Christmas at the Cove

Scott glared after her as she stormed away. He hesitated as his gut churned with indecision. Whatever she had to tell him couldn’t be good, but how the hell could he walk away without knowing what brought her back to Templeton? Not knowing would haunt him for the rest of his damn life.

Cursing, he pulled back his shoulders and strode across the lobby to where she sat at a low table, smoothing her hands up and down the length of her denim-clad thighs. He slid into the seat opposite her, his gaze once again flitting to the shiny gold wedding band on her ring finger. God, he was grateful for the table between them. A table that acted as a boulder. A boulder he deemed necessary if his urge to touch another man’s wife was anything to go by.

He met her eyes. “Okay, I’m listening.”

Her gaze bored into his before she dropped her attention to her lap. Her hands were clamped so tightly together, her knuckles showed white. Scott shifted in his seat. No part of him was used to making women uncomfortable or fearful. He wasn’t a monster and he refused to let Carrie make him feel that way.

He reached across the table and took her hand. She flinched and her head snapped up. Her dark brown eyes were wide with caution. “What?”

“Whatever you have to tell me, just say it.”

Time stood still.

Dread seeped into his veins, making him want to lunge forward and wrap his arms around her—whether in a bid to comfort or silence her, he couldn’t be sure.

Tears leaped into her eyes and her hand trembled in his grasp. “I had a baby, Scott. Your baby.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.