Page 6 of Close Knit

“Don’t be. But you still haven’t answered my question.” I inch my hand closer to her arm, hesitating as my finger hovers near the bunched-up sleeve of her sweater. “Do you do this kind of thing often?”

“I come here because the music helps me unwind, and my sister works nearby.” She pauses, shock splattering her face. “Oops, I’m not great at this whole ‘no personal info’ thing. Just forget I said ‘sister’ and pretend I said…” She thinks for a second before giving me a toothy smile. “Myhandler. You know, like an agent handler.”

“Myhandlersare also in the vicinity,” I say, playing into her game.

“Guess fate brought us together tonight.” Fate, indeed. “Why don’t you stay a little while?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. And since we’re in a place that calms my nerves, you can tell me what calms you.”

I want to explain that a few months ago, through last year’s season, an encounter like this would have been how I dealt with a loss. When Overton’s hazing didn’t let up and Coach Rossi would shred my every vulnerability to pieces, getting wrapped up in someone like her would have been the exact remedy I needed.

A distraction.

An impossibility this year. But right now…

The smell of vanilla lingers on her skin. Sweet and overpowering. I swallow and let my rough, scarred hands run over her colorful sweater before picking up the yarn on the table.

“You could say I like to play with balls,” I tease, tossing the ball of yarn up a few times.

The sultry look in her eyes snaps, and she breaks out into a fit of giggles. “What about sticks?” She slowly strokes the wood of one of her knitting needles. The absurd motion causes my cock to twitch.

Fucking hell. Who on earth is this bundle of color and smiles? Is she this bubbly and quick-witted when she’s unraveled? What could that even look like?

“There’s one I’m well acquainted with.”

“Anyone else acquainted with your stick?”

“Nope. No yarn attached.”

“You can’t just throw out knitting jokes.” She sighs emphatically.

“Why not? They make you all hot in that sweater?” I shoot her a wink.

Her tongue slides over the seam of her full lower lip. “Yes.”

“Is it really doing it for you?”

“It’s a good start,” she teases.

“Good start? Never had someone turn me down so harshly.”

“What a big ego. All you’ve brought to this table is a good code name and your love of playing with balls. Well, and that wink, which was so fucking hot. I’m sorry,” she says, as if attempting to hold herself back. But she keeps going. “There’s no point in pretending this brooding look of yours doesn’t make the whole pond honk.”

The warm rumble in my chest spills past my throat and into a hearty laugh. “You’re very forward.”

Her eyes widen, and her chest deflates. “Too forward? Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No, not at all. I like it.” She doesn’t feel like a mystery I have to solve. No grand game to play. It’s easy speaking with her, as if I’ll always know where I stand with this lady named Duck. “I like you.”

“To be fully transparent, I’m not normally this forward. I’m trying out something new in my life.”

“What’s that?” I itch to be closer to her.

“I’m doing a Yes Year. The name is self-explanatory, but the essence is to say the things I feel and open myself up to more adventure. Like we’re having right now.”

“I doubt you’d want anything to do with my kind of adventure.”

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