9

Enough was enough. Bobby grabbed her hand. “Tell me what’s eating at you, Darla?” He had an inkling, and wished she would just spit it out.

But she pulled her hand away and glared at him. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie, Darla.”

The look she gave him? Dagger sharp. At least the misery was gone. He’d take combative Darla over sad Darla any day. He turned his stool, placing one booted foot on the bottom rung of her chair, and gentled his tone. “Talk to me, love.”

She placed her forearms on the table and huffed at her food. “You’re so annoying.”

“Hmm.”

Another huge sigh escaped her. He took hold of her shoulders and turned her to face him, boxing her legs in with his. Darla lowered her eyes and mumbled something about him being a pain in the ass. She tried turning back to the counter.

But Bobby kept his feet firmly on the foot rung, preventing the chair from swiveling. He wanted answers. Wanted everything out in the open. He took her hands in his. “Waiting.”

Pursing her lips, she narrowed her eyes.

He merely raised his brows.

“Fine,” she spat. “You really want to know?”

“I do.”

She tilted her chin up. “I don’t trust you.”

The statement stung. But it wasn’t unexpected. “It’s not like before. I’m here for the long haul.”

Her eyes, still damp from the tears, shone as bright as polished onyx. “I want to believe you. Robert.”

Hearing her say his full name did something to him in a deep, visceral way. Pity it was said in a very sarcastic tone. “You opened the door and let me back into your life again, love,” he calmly pointed out, “and I have no intention of leaving. Because I’m in love with you. You , Darla Joyce Miller, hold my heart and my soul, and I am desperate to be part of your life. To remain part of your life. Till death do us part.”

She blinked. Rapidly. Then. “You … Are you …? You’re not proposing , are you?” she ended in an urgent whisper.

The shock in her voice was a stab to his heart. He gave a hard laugh to cover his hurt. “Hell, no.”

She blanched, her vibrant skin taking on a dull greyish brown hue, her eyes stricken before she averted them. She tried to pull her hands from his grasp, but he tightened his hold and leaned in. “Look at me.” He waited until she — very reluctantly — met his gaze. “When I propose, and Darla, it’s a when , not an if , there will be no doubt in your mind about my intentions.”

Color flooded back into her cheeks. “That wasn’t part of our agreement,” she snapped, yanking her hands free.

Fuck. This woman will be the death of me.

“This” — he waved a hand between them — “was never about a baby. It was all about you. About a way to worm my way back into your life. That I get a baby, your baby, out of the deal is a marvelous bonus.”

“Oh.”

He almost smiled. Almost. But he was too worked up, and she had tried his patience to the nth degree. And he had responsibilities back at the ranch.

He got to his feet, towering over her. “I love you, Darla. I have loved you for many years. I will love you tomorrow and the day after. I will love you till the day I take my dying breath. But right now, I am going back to the ranch. Not because I am running from you, despite your vexing behavior. But because snow is expected tonight, and I need to check up on the horses before I turn in. I suggest you take this time to think about what I said. And remember … I will be back.”

He snagged his keys, his wallet, strode to the door, and let himself out before he changed his mind.

*

Darla stared out the window with dismay. The expected light dusting of snow turned into an overnight storm that dumped more than a foot of the fluffy white stuff. She hated driving in the fluffy white stuff, thanks to an accident while driving in the fluffy white stuff . It hadn’t been a bad accident, but the feeling of helplessness with her car sliding across the road and ending in a ditch still haunted her. With everything going on in her life, she hadn’t gotten around to replacing her balding tires. Driving her car in such bad conditions was reckless. And she had two home visits this morning, which meant a lot of time on outlying roads.

She placed a hand on her midriff.

Risking her life was one thing, but it wasn’t just her safety to consider anymore.

She’d have to call her brother. Ask to use his Jeep. Listen to his lecture. For sure her mother would hear about it and add her two-cents worth. And she’d have to spend her free afternoon at King’s getting tires replaced. “Dammit,” she muttered, knocking her head on the glass.

The sound echoed around her bedroom, and it took a moment to realize it was someone knocking on her front door.

A quick glance at the bedside clock showed 6:10. Seriously? A visitor this early? She stomped out of the room (as much as one could stomp on thick carpeting) and out into the hallway. At least her feet made a satisfying slapping sound on the hardwood flooring.

She turned the lock and pulled open the door.

And gasped.

“Did you even look?” Bobby growled.

She blinked. “Look?”

“Look.” He stabbed a finger at the little object in the center of her door. “Through the peephole. Before you blithely opened the door? I could be anybody, Darla. A stalker. A killer.”

“But you’re not.”

“But I could be.”

She narrowed her eyes, lifted her chin, and fisted her hands on her hips, and focused all her vexation on the cause of her restless sleep. “How do you even know I didn’t look? And who uses words like blithely ?”

His expression changed, softening, heating as his eyes trailed over her. And of course, her traitorous body reacted, forgetting it was dog-tired.

And of course , his gaze zeroed in on her nipples doing their darndest to push through the soft cotton fabric—

Oh shit, she was wearing his shirt.

One from years ago. One she had dug out from the very back of her closet because she freaking missed him last night.

Maybe he wouldn’t notice? She folded her arms and tapped her foot. “What are you doing here?” she muttered, acutely aware that instead of hiding her budding problem, pulling taut the material only enhanced it.

He mimicked her pose, adding a lean-against-the-doorframe. “Love you kept my shirt, darling,” he drawled in his faint foreign accent that warmed her blood and made her tingle.

Gah!

*

It took everything in Bobby not to haul Darla into his arms and ravish her. Right there against the wall of her entry. At first, her blasé attitude toward her safety had annoyed him, but then he’d noticed her attire and everything else faded into the background. His old T-shirt hit mid-thigh, leaving a delicious amount of bare skin for him to ogle. It would take nothing to push aside those panties she wore and feast on everything she had to offer. But he tamped down the building desire. He had a huge load of work waiting for him, but coming here had been more important.

He pushed off the wall. “I need your car keys.”

Her scowl deepened. “My car keys. Why?”

“New tires.”

“Huh?”

“You need new tires, love. Yours are done. In case you haven’t looked out the window, there’s a good foot of snow on the roads, and more forecast.” He held up his hand, dangling his keys in the air. “You’ll drive my truck today, and I’ll get your tires sorted. And get King’s to make sure your car is good for winter.” At first, the idea of winterizing machinery had boggled his mind, but after seizing an engine he’d woken up to understand that he no longer lived in a temperate climate.

She gaped at him for a beat. “You want to put new tires on my car?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” she croaked.

“Because you’re my woman, and it’s my job to take care of you.” As the words left his mouth, Bobby knew he’d shoved the proverbial foot into his mouth.

“I’m not your woman,” she snapped. “And it’s my car. My problem.”

Fuck . “Darla. Let me do this for you. Please.”

“No.”

Bloody hell. Stubborn woman.

“You carrying my baby?” he boomed.

Her eyes widened. “W-what?”

Bloody bollocks.

He had not meant to blurt out that he knew she was pregnant. Not yet. And most definitely not in the hallway outside her apartment. He pushed past her and closed the door. And turned to face her, his eyes briefly dropping to her belly before fixing on hers. “I know,” he whispered.

“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’re pregnant .”

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 resolved that issue.

“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.”