Читать книгу What a Woman Wants - Tori Carrington - Страница 11

T he four-bedroom farmhouse on the outskirts of town sat nestled in the middle of the Promised Land Farm, 150 acres of ripe farmland that had just been plowed and planted. Having been raised in an apartment over the Laundromat in downtown Old Orchard, Darby usually took great satisfaction in her home, her surroundings, living the life she’d always longed to but never had until she married Erick.

Right now, however, she just wished the world would stop spinning for thirty seconds.

No, ten. That was all she needed. Just enough time to find the patience she usually had for the people who tried to help her out since Erick’s death but somehow managed to make life even more of a challenge.

She’d returned home after her doctor’s appointment to find that the teenage girl from up the road had left the pen gate open when she’d fed the animals. Everything from a llama to a miniature horse was left trampling all over the crooked rows of corn Old Man McCreary had planted last week. And now Erin had let Billy the Goat into the kitchen, the dinner potatoes were boiling over, Lindy was on Darby’s heels with nonstop questions, and somewhere in the house the cordless phone was ringing, even though Darby couldn’t for the life of her remember where she’d left it.

“Mom, do babies really come from mommies’ stomachs?” Lindy’s latest question nearly sent Darby skidding across the tile as she tried to keep Billy from devouring the blue-and-white checkered tablecloth. She tugged on the full-grown goat’s collar, and he in turn tugged on the tablecloth, sending the dinner placements crashing to the floor.

Darby sighed, nearly backing into Lindy. “Yes, sweetie, babies really do come from mommies’ stomachs.”

She swallowed hard. There wasn’t even a remote chance that her six-year-old daughter was talking about her own mommy, or the brother or sister who was on the way.

She tousled the girl’s blond curls as she bent over to retrieve the plastic cups. She’d learned long ago that while plastic might not be the most refined choice, it was the most practical. And the latest mishap only served to prove the point.

“But…” Lindy began.

Darby began stacking the plates and gathering the silverware, then leaned over and switched off the heat under the pan of potatoes. “Lindy, you remember when Petunia had her colt last year, don’t you?”

From the corner, where Erin was ineffectually pulling on Billy’s lead, came a laugh. Then Lindy said, “Mom, Petunia’s baby came out of her butt.”

Darby snapped upright, finding the imagery on top of everything else a little much. She wasn’t going to touch that one with a ten-foot pole. The girls were six. She’d explained where babies come from when Petunia gave birth and wasn’t quite up to another run-through just now. Not considering she’d be coming awfully close to describing the circumstances that had led to her own current pregnancy.

“It did not come out of her butt, stupid,” Erin said, giving up trying to control the goat and planting her hands on her hips.

“What did we agree about name-calling, Erin?” Darby asked.

“Dummy,” Lindy said to her sister, then stuck out her tongue.

Darby put her hand on Lindy’s head and turned her in the other direction. “Go see if you can find the phone before it stops ringing, okay?” As soon as one twin was out of the room, she turned to the other. Completely oblivious to her mother, Erin opened the back door and gave Billy a swift kick to the hind leg. The goat brayed and darted outside.

“Erin!” Darby gasped, appalled at her daughter’s actions.

“Whoa there, buddy,” a male voice sounded.

Darby’s heart hiccupped as she waited for the visitor to show himself. A second later, John’s hesitantly smiling face appeared on the other side of the screen.

“Hi,” he said.

Hi, indeed. Amidst the chaos swirling around Darby, just looking at John standing there, crisp and fresh in his sheriff’s uniform, his hair neat, his chin shaved, his grin warm and sexy, made her feel a different kind of chaos swirl inside of her. He looked better than any one man had a right to. Always had. But now that she’d not only been intimate with him but carried his child, she felt a connection that bound them as surely as the attraction that hummed between them.

“Um, hi,” Darby managed, hoping her smile wasn’t silly or too revealing. But so what if it was? She was glad to see him.

She watched his hazel eyes water. He turned his head, then sneezed.

Allergies. The goat…

Erin soundly closed the door in John’s face even as he murmured a “Pardon me” for the sneeze.

“Erin!” Horrified, Darby stared at her daughter. First the kick to the goat, then slamming the door on John. What had gotten into the girl? While Erin’s tongue could be sharper than a rapier, Darby had never known her daughter to be cruel to any of the animals, and she’d certainly never displayed anything but adoration for her “Uncle Sparky,” a title bestowed on John before the girls could even walk. Just that morning she’d flung herself at him as if he were king of the world. What had happened to change that?

Darby hurried to the door, nearly tripping over Lindy as she came rushing in from the other room, the cordless phone in her hand.

“It’s Aunt Jolie, Mama.”

“Thanks, sweetie.” Darby took the phone, then opened the door. John still stood there, his shocked expression likely mirroring her own. “I’m so sorry, John. Come. Come in.”

Darby moved from the door and whispered to Erin, “That was very rude. Apologize.”

Erin stuck out her bottom lip, stalked to the kitchen table and plopped down in her chair. Darby gave John an apologetic look. “I’ll be with you in just a moment.” She lifted the receiver to her ear. “Hi, Jolie. Is it all right if I call you back?”

Her best friend and sister-in-law’s quiet laughter told her she’d overheard. “Sure thing. Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”

“Understatement. Thanks, Jol. Talk to you later.”

She pressed the disconnect button, then curled her arms until she held the phone against her chest. “Hi, again,” she said to John.

If her voice sounded a little breathless, that was normal, wasn’t it? Considering the past hour and all that it encompassed? It didn’t have to mean that just looking at John made shivers rush over her skin or her toes curl in her clogs.

His grin only heightened her reaction.

Darby jumped at the sound of a thud, making her realize she’d been staring. She glanced at where Erin had set a glass down hard on the table, finishing the place settings with Lindy’s quiet help. Then the sulky six-year-old pushed the fourth chair to the corner and put a laundry basket full of clean clothes on top of it. Darby realized her daughter was attempting to circumvent any intentions Darby might have of inviting John to dinner. Just what had happened when she wasn’t looking to make her feel such animosity toward John?

He cleared his throat, the sound filling the quiet room. “I, um, didn’t think that it was dinnertime. Maybe I should come back later,” he said, apparently not missing Erin’s actions, either.

“No,” Darby said quickly. A little too quickly. Movement caught her eye, and she stared at the cat that had nearly tripped her that morning outside John’s office. What was Spot doing all the way out here? She smiled at John. “I mean, you know there’s no such thing as a wrong time to drop in. Here—” she cast a warning glance at Erin, then pulled out her own chair “—have a seat. Would you like some coffee or something? And of course you’ll have to stay for dinner.”

John sat down. Behind him, Darby ignored Erin’s openmouthed, aghast reaction even as the girl picked Spot up. “Sorry, but I can’t—stay for dinner, that is. I’m on call tonight and should stick a little closer to town.” He cleared his throat. “Can we talk? You know, for a couple of minutes?”

Darby nodded as she drained the water from the potatoes. “Sure.”

“I was hoping we could maybe talk alone?”

“Oh.” She looked at the twins. She made a point of including them in everything that went on in the house. Especially since Erick died. Her cheeks flamed as she remembered things in which they weren’t welcome to participate. Like her hot-and-bothered tryst with John in the barn three months ago. “Lindy? Erin? Why don’t you two go wash up for dinner?”

They raced for the door, obviously intent on completing the chore as quickly as possible. Darby added, “Then pick up your rooms until I call for you, okay?”

“But, Mom—”

“Erin, please. Can you do as I ask just once without questioning me?”

To her surprise, Erin didn’t argue. Though her pouty expression didn’t disappear, she did do an about-face and leave the room without another word, clutching Spot to her chest.

Darby grasped the back of one of the chairs. “I’m sorry about that. I don’t know what’s the matter with her today.”

“Funny, it’s almost like she can’t stand the sight of me.”

Darby sat down and leaned forward. “Oh, no, that’s not it at all. Erin’s too young to know whom she likes or dislikes. I think maybe she’s feeling a bit…I don’t know, threatened by you, that’s all.”

“I’d never do anything to hurt either of those girls,” he said quietly.

She smiled. “I know you wouldn’t. And they know that, too. That’s not what I meant by ‘threatened.’ Whenever you come over, you distract me from them. Take my attention. And it hasn’t been quite a year yet since…”

She trailed off. If anyone knew when Erick had died, it was the man in front of her.

She looked everywhere but at his face. “Anyway, I’m sure Erin’s just having a bad day. We’re all known to have one every now and again. She’ll probably be back to her old friendly self before we know it.”

At least she hoped so. It was going to be hard enough for her to handle what she was facing without a rebellious child on her hands.

She took a deep breath and smiled at John again, finding that the mere act of doing so made her feel a thousand times better. “So…what’s so all-fired important that you need to talk to me alone?”

He shifted, looking doubly uncomfortable. Darby’s gaze dropped to where he juggled something in his hands. Her eyes widened. She’d been so distracted when he’d come in, she hadn’t noticed he was holding anything, much less the bouquet of wildflowers, a red foil-wrapped package of chocolates…and a suspicious, small jeweler’s box.

A lump the size of a potato clogged her throat. Even as she wondered what he was doing with the items, it registered that the gifts might be the cause of Erin’s behavior. In one glance, Uncle Sparky had transformed into someone interested in taking her daddy’s place.

“John?” Darby said slowly, “What are you—”

She gasped as he leaned forward and wrapped his free hand around hers.

“Darby, I…I, um, know I wasn’t exactly coherent when you told me the news this morning,” he said, his thumb setting fire to her skin as he stroked it. “Truth is, you could have knocked me over with a feather.”

“John, I—”

“No, please. Let me say my piece.”

Darby bit hard on her bottom lip and nodded, trying not to notice how handsomely earnest he looked.

“What I’m trying to say is that if I looked less than happy about the news, it’s only because of the surprise factor. You’re a great woman. Wonderful. And it’s no secret that we have…feelings for each other.”

Oh, God.

“I think…no, I want…”

Darby stared at him, completely spellbound. Her mouth refused to work. Her heart beat so loudly in her ears she barely heard him.

“Aw, hell, Darby, will you marry me?”