Christmas in Texas. Rebecca Winters
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know,” Capri said, “but this is driving me crazy. I just need to spend these last few days thinking about the beautiful children I’m about to have.”
Seagal came walking down the hall, holding his cell phone to his ear. When he saw Capri alone in the bedroom, he clicked his phone off, shoving it into his jeans. “Where’s Kelly?”
“In the powder room, I think.” She didn’t worry about the fib; Seagal’s face was creased with lines of worry. “You seriously need to relax, Seagal. I took care of myself before you showed up—”
“But I’m here now and will be here until the end.” He sank into the chair, looking a bit dazed. “You scared me. I thought you were having more pains.”
“That’s the problem. You shouldn’t be scared. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” She glared at him. “Where were you just now when I called you?”
Seagal looked sheepish. “Mrs. Penny called me over for a chat. And some cookies.”
Capri’s lips pursed. “I see. She wanted information about the arrest at Christmastown the other night, or wanted to know why you’re suddenly back in the house with me?”
His eyes met hers with wry acknowledgment. “Both. Of course.”
“You sold out your conscience for some cookies.”
“I sold it for gingerbread men. It was completely worth it, too. They had frosting sweaters with mint buttons baked on them. I’m a weak man when it comes to Mrs. Penny’s baking, Capri.”
He was the least weak man she’d ever known. In fact, Seagal was the strongest person she’d ever met in her life, other than her mother and father. He sat there in a black long-sleeved shirt, his hair not exactly appearing combed—he’d probably sprinted from next door, a day of stubble on his face.
Darn him. She’d never gotten over him.
“Seagal,” Capri said, “I don’t want you staying here.”
He shook his head. “Don’t be mad because I didn’t bring you any cookies. Mrs. Penny said she’s bringing over a box later. That’s why she baked them.”
She shook her head, not allowing him to sidetrack her with cookie romance.
“I have to stay here with you,” Seagal said. “Those are my children. You’re my wife. There’s no place on this earth I belong more than right here.”
Her heart tugged painfully. “Seagal, if you hadn’t found out I was pregnant, you wouldn’t be here. You weren’t coming back to Bridesmaids Creek. We’d be at the courthouse in two weeks, signing divorce papers.”
He shrugged. “I came back to Bridesmaids Creek because I heard you were expecting. I didn’t know it was twins, but all the same, I knew you were having a baby. And Beau assured me it was mine.”
“What?” Capri yelped, stung by her brother’s betrayal.
Seagal ignored her. “I didn’t have to come back. To be honest, I asked to be on this case. I didn’t know you were going to be assigned round-the-clock protection—”
“Which is dumb,” Capri said. “I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“But I did want to be there when the bust went down,” Seagal said, ignoring her. “I just wasn’t expecting you to be so far along. Once I saw you, I knew I was the bodyguard my wife required.”
“Seagal, I don’t need you or anyone. I can take care of myself and these children.”
“I know you can,” Seagal said, “but you married me for better or worse. You’re stuck with me, gorgeous. At least for another few days.”
He was so unmovable. Determined. “Stuck is right,” she said with a sigh.
Seagal stood. “I wasn’t happy you didn’t tell me, but then that’s when I realized you were still in love with me, and that you’d never gotten over me.”
Capri’s jaw dropped at Seagal’s outrageously high opinion of himself. “How does that even work?”
“Because—” Seagal said, sliding up into bed with her, his boots dangling over the edge of the lacy white comforter “—you were never that good at fibbing, Capri. And you weren’t going to tell me, because you knew I’d be here in a heartbeat.” He turned to look at her, too close for her comfort. “I knew if I came home, you’d have to look me in the eye and tell me you honestly didn’t love me anymore. And you can’t do that.”
She didn’t say anything. Yet she couldn’t look away from his deep blue eyes, either.
“Can you say you don’t love me anymore, Capri?” Seagal asked, and when she couldn’t bring herself to say she didn’t, he leaned over and brushed his lips against hers.
Chapter Four
Seagal looked at his annoyed wife, feeling his blood pressure subside. He’d kissed her ever so slightly to comfort her, but now she was even more worked up and looking suspicious of his intentions. Capri really had worried him, and that’s when he knew she had a point: he worried about her constantly now.
He’d kissed her to comfort himself.
Feeling her lips against his was something he needed. He did still love her, no matter what doubts she had squirreling around in that cute head of hers.
“Sorry,” he said. “Won’t happen again.”
“It better not,” she shot back. “And now, if you don’t mind, impertinent sir, could you please remove your boots and self from my bed?”
Seagal got up. “It’s this white lacy comforter thing. It’s like a man defender. I’m afraid I’m going to get it dirty.”
She looked at him a long time. “It’s a duvet. It washes. Bleach does wonders.”
“Is that an invitation?” he asked, pushing his luck.
“No,” Capri said. “I’m telling you that two babies will soon be in this bed with me.”
“Oh.” Clearly not an invitation, so perhaps it was best that he cut out while she wasn’t completely riled with him. “Hey, I’ve got some runs to make. I’m going to leave Jack here for security, and Kelly here to be bedside companion—”
“Neither of which I need, thanks. What I need is peace and quiet,” his darling and opinionated wife reminded him.
Seagal grinned. “And Mrs. Penny will be by soon with the best gingerbread men you’ve ever tasted.”
“All your spies are in place, then.”
“You could say that. Just lie there like a princess, and everyone will be happy.”
He just needed to go root Kelly and Jack out of whatever corner they’d holed up in. Capri wasn’t fooling him—she’d sent the two lovebirds off to do a little nesting. She’d probably given Kelly detailed instructions on how to seduce a man. Capri had certainly seduced the heck out of him.
And being seduced by Capri had convinced him that bachelorhood was overrated by far.
Capri raised a brow, purposefully looked at the door.
“You know,” Seagal said, glancing around the bedroom they’d once shared, “I notice you don’t have your usual Christmaspalooza all over the house.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve been busy.”
He nodded. “I checked out the nursery. There’s nothing in it but a white dresser.”
“I was busy planning Christmastown. I thought I had time. I’ve never been on bed rest in my life.”
He looked at the fireplace mantel in the room, which had Christmas