Page 8 of Second Chance With a Cowboy

She turned toward the kitchen. Then her mouth fell open as a tall dark-haired man, who had a frilly pink apron wrapped around his waist, walked out carrying a tray filled with white cups and small matching saucers.

Ruby leaned in to whisper, “Close your mouth, dear. Or you’re bound to catch flies.”

Leni snapped her mouth closed. Then opened it again to sputter, “What are you doing here?”

“It’s Thursday morning. I’m here for knitting club,” Chevy said, matter-of-factly as he set the tray on a rectangle table near her.

“Youknit?”

“Not very well,” Mabel said, pointing to a crumpled mass of yarn sitting next to a leather saddlebag. “He’s a bit hopeless when it comes to the knitting part—he’s been working on the same scarf for the past two years.”

“He’s better at frogging than knitting,” Greta added with a good-natured chuckle.

Leni stared at the bundle of blue yarn that in no way resembled a scarf. “Frogging?”

“It’s called frogging when you unravel or rip out stitches to fix a mistake,” Chevy explained. “You know, likerip it, rip it,” he said, mimicking the sound made by a frog.

Leni just blinked at him. Was this really happening? She’d only seen Chevy once in the last decade, and now he was standing in front of her wearing a pink apron and croaking like a bull frog.

“But we wouldn’t get here at all if he didn’t pick us up every other Thursday and bring us to the church. He’s kind of like ourKnitty Grittymascot,” Mabel said.

“And we all usually have a list of things we need his help with once he drops us off,” Greta said. “Which reminds me, Chevy, honey, I think I accidentally signed out of Netflix again yesterday. Will you take a look at my remote this afternoon and see if you can fix it?”

Chevy ducked his head. “Of course, Miss Greta.”

“He takes pretty good care of us old gals,” Ruby said, then winked at Leni as she gestured toward the other tables. “Andour group numbers have certainly risen since he’s been in attendance.”

Ah.It suddenly made sense why there were more younger women in the group. And Leni assumed most of them were single. And probably looking to catch a hunky bachelor who knitted and carted old ladies around after fixing their Netflix accounts.

“We’ve got plenty of yarn,” Ruby said, gesturing to the assorted colors of skeins on the table. “And we could always use another member, if you want to give it a try.”

Leni shook her head. “Thanks, but my fingers need the rest when they’re not clicking away at my computer keyboard. Or using my newfound barista skills. I just came by to personally deliver the coffee and baked goods and to say that I hope you think of Mountain Brew coffee for all your meetings and events.”

“We’re glad you called us,” Greta told her. “I didn’t even know youcouldbuy coffee by the gallon, but we’re delighted to be able to support Lorna. We’d like to set this up as a regular thing and have coffee and pastries delivered to all our meetings.” She waved a hand toward Ruby. “You can fix it all up with Ruby. Our little club has plenty of dues to use, and she’s our self-designated treasurer.”

“That sounds amazing,” Leni said, thrilled that her idea would bring in a consistent sale for the coffee shop.

“I’ll call you later this week to iron out the details,” Ruby said, then gestured toward the kitchen. “For now, why don’t you and Chevy get us all set up, before that delicious smelling coffee gets cold.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Chevy said, taking one of the cartons of coffee from her then holding the kitchen door open for Leni to walk through.

“Nice apron,” she told him as the door swung shut behind them, trying not to be distracted by that same shock of dark hair that still fell across his forehead.

He chuckled. “Thanks. I’m not sure pink is my best color, but those old gals sure get a kick out of it when I put this on. And it’s fun to make them laugh.”

“You always did like to be the center of attention.” Her tone was a little harsher than she’d intended.

Or was it?

It had been ten years. And they’d been in high school. She should be over it by now. But he’d broken her.

And apparently, she was still pissed.

“The curse of the middle child,” he agreed, flashing her a grin that once would have made her knees buckle—okay, so maybe it still made her knees a little wobbly—seemingly unfazed by her tone as he pointed to the two cut-glass serving plates and three white thermal carafes set up on a tray. “I can pour the coffee into the carafes if you want to arrange the baked goods. I’m no good at that. I usually just dump them on the plate.”

She set the box of pastries and the other gallon carton on the counter next to the trays. “It’s got a spigot on it, so they can just pour it right from the carton.”

“I know. But they kind of like the whole formal coffee set up. Then it seems like they’re having a tea party while they’re knitting. It’s their thing.” He unscrewed the lid and carefully poured coffee into the first carafe. “They’re all about tradition, so I’m kind of surprised they agreed to have coffee delivered. I’m glad it’s going to work out for Lorna to make this a regular thing though.”

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