Page 28 of First Bride to Fall
Was he that obvious? “No?”
“I’m into another type.” She rolled her eyes. “Adventuresome. Outdoorsy.”
He couldn’t help but grin at her come-on. “Well, that’s good to hear.”
“What’s your type?”
He locked on her gaze, unabashed by his interest. “I think I’m looking at her.”
Color bloomed across her face, sweeping the bridge of her nose and those adorable freckles. For a moment, she appeared tongue-tied. But he could tell she was pleased by his comment. He was glad, because if she was going to dish it out, she was going to have to take it. Flirting went both ways.
She fiddled with her hair, seeming to collect herself. “How about we see that waterfall?” she asked after a pause.
He cracked a grin. “All righty. Let’s get going.”
He walked over to the coatrack near the woodstove where he’d hung their jackets. Both were drier than he’d expected, which was nice. Each also felt toasty inside.
She hopped over to the sofa and picked up her purse. “I want to take my phone so I can document this.”
But, somehow, she held it wrong, and a bunch of items cascaded out onto a sofa cushion: a wallet, a brush, a tube of lip gloss… Her phone landed on some knitted object. Knitting needles sat beside it, protruding out of a multicolored skein of yarn.
Her cheeks turned pink. “I like to keep my projects with me. Just in case.”
He chuckled, but he admired that. She obviously valued her time and didn’t like wasting it. “Some folks carry a book.”
“Or an e-reader,” she said. “Yeah, I sometimes do that, too.”
He cocked his chin. “So. What’s that you’re knitting?”
She had the look of a deer caught in somebody’s headlights, but he had no clue why. “It’s a, uh…hat.”
He strode over to the sofa and picked it up. It was about three quarters of the way done. He got an impish impulse, and he tugged it onto his head. It didn’t quite cover his ears in its partially completed state.
“Nice.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Is it for me?”
The color drained from her face.
“Hey, whoa. I’m sorry.” He took the hat off. “I was just fooling around.”
“No, it’s fine. Really. It’s just not finished.”
He turned it over in his hands. “Looks good though. Like the colors. Very fall-like.”
She bit her lip. “Thanks.”
He studied the hat some more, then met her eyes. “Who’s it for, then? Not you?”
She shook her head.
“A friend?”
Her color deepened. “Somebody special.”
He dropped the hat back on the sofa. She’d said she wasn’t dating, but she might be interested in someone. In that case, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to hear about it, so he decided to change the subject. “What else have you made?”
Her phone dinged, then dinged again.
Then it started going crazy.
