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A wince crinkled Darby’s forehead.
“We all hoped she’d settle down near Armadillo Lake—the actual lake and not just in town. She always loved that old plantation house down there,” another sister-in-law explained. “Course that was before the mess with Trey.”
Although she’d been sitting quietly, toying with her shirt hem, Darby’s head shot up. She made a slashing motion across her throat to the pretty brunette who was ignoring her.
“He’s single again, you know. That girl from up near Gadsden and him got divorced last fall,” another added. “He moved back earlier this year and opened a plumbing repair shop. Business has been real good, I hear. He bought the old Jenson farm and is considered quite the catch.”
“What mess?” Blake asked, wondering why a knot had formed in his stomach at the news Trey Nix was single and “quite the catch”. Wondering why Darby’s family waved Trey in front of Darby like a carrot. Was she supposed to be lured home?
She had a home. In Knoxville. With him.
“When Trey broke her heart, of course. High school quarterbacks are notorious for stealing girls’ hearts around these parts.” The brunette looked at her husband, who grinned back at her. Obviously Darby’s youngest brother had been a quarterback who’d stolen her heart.
“Hello? I’m sitting right here,” Darby reminded them, clanging her silverware against her plate. “Blake does not want to hear about Trey.”
Actually, he did. But he took pity on the desperation in her eyes, knowing that before the weekend was over he’d learn what had transpired between his lovely partner and her high school quarterback.
But for now he’d play his role.
“Darby’s right. I don’t want to hear about men from her past, because they don’t matter.” He took her hand in his, laced their fingers for all to see. “She’s mine now, and I plan to keep her.”
Darby’s mother beamed. A collective sigh came from the sisters-in-law. Her brothers exchanged looks. Her father shrugged.
Blake smothered a grin. He liked Darby’s family
. All of them. Why hadn’t she introduced them in the past?
Next to him, she audibly caught her breath, and her eyes flashed with question. “Are you sure you don’t want more dessert?”
He winked, letting her know he had this under control. She could thank him later for rescuing her from conversations about old heartbreaks.
Turning to Darby’s mother, he flashed his most brilliant smile. “What I’d really like is to see Darby’s baby photos. Got any you’d just love to show me?”
Darby tried to ignore the fact that Blake’s arm was around her, his hand pressing possessively into her lower back. She tried to ignore the fact that her sisters-in-law kept smiling at each other, that her brothers kept sizing Blake up, not quite sure what to make of him, that her parents were falling over themselves in hopes that he would save their baby girl from the follies of her youth by choosing medicine over marriage and children.
She was failing miserably, of course, and couldn’t ignore any of those things, much less all of them.
No wonder. She and Blake sat squished next to each other on the same sofa she’d sat on when she’d still worn diapers. Her mother was on the opposite side of Blake, flipping through a family photo album and ecstatically pointing out various embarrassing pictures from Darby’s youth.
She shook her head as Blake enthused over shot after shot—especially her “Dilly” photos.
Had he really asked to see her baby pictures? Had her family really not had an aha! moment and seen that this couldn’t possibly be real? What man asked to see a woman’s baby photos?
“The boys just hauled her with them wherever they went. She drove the tractor, helped haul hay—whatever they were doing, she was right in the middle. It’s no wonder she was such a tomboy.”
Dimples dug into Blake’s cheeks, his eyes dancing with interest when he glanced toward Darby. “You were a tomboy?”
She shrugged. “For a while.”
“Then she discovered books, and would hide in her room reading instead of doing her chores,” Jim said.
“I think she read every book in the Armadillo Lake library. Never did see someone who liked to read so much.” Darby’s mother shook her head in confusion. “I kept telling her that reading books didn’t put food on the table.”
“Guess all that book-reading paid off in the long run. Look at her now—a doctor,” Rosy said, smiling at Darby. “We’re all so proud of her accomplishments, aren’t we?”
“Sure thing,” Jim grunted, at his wife’s elbow jabbing his ribs.
Darby sent Rosy a grateful smile. Not that she bought her claim. Her parents would have been proud if she’d married a good ole boy straight out of school, had a half-dozen babies and farmed for a living. Becoming a doctor and living six hours away didn’t even register on their “proud” radar.
