Page 40 of Darla's Christmas Knight
“On the last Sunday of November, our family gathers to write little cards of appreciation about each other. Twenty-four Advent cards. And we peg them on string strung across my parents’ living room. On Christmas morning, my parents read them aloud. I—”
He stopped talking when she took his plate and set it down on the coffee table beside hers. And swung her legs over his, settling her butt on his thighs.
She placed her hands on either side of his head. “Ireallylike your daily notes,” she said, huskily. “And the fact that you take the time out of your hectic morning routine to drive into town to deliver—”
A thought popped up. “Youdodrive into town yourself?”
Placing his hands on her thighs, he whispered, “I’d never delegate such an important task.”
Her heart melted, and she lowered her head and rested herforehead on his. “I like being wooed, Robert.”
His hands slipped beneath the cotton top, moving up her back, his callused palms scraping lightly over her skin. He applied pressure to his fingertips, and she shifted her hips forward.
“I like wooing you,” he murmured, his mouth closing over hers.
Much later Bobby lay on the rug before the fireplace, with her sprawled over his torso. Resting her chin on linked fingers, Darla looked at him from beneath hooded eyelids. “I really like bumping hips with you.”
Beneath her, his body shook with laughter. “That’s good, because I really,reallylike bumping hips withyou.”
The scraping sound of steel against china had them both lifting their heads to look in the direction of their discarded plates. “Taffy,” they yelled in unison.
Taffy paid them no heed, continuing nibbling away what her humans discarded
“Guess we’d better save her from getting sick,” Bobby muttered, rubbing his hands over her butt cheeks.
She huffed and pushed onto her elbows. “And I need to visit the bathroom.”
He pulled her back down. “In a minute.”
A minute morphed into two, then three, but eventually they got to their feet, and she stumbled to the bathroom. On returning, she found him in the kitchen. “Let me help.”
He shook his head and pointed a spoon to the couch. “Go sit. Put your feet up.”
Which suited her just fine. After three intense orgasms, she was content to sit on her behind and stare into the crackling fire. A glass of wine would’ve rounded off the glorious evening, but yeah, that was not an option. Her gaze moved around the room. Not much had changed in the years since she had last been here.
Except for the framed photos on the mantelpiece.
And the large family portrait hanging above his desk. She hadn’t noticed it earlier, too fascinated with discovering his list.
She studied it now. Smiling couple with their seven children ranging in age from baby to early teen. The siblings were a mix of their parents, some with dark hair, some fair like Bobby. It was easy to pick him up in the group. He got his looks from his mother.
It struck her. Robert Björn Bellrose was a family man. One who spoke of his parents with love in his voice, admitted deep regret that his one sister refused to forgive him.
And he was no longer hiding. He openly displayed his family; his undercover Bobby Bell days were over.
She turned her head and looked at that man moving around the kitchen. A kitchen in a cabin set on a ranch in the harsh Texas Panhandle, thousands of miles from the islands.
A man who chose to stay in a place where the summer sun burnt his skin, and the winters withered his nuts.
A man who considered her worthy enough to make a list to woo her.
To win back her love.
Her gaze returned to the painting.
She looked forward to meeting them one day.
And setting his recalcitrant sister in her place.
