“It’s good to have a hobby.”
“I ride my bike.”
“That includes sitting still and just being.”
“God’s truth, Mrs. Taft, I have no idea what that means.”
“And isn’t that the problem with you young’uns,” she said like he was eight. “No time to just sit and contemplate. Always running about with electronic devices in your hand.”
She had a point there, Fin thought as she tugged him into the other space where books lined shelves. He fell into the seat she pointed to.
“Now, Fin, these are needles.” Mrs. Taft handed him two. Shuddering, he wondered how long this torture would last.
Chapter28
“Through the hole, round the pole, out of the hole and off, Maggs,” Jack said.
“What?”
“That’s how I used to remember the knit stitch.”
“Right, okay.” Maggs stabbed the needle in the stitch, looped the wool round, then yanked it out.
“Good girl, but maybe a little less aggressive on the out of the hole part, as all your stitches will come off the needle,” Jack said from beside her. He was knitting a blanket for Grace’s dolls.
One of the most handsome and smooth men she’d ever met, the man knitted. He always had and didn’t care who knew. It had always amazed her, but she also felt kinda proud of him that he owned it.
“Right, less aggressive.” Maggs focused and slowly worked her way along the row. She’d never knitted and never wanted to, but after the day she’d just had, why the hell not give it a try?
“Quite some day you’ve had for yourself, red.”
“It has been the longest of my life.” She sighed. “But I feel calmer for talking about what happened in London, like I don’t have to pretend so much anymore.”
Jack’s needles clacked as he knitted at the speed of light while she stumbled through her first row.
“Why did you think you couldn’t tell anyone, Maggie?”
“I don’t know, really. In the beginning I was a bit out of it, then I thought there was nothing anyone could do, so why worry you all. Besides, I would recover and be completely normal again.”
“You were never normal to begin with, so stop deluding yourself,” Rory said. She was leaning on her man’s shoulder above him, watching as he knitted.
“There is that,” Jack said, raising his face for a kiss.
Love, Maggs thought, was everywhere in this town. Her eyes shot to Fin again; he was trying to politely get away from Miss Sarah and Mrs. Taft—and failing.
“My hands are too big,” he protested as he tried to handle the knitting needles.
“You have lovely hands, dear.” Miss Sarah patted one. “You just need to slow down.”
Maggs giggled. He gave her a mock scowl, but she saw the laughter in his gaze.
How was it possible he looked hot sitting there, uncomfortable, with an elderly woman on each side of him teaching him to knit? Really hot, she had to concede, and now she knew what was under those clothes, Maggs had to admit it wasn’t going to be easy to ignore what Fin made her feel anymore.
“I don’t think knitting is for me,” Fin said to Mrs. Taft. “I mean, you really have to be in touch with your feminine side, and I’ve never achieved that like some men I know.”
Maggs switched her gaze to Jack, who she knew this dig was aimed at.
“All man here, bud; you just ask the woman hanging off me.”
