Page 39 of Darla's Christmas Knight
She took his weight, reveling in it.
He was hers.Hers.
Robert Björn Bellrose was her future.
And she was not letting him go.
But she might make him grovel a bit more.
*
“Taffy!”
Darla lifted her head at the sound of Bobby’s annoyed cry. She pulled the shirt over her head, patted her wayward curls, and sauntered out of the bedroom. Despite their disastrous introduction, she and Taffy had called a truce.
“Seriously, cat,” he continued. “You’re one incident closer to being evicted to the barn.”
Her gaze followed the cat zipping around the coffee table before leaping into her rather elaborate multilevel lair. It shook with the force of her jump. “That’s a bit harsh.”
“If it wasn’t for the fact that she’s booked for spaying next week, I’d haul her there right now.”
“What has she— Oh.” Darla blinked, cocking her head as she surveyed the bits of meat littering the glass stovetop. “At least she only ate from the one corner.”
Bobby merely grunted.
“And the mash is untouched,” she added, lifting the lid off the bowl filled with whipped potato.
He raised a brow. “You’redefendingthe menace?”
Darla grinned. “We had a little talk earlier.”
She picked up the serving spoon and scraped around the missing chunk of meatloaf. None of the yummy sauce covering the remainder of the loaf seemed disturbed. “See? More than enough left,” she said, disposing the contaminated meat in the trashcan. “But we do need to reheat the food.”
She ignored the puzzled looks Bobby kept throwing her way as they moved around the small area, both their stomachs grumbling in anticipation.
They opted to sit in front of the fire and eat. Initial hunger sated, she casually said, “No more than six foot.”
Stuffing his mouth, Bobby mumbled, “What?”
“My tree. Max six foot. Last year I tried an eight-footer, but it dwarfed my living room.”
He shook his head, scooping his next bite onto his fork. “Darla, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“MyChristmastree, Robert.You shine brighter than the Christmas lights. Rather cheesy message.”
Hand halted halfway to his mouth, he gaped at her. Then his eyes shot to the desk in the corner of the living room, and back to her. Lowering his fork, his face glowed a dull red. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bopping. “How?”
“Taffy.” At least he didn’t accuse her ofsnooping. Which she had. Totally. Call it payback forhissnooping and spoilingherpregnancy surprise.
“Taffy?”
“She used your desk as a landing strip. I tidied up after her. And found your … list.” At first, she had stared at the paper in confusion, unable to make sense of the scribbles and arrows and deleted words, but then a pattern formed as certain things jumped out at her. “When I understood what I was looking at, I stopped reading. But I did notice the little Christmas tree drawn next to a sixteen withbuywritten in before it.” She squinted at him and gave a lopsided grin. “Promise I did not look through the stack of cards.” A girl’s gotta keep something for a surprise.
At first, she considered not telling him about her discovery, but Bobby was a smart man and would recognize feigned surprise. If she wanted complete honesty from him, he deserved the same from her.
“It’s a family tradition,” he mumbled placing his fork down.
She fluttered her eyelids. “‘Wooing Darla’ is a family tradition?” she asked, reciting the heading of the list. Andhowwas it possible for his face to flame more?
