Page 62 of Close Knit

My nose scrunches. “Yuck. Like I said when we first met, you’re all about stems and sticks. I, on the other hand, am in the mood for something sweet.”

“Are you ever not?”

“You should try indulging sometime; it might make you less grumpy.” I laugh, but he just gives me that classic stare.Aw, my grumpy éclair is back.“All these pastries look amazing, I can’t choose! Almond croissants are my favorite, but those Danishes are calling my name.”

“Why not get both? Or get everything. Whatever you don’t eat, you can take home.” He leans in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “To indulge yourself.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Are we still talking about pastries, or—”

“Enough,” he says in that tone that sends shivers down my spine. “Pick whatever you want, my treat.”

“You sure know how to spoil a girl.”

We order and find ourselves at a table on the top floor. Plates of pastries litter the table as Cameron sips on his green smoothie. Over the speakers, a soft jazz tune plays on the piano. The first night we met floats into my mind.

“This feels like our first date,” he says, watching me.

How is he always thinking what I’m thinking?

I’d trade the rest of these pastries to end this day like that one. My back against another window, the soft glow of Hyde Park’s city lights casting a romantic spotlight on us.

“So you admit it was a date?”

“I—”

“I’m just teasing.”

He smiles. “I didn’t tell you this earlier, but I like this sweater, especially the stars.”

Is my subconscious out here knitting star-shaped love letters while my brain is just trying to cry over a Netflix show?

“Thanks, yeah, trying something new.” I laugh. “Always gotta keep my patterns fresh.”

“Do you sell this one on your website?”

I nod. “I do! I uploaded it a few days ago.”

“How impressed I am with the fact that you make things with your hands—real, tangible things—is never going to wear off.” The butterflies in my belly return tenfold. I like it when he talks to me about my knitting. It makes me feel like he cares. I’ve been trying to do the same with his football stuff—I boughtSoccer for Dummiesat the bookstore. “Apart from knitting, do you do anything else with your hands?”

I touch you pretty well.The reminder of his firm body against my palms makes me choke on a sliver of almond.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I tease through a loud cough. His eyes darken just a tad.Stop flirting with the man, Daphne!Get a handle on yourself.“Okay, I’ll be serious. I can sew, but you already know that after I fixed your sweater.” I leave out the part where I pretended to need more time locating the correct shade of charcoal thread just so I could huff his sweater for a few more nights. And the fact that I embroidered a very small heart into the hem of it in secret. “I also crochet and embroider. I picked up a lot of textile skills in college. But knitting is repetitive. Like your practice drills, I guess.” His eyebrows raise. “What, a girl can’t study football in her free time?”

“My kind of girl.” He winks, and I’m certain my panties just combusted.

I need to change the topic fast, otherwise I’ll end up vaulting over these pastries and taking a big ol’ chomp out of his lip.

“You know, high school me would’ve laughed at the thought of hanging around a cafe with a big-time jock like you,” I say, grabbing a strawberry Danish to shove into my mouth because, let’s be real, it’s safer than devouring the man sitting in front of me.

“I would’ve been too focused on the balls flying at me to approach a pretty girl like you.”

Pretty girl.My cheeks burn.

Okay, clearly, my methods of distraction are terrible.Come on, Daphne. Talk about something unsexy. Think.Think!

“So, football…is that it for you? Your endgame?”

Cameron slings one of his muscular arms onto the table, his leather jacket pulling taut. “Yes.”

---