His Texas Christmas Bride. Nancy Thompson Robards
“Go ahead and say it.”
She squinted at him as she fidgeted with the scarf that hung around her neck. “Say what?”
“You can say I told you so. Twice if you want.”
She nodded solemnly. “I thought about it, actually.”
She shrugged and looked away.
Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to make a joke out of it. He was only trying to lighten the mood. A group of six preschool-aged kids ran ahead of their mothers, landing and tumbling in the grassy area directly in front of Nick and Becca.
Their mothers stopped at another bench about ten yards away and waved to Becca. She waved back. The three huddled for a moment, talking, then in unison they looked back at Nick and Becca. Then huddled up again.
“Friends of yours?” Nick asked.
“Acquaintances,” she said. “I don’t usually hang with the playgroup set. I guess that will change soon.”
One of the kids, a little girl with white-blond curls, let loose an earsplitting shriek, and two of her friends followed suit before they started chasing each other and shrieking even louder as they ran.
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