Christmas at the Cove. Rachel Brimble

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      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.”