hand. And soon he’d start suggesting shelook at a more suitable—
“It’s time I traded for a new vehicle,” Darla said.
Thank fuck.Just what he was thinking. “An SUV?”
“Yeah.” She cocked her head to look at him, eyes narrowing. “You sound … relieved?”
He widened his eyes. “Me?”
To his relief, she laughed, punching his arm lightly. “You’re full of shit, Sir Robert.”
He frowned. “You can leave off the Sir part, love. But I do like hearing you say my given name.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“What does your family call you?”
“Bobby. Only my parents call me Robert. Sometimes Mum calls me Bear.”
She chuckled. “Bear?”
He shrugged. “Not sure how that one came about.”
“Do you have a middle name?”
“Björn.”
“Robert Björn Bellerose,” she mused.
Hereallyliked hearing Darla say his full name.
“Was it hard? Leaving them, coming here?”
“My family?” he asked.
