Page 3 of Stranded With the Biker

Maybe my people reader is off?I chewed on my bottom lip, and my eyes widened when our gazes connected. For a flash moment, like whenever we looked at one another over the last two days, I saw something that looked like heat and interest. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, leaving me more than confused.

Today, though, instead of looking away, I mouthedhiwith a dorky little wave. Something flashed in his eyes before he simply turned, ignoring me and the customer at his table.

Oh well, I tried,I thought to myself before taking a seat. The rest of the day flew by, and I couldn’t believe I sold out of all my beanies, including the ones in the questionable color choices I’d made. Not only that, but all my little amigurumis, crocheted figurines, in veggie and fruit shapes holding positive notes, along with a couple of bigger zoo animals and pink strawberry cows had been sold. I took out the little notebook I kept in the pocket of my cream-colored chunky knit cardigan and opened it to the open page to note down what I should pack up for the next day when I got home.

“Did you make that?” a deep voice asked. A deep voice that felt like a warm touch. I turned around to face a wide chest. My gaze roamed upward and connected with the deepest, most soulful eyes I had ever seen in my life.

Eyes I had a feeling had seen a lot of things. Good and bad.Why do I want to know all about them?I wondered quietly.

“Excuse me?” I asked, shaking my head, trying to focus on the man in front of me and snap out of the crazy thoughts that were floating in my head.

“Did you make that sweater?” Hugo asked again, pointing. I glanced down at it and felt my face heat as I glanced back up.

“Yes,” I answered. “But it’s not a sweater, it’s a cardigan,” I corrected and could have sworn his lips twitched.

“Cardigan. Like the song,” he noted.

“Song?”

“Taylor Swift.” My brows rose, and I pressed my lips together to stop myself from giggling.

“You listen to Taylor Swift?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged but didn’t look anywhere but me. “So… you made that.” He tugged at my cardi, and I nodded.

“I did.” I found myself whispering even though it wasn’t like there were a whole lot of people around. It was Sunday, and the market would be closed for a couple of days and reopen Wednesday.

“You don’t keep them in stock? I mean, you don’t sell them?” The smile and hope I had growing inside me started to wither away slowly. To be fair, I doubted he was asking for himself, which could only mean…

“Are you looking for one for your girlfriend?” I blurted but then made a face. “Or wife?” He shook his head, and I chewed on my bottom lip. “Is that because they’re not cardigan people?”

“It’s because I don’t have one. Of either,” he clarified, and just like that, a sliver of hope started to bubble back to life. Why, I had no idea. I was twenty-seven and anti-relationships. Not that he was asking for one.Or that he can even stand me.I winced at the thought.

“I was thinking about buying one for my sister. For Christmas.”

“You have a sister?” I repeated. His lips twitched, like he thought I was cute, or maybe that was hopeful thinking on my end?

“Yeah.” He pointed toward his booth. “That’s her stand. She has a bee farm about thirty minutes east from here,” he shared, and for some reason, what he was saying left me stunned. Stunned and hopeful when I really should know better.

“Your sister has a bee farm.” Jesus! Why was I repeating everything like a dang parrot?

“Yeah.” He shoved his hands in his front pockets, making my eyes dip to his biceps.Wow!The definition in the muscle made my hands itch to reach and touch him to see what they felt like. “She broke her arm in two spots and needed help for the holidays,” he started to explain. “She and her best friend run it, and they make all the stuff together.”

“Oh, wow, that’s really cool.” My lips quirked up softly.

“They had just decided to commit to two different markets this year. One here and the one out in Beech Grove. Merry something.”

“Merry Snowflakes Market,” I chimed in softly.

“Right. Well, my sister broke her arm and couldn’t get the fee refunded, so they needed someone to help pitch in.”

“Yeah, organizers are big on being non-refundable,” I shared, and his eyes softened. “So… you stepped in? That’s why you’re here?” I asked, trying not to be too nosy, but there was something about him that made me want to know as much as I could.

“That’s why I’m here,” he confirmed.

“That’s makes more sense,” I mumbled under my breath. “And it’s really sweet.” The sentiment tumbled past my lips. When I realized I’d complimented him, heat hit my face. “I just—“ The words died on my tongue. I blushed when he leaned in, dipping his ridiculously handsome face closer to mine.

“Don’t go tellin’ anyone I’m sweet, baby. It might ruin my rep.”

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