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. And for 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—

A cat dangled from her leg, holding on by one paw.

Stupefied, she stared at the feline. It gave a loud, disgruntled meow and regained purchase by digging into her jeans and skin and pulling itself higher.

Since when did Bobby have a freaking cat?

And dammit, her leg hurt .

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.

“You little hellcat,” she muttered, rubbing her palm over her throbbing thigh. “And you ruined my jeans,” she accused, noticing the snags. Eyes smarting, she limped down the hallway to the bathroom, hoping Bobby had disinfectant.

He did. She spread the contents of the first aid kit and found the antiseptic ointment. Next, she removed her boots and socks, peeled her jeans down her legs and kicked the denim aside. The scratches were worse than she expected, and blood seeped from several of them. Gritting her teeth, she stepped into the tub. She sat on the side, adjusted the water, and aimed the hand sprayer over her thigh. It was too painful to even admire her newly manicured nails as she rubbed her fingers over the wounds, removing as much bacteria as possible. Who knows where the stupid cat had been? It must be one of the barns cats because Bobby wasn’t a fan of the standoffish creatures as he called them.

And thinking of the devil, she heard his booted tread in the hallway. And his cheerful, “Hello, beautiful,” greeting quickly changed into a shocked, “What the bloody fuck happened to you?” as he peered at her thigh.

“Since when do you have a cat?”

He frowned. “Taffy did that?”

She aimed a stink-eye at him. “Taffy? That devil? Nothing sweet about that creature. I walked in the door, and it pounced. Out of nowhere. Used my leg as a freaking climbing post.”

“I’m sorry, love.” He removed the spray from her hand and turned off the water. Darla reached for a towel, but he also took that from her. “Let me help.” With infinite care he patted her leg dry, applied the ointment, and wrapped a bandage around her thigh. “You can wear a pair of my sweatpants. Your jeans will chafe.”

She moved to lift her leg over the bath ledge, but Bobby swept her up into his arms. “I can walk,” she protested.

“But you don’t have to,” he countered, stalking to his bedroom.

Moments later he lowered her onto his bed and weirdly growled, “Get out. I’m bloody mad at you.”

She frowned. “What?”

In answer, the darned cat streaked across the bed, leaped to the floor, and dashed out of the bedroom. “When did you get a cat?”

“I didn’t.”

“I’ve a throbbing thigh that says otherwise.”

He huffed. “She followed me home one evening.”

“A stray?”

“Throwaway,” he said over his shoulder, rummaging in his dresser. Bobby handed her navy-blue sweatpants. “This should fit. One of the ranch hands discovered a sack on the side of the road. When he opened it, he found three cats.” He nodded toward the door. “That one escaped, and somehow ended up on my step.”

Her heart softened (an infinitesimal amount) toward the cat. “And the name’s Taffy?” It was a cute name.

He shrugged. “She lobbed a bag of candy off the counter and started chasing the pieces around the floor. It was kinda fun to watch.”

Darla found his sheepish look rather adorable.

Kneeling before her, he lifted her right calf and slipped a thick, warm sock over her foot.

Her eyes roamed over the top of his head. Shiny skin peeked through his short hair. Darla fisted her hands, stealing herself from touching him. And kept her back ramrod straight, lest she do something really dumb …

Like bending over and kissing that bewitching piece of exposed scalp.

Gah . Since when did she find balding men sexy?

Do not expose your heart to him , she silently reprimanded herself for that moment of weakness.

Bobby placed her left foot down and lifted his head. “What are you doing here?” he asked, rather huskily, his gaze as heated as her blood.

“How did you know I was here?” she countered. She hadn’t expected him for a couple of hours.

“Security alerted me. And don’t sidestep my question. I told you I was planning on getting a lift back to town and collect my truck from your place, so don’t tell me it was to return my truck.”

Why was Bobby so offish with her? “Is it a problem that I’m here?”

He huffed. “You are always welcome here, Darla. I love that you are here.”

“Then why are you upset with me?”

“I’m not upset with you.”

“ Humph .” She folded her arms. “You certainly sound upset.”

“You, Darla Miller, truly try the patience of a saint. A saint I 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 could see the battle waging in her dark, intense stare.

Patience, Bellerose. Patience. She’s worth the trouble.

And she’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 she look 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?”

“Bjorn.”

“Robert Bjorn Bellerose,” she mused.

He really liked hearing Darla say his full name.

“Was it hard? Leaving them, coming here?”

“My family?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Not at first. But then, when the lies piled up—”

“Hang on.” She turned to face him. “Lies? You lied to your family, too?”

Bollocks . “Till last year, they had no idea I was even in the USA. Never mind Texas.”

“Where did they think you were?”

“Australia.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “Working on a remote cattle station.”

“But you had contact with them?”

“Sporadic video calls masked by multiple VPNs so my location could not be pinpointed.”

She stared at him, long and hard. “Have they forgiven you?”

“Mostly, yeah. They haven’t admitted it, but I think Mum and Dad knew all along what I was doing, just not where . Four of my sisters are still nursing their hurt, but Ilse, the one closest to me in age, won’t even acknowledge that I’m alive.”

“That’s … hard. You have a brother, too?”

“Yeah. Stuart. The youngest of us seven. We’re cool.”

“Seven,” she murmured, giving a slight shudder.

He grinned. “Never a dull moment growing up.”

“I bet.”

Bobby risked the next question. “How many kids do you want?” It was something he’d been thinking of recently. Having another.

She tilted her head and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Seriously?”

“Being an only child could be lonely.”

She exhaled softly and stared down at her lap. “Maybe we should get this one born first.”

“Fair enough.”

A brief uncomfortable silence followed his reply. Had he pushed her too far? Opening his mouth to speak, Bobby closed it again when Darla cleared her throat.

“Do you regret … coming here?” she asked. “To Texas.”

He took his time answering. It was a double-edged sword. “I regret the reason that brought me here. Losing Edmund …” He trailed off, the loss, even fifteen years on, was still painful. “Edmund took a bullet protecting the woman he loved. I understand what drove him to do it, but his death meant I’d failed my duty.”

At first, he and several other members of the Royal Guard had been hauled before a committee and accused of dereliction of duty. But Edmund’s instinctive actions had been caught on multiple cameras, and they’d been cleared.

“Tell me about him.”

“He was my best friend, Darla. We grew up together. Knew each other’s secrets. Hopes. Fears. When he joined the army, it was a no-brainer for me to go with. To have his back. Be a brother. Same reason I took up the position in the Royal Guard.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Her soft-spoken but sincere words touched him on a visceral level. His throat, already thick with emotion, closed, and it took a couple of hard swallows to clear it. “Nobody’s ever said that to me.”

And the whole conversation felt surreal, but good.

Cathartic, even.

He looked down at their linked hands.

Darla was here, in his home. And she had come at her own volition. Asking questions about his past.

Listening to his answers .

His eyes burned with tears of gratefulness. He considered it a huge step forward.

And decided to prod a bit deeper. To reveal the other side of his pain. “I regret Edmund’s death. But Darla, I have never regretted coming to Texas.”

That earned him another penetrating stare. “Why?”

“Because I met you.”