Page 31 of Christmas Wishes

He patted my arm. “I’m sure you have no problems getting hard, beefcake.”

“Damn right,” I grumbled as I walked right into his trap. I didn’t appreciate the burning sensation in my chest at the thought of Keaton perusing the apps.

“What’s your preferred app? Find anyone good lately?”

I ignored him.

“I bet you’re an OkCupid guy.”

“Ok-what?”

“Old school dating app.”

I tossed my toolbox in the back of my truck with more force than necessary. “I’m not old school.”

When I faced Keaton, I almost smiled at the playful twinkle in his eye. I wanted to kiss the smirk off his face. He was like a cat with a ball of yarn.

“A Grindr guy then.”

I rolled my eyes and opened the truck door.

“I forgot to tell you last night, Doris wants us to come over tomorrow evening. If that doesn’t work for your schedule, I can tell her I’m not feeling well.”

I paused before climbing into the cab. That was…considerate. “I’ll probably be running late.”

“No problem. Doris said she’d teach me how to crochet. I’m skeptical, but I can’t turn down dinner and town gossip.”

I nearly collapsed from the whiplash of emotions coursing through me. I shouldn’t care that he got along with Doris. I shouldn’t be bothered that Doris was cutting into my evening chats with Keaton. I shouldn’t be upset that he was going home in a few days.

But I was starting to, and fuck, that frustrated the hell out of me.

Chapter17

Keaton

The crochet hookfelt foreign in my hand. I’d never considered how I held a pen, but I couldn’t stop dwelling on the way the crochet hook hung limply between my fingers.

“Is this right?” I asked Doris as she rummaged through a plastic tub full of yarn in various colors.

She leaned over the arm of her chair until she could get a close look. We sat in two armchairs positioned next to each other, with a small table and lamp between us. I hadn’t expected her to follow through on her offer to teach me to crochet, but as soon as I’d arrived this evening, she’d parked me in a chair and showed me swatches of various crochet stitches.

I’d never considered the difference between knitting and crochet beyond vaguely knowing one used a hook and the other needles, but the swatches helped me understand it better.

“Try this.” She repositioned the hook in my right hand, and it felt slightly less awkward. Hopefully once I added the yarn, it would feel more natural. I’d tried watching crochet videos in bed the other night after Doris mentioned teaching me, but it was hard to follow without my own tools to practice.

“Here. This is a yarn cake.” She handed me wound heather gray yarn in a squishy pillar-shaped lump. It would make a warm hat.

Doris was a patient teacher. She’d talked me through making chain stitches. Hers made a uniform row, but each of mine looked different from the last.

I huffed and ripped them out before starting over.

“They don’t need to look good. It’ll even out when you do your first row of stitches.”

“But they’re so wonky.”

She clucked her tongue. “I bet the first time you applied eyeshadow, it didn’t look like how you do it now.”

I smiled sheepishly at her. “Point taken. I’ll try not to be a brat.”

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