Darcy and the Single Dad. Stacy ConnellyЧитать онлайн книгу.
hers, she supposed. But words could be meaningless, empty things. If he hadn’t believed her the first time, why would he the second or third? Darcy refused to argue her innocence with someone who’d predetermined her guilt.
He’d judged her and found her lacking. Well, so what? She had nothing to prove to him. She had nothing to prove to anyone but herself.
Nick Pirelli could believe what he wanted. She didn’t care. Or at least she wouldn’t … as soon as she convinced herself that was true.
“You really think you can handle this?”
With the dog cradled in his arms, Nick never raised his voice above that low murmur she’d heard coming from beneath the porch. A sound that, at that time, had washed over her and soothed away her worry. It hadn’t even mattered that he’d been talking to the dog. That mellow, hypnotic baritone would have had her willingly climbing into his arms.
Now, with the same tone of voice doing little to disguise his doubt, Darcy’s cheeks started to heat. Her instant attraction to the dark-haired vet was as unexpected as it was embarrassing considering his own less-than-flattering opinion of her. But she had bigger things to worry about at the moment. Or rather several little things.…
“I’ll have to handle it, won’t I? Wait … Where are you going?” she asked when Nick awkwardly reached with one hand for the screen door while still carrying the dog wrapped in the blanket.
For a split second, she thought she saw something soften in Nick’s expression, but then his gaze dropped to the dog in his arms. When he looked up again, his dark look was remote. “She needs to be someplace dry and warm and quiet. Someplace inside.”
Inside? She was going to have—Her mind blanked at the sheer number of potential dogs inside her house.
“Where do you want me to put her?”
For a brief moment, Darcy panicked. She wouldn’t take the dog to a shelter, but Nick was a vet. Surely he could find someplace else. But then she looked at the poor dog who seemed to be quietly waiting for her decision, and she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t turn her back now.
“There’s a laundry room right off the kitchen.” Other than housing her washer and dryer and storing products for her boutique until she was ready to open, the laundry room was empty. Darcy led the way through the country-style kitchen and into the other space.
Hurriedly, she tried to scoop up the bras and panties she’d left folded on top of the dryer. Heat flooded her face, though she didn’t know why. Nick Pirelli wasn’t the least bit interested in her or her underwear. After stuffing the pieces of lace and satin back into the dirty clothes hamper, she pushed some boxes out of the way.
“I’ll go—” Her words cut off as she tried scooting around Nick to head back to the patio for the dog’s blanket and bowls. The laundry room that had seemed plenty spacious before was suddenly too crowded for her to take a single step without bumping into the exasperated vet. And wouldn’t you know that the frown on his face didn’t take away one iota from his good looks? If anything, the brooding intensity only added to his appeal, making Darcy suddenly understand women who fell for the dark, dangerous hero.
She’d never been the type. Aaron had been an all-American golden boy—blond hair, blue eyes, with an aspiring politician’s practiced smile. So different from Nick.
Darcy cut off the pointless comparisons. When Nick inadvertently countered her slide to the right with his own move to the left, she finally grabbed him by the shoulders. Ignoring the sudden flutter in her belly when her hands encountered warm male muscles through the damp softness of his flannel shirt, she led them both in a pirouette that would have done a dance teacher proud.
“I’ll be right back with the other blanket and her water bowl. Is there—Should I do anything else?” Darcy asked as she backed out of the room.
Nick knelt down to place the dog on the floor and glanced at her over his broad shoulder. “What? Like boil water?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Only if you feel like having some tea.”
He turned back to the dog before Darcy had a chance to see his expression. Had Nick Pirelli just told a joke? Darcy almost hoped he hadn’t. Grumpy and grouchy, he was hard enough to resist. Throw in a sense of humor, and she might be in some real trouble.
Half an hour later, Nick stepped out of the laundry room and joined Darcy in the kitchen. He shouldn’t have been surprised when she held out a steaming mug.
“Chamomile?” she offered, the challenging spark in her green eyes catching his attention and refusing to let go.
For all the talk he’d heard about Darcy Dawson, how was it no one had mentioned her quick wit or her sense of humor? The dangerous combination already had him lowering his guard and regretting his earlier behavior.
“How’s she doing?” Darcy asked with a glance over his shoulder at the narrow doorway.
“She’ll be fine.” In fact, now was a good time for him to go. Even though the dog was young and likely a firsttime mama, nature would tell her what to do. But he hadn’t missed Darcy’s reaction when he had first told her the dog was having puppies. Her face had gone white, and she’d looked ready to faint. What if Darcy actually did pass out and the dog needed help? Sticking around and making sure the delivery went smoothly was part of his job.
Joining Darcy in the small, intimate kitchen for tea was not part of his job, but even as the warning was drifting through his mind, Nick stepped closer and accepted the cup. His jeans were weighted down by mud, clinging uncomfortably to his skin, and his shirt was soaked through, thanks to the rain. It might have been the end of July, but the sudden storm had dropped the temperature, and he took a minute to warm his hands around the mug. “Thanks.”
“I should be thanking you. I’m sure you had better things to do than make a house call on a night like tonight.”
Nick shrugged. “Comes with the territory.”
“So what’s it like?” Darcy had stripped off her jacket at some point, revealing a pale green knit sweater that hugged the curves of her breasts, but still wore the dark, wide-legged jeans. Her feet were bare, cherry-red toenails peeking out from beneath the mud-splattered hem. He tried not to notice how small and delicate they were, just as he tried not to notice how his own scuffed and scarred size-eleven work boots had tracked mud across the white tile floors.
Darcy leaned back against the butcher block counter, her hands cradling her own mug. Her gaze was open and interested, easily sucking him in until he could barely remember what she’d even asked. “What’s what like?”
“Being a small-town vet?”
Small town. Two simple words that had his hackles standing on end. Yeah, that was what Carol had accused him of being more times than he could count, and the insult had hurt. But Carol had been his wife. He’d felt frustrated and at a loss to keep her happy, and he’d failed her as a husband with his lack of ambition to move to a big city where he could make more money.
Darcy, though, was a stranger, a woman he’d just met. What difference did it make how small town she thought he was?
“I love it,” he answered, a hint of defensiveness undercutting his words. “Ever since I was a kid, it’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.”
“Really?”
Nick’s lips twisted. “You sound surprised.” Like she couldn’t understand how he wouldn’t want something more.
“Not surprised. I guess, I’d say … envious.”
“Envious?”
Darcy shrugged. “That you’ve always known without a doubt what you wanted to do.”
He’d always known what he wanted, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t questioned what was best for his family. After Carol left, he’d gone