Page 50 of Better Luck Next Time

“Ready to enter the lion’s den?” Adalia asked in a near whisper. She said it close to his ear, near enough to press a kiss to his flesh, and he felt a pulse of longing that she’d do just that.

Just friends, just friends, he reminded himself.

“Yes, I think I’m prepared to meet a geriatric old knitter named Enid,” he replied.

“That’s what Dottie wants you to think,” Adalia teased. “She’s lulling you into a false sense of security.”

Which was a fair guess, really. Dottie was known for her surprises.

“I’ll go first,” she said, still in that low voice. “Since you’re our escape plan.” She released his hand, the absence of it hitting him center mass, and stepped into the room. The little gasp she released upon entering the space had him assuming the worst, but when he followed her, he realized it had been a gasp of wonder.

Hanging from the ceiling were dozens of intricately knitted octopuses, each a bright burst of color. They were huge, probably two feet from top to bottom, and although Adalia could walk under them without worry, he feared their trailing tentacles would catch in his hair. The walls were covered in enormous weavings, some of animals, some abstract pieces.

“She likes to keep people guessing, that Dottie,” Adalia said in disbelief, shaking her head slightly.

A woman cleared her throat delicately, drawing their gazes to her. She sat behind a desk in the corner of the space, in front of a piece in progress—a half-formed whale.

“I was wondering if you were the people Dottie had sent,” the woman said. It was the woman from the hall—the lovely one with the bright scarf.

“You’reEnid?” Adalia asked. Clearly he wasn’t the only one who’d expected a geriatric old grandma. “Wait. We saw you leaving the knitting store the other day, didn’t we?”

Finn nodded briefly, placing her, and pure wonder filled Adalia’s eyes.

“Probably,” the woman conceded. “I order most of my supplies online, but I like to support them. Most people call me Blue.” She offered no explanation, not that one was required, he supposed. It was far from the strangest nickname he’d ever heard.

“Your work is amazing,” Adalia said, her eyes darting around the room like she was a kid in a candy shop, which was a pretty good analogy, actually. “I know a few people who work with textiles, and my mom was a home knitter, but I’ve never seen anything so intricate.”

“I’m Finn,” Finn said, approaching Blue’s desk. She stood up and shook his hand, her hand like Adalia’s—callused in places from her work.

Adalia, as if realizing she hadn’t introduced herself either, joined him at the desk and shook Blue’s hand after he did. Her eyes shining, she said, “Sorry, I guess I forgot to introduce myself earlier. I’m Adalia Buchanan. I’m your new biggest fan.”

Blue smiled at her, a wide, disarming smile. Strangers didn’t usually smile at you like that.

“Adalia,” she said. “Dottie thinks the world of you. She tells me you’re an artist too.”

Adalia’s whole face flushed, something Finn hadn’t seen before.

“I used to be,” she said. “Dottie’s much too kind. I’m not here to talk about me, though. Finn’s putting together an art show that will be hosted at my family’s brewery, and I’m helping him organize it. We want you to be part of it.”

She glanced at him, as if daring him to dispute the offer. Like he would. Even if the pieces had been knitted sex organs, he would have accepted Blue with a grin on his face. Anything to see that look in Adalia’s eyes.

“It’s going to benefit an animal shelter,” Adalia said pointedly, as if knowing that might sway her. Finn wasn’t the only one who knew how to push for what he wanted.

Blue smiled again. “I already told Dottie I’d do it. I could use the exposure. My pieces aren’t your usual impulse buys.”

“That’s because people are stupid,” Adalia said bluntly. “You’re a genius.”

“Will you be this nice to me if I learn how to knit?” Finn asked, quirking his brow. Adalia gave him a playful shove, but she didn’t lean away afterward, her body pressing into his.

“Would you like to sit down?” Blue asked, gesturing to the chairs in front of her desk.

They lowered into the chairs and discussed the details of the show—how much space would be available to each of the artists (something they didn’t know yet since Finn had only lined up a few people, but Adalia insisted Blue would have all the space she needed), who would select the pieces (Blue agreed to send photos of the selections she wanted to bring to Adalia, who’d make the final choices), and the possibility for future shows. Finn was still running with the idea that they’d do it twice a year. The pieces that didn’t sell would be put on display at the venue until they sold or the artist requested them back.

Finn glanced at his watch, aware that they were coming up on the time they needed to visit the last studio, a sculptor.

“Does that mean you need to leave?” Blue asked. If anyone else had asked him that, he might have assumed they were annoyed, but she seemed incredibly Zen, like she did yoga in her sleep and dosed her coffee with chia seeds. Realizing he’d internalized Adalia’s ‘Who are you?’ game, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah, we have one more meeting. But we’re excited to have you on board.” He gestured to Adalia, who was still almost bouncing with excitement in her seat. “Obviously.”

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