Page 15 of Forget Me Knot

The difference between the bubbly, welcoming—and yes, feisty—woman I met last week and the flustered, teary-eyed one in front of me now is jarring. Something primal inside of me wants to take care of whatever is bothering her.

Clearing my throat like it's my job to come to her rescue, I step a little closer and bend so that we might meet eye to eye, all the while internally questioning why I’m not running out of this place instead of throwing my nose into this woman’s business. “Are you okay?”

I am a hero… clearly calling dibs.

“I’m fine,” she snips.

So, definitely not fine.

“You seem… agitated, Polly.”

Pasting on a smirk, I do my best to disarm her, taking a look around again and seeing my initial judgement of the place is the same. Knotty & Nicereally does look like the inside of those Polly Pockets Winnie used to play with as a little girl. But somehow it works. The splashes of color and pastels uniquely suit the woman glaring at me now.

And it quickly dawns that using the wordagitatedwas not my best work. Sometimes it’s hard to find the proper vocabulary in the cloud of disarray in my mind. Especially under duress.

Like at this moment. When a woman is obviously upset with me, at me, or in proximity to me. Dinah’s striking green eyes darken with a storm of what I now would define as clear agitation before she crosses her arms defensively and juts out her hip. It’s a move I saw last time I was here and one that would probably be more intimidating if she weren’t in overalls andConverse again and inadvertently pouting out her lip. The closer I look, the more adorable I find her.

In fact, her posturing has the opposite effect, sending my eyes on a little road trip down her neck, along her arms, and across her curves, then back up again before landing on those raging green eyes. Whoops. Sorry, not sorry. She’s stunning, and her fury has done nothing to dim that fact.

“Polly?” Her eyebrow raises and she clears her throat. So, clearly not a fan of nicknames. “Did you need something?”

“You… had… You were crying.”

“No.” She shakes her head but otherwise doesn’t move.

“Yes.” I may be crazy, but I’m not blind. I don’t know this woman, but I know if I leave her here to cry about something all alone and my mama finds out, I’d never be able to look either woman in the face again. Something in my demeanor and line of questioning is obviously not getting through to her, though. She’s growing taller with defiance the longer we face off.

“No. I wasn’t. I’m fine.” There’s that word again. “Everything’s fine.”

I step forward, feet moving of their own accord. My need to be closer to a woman clearly uninterested in a conversation with me cannot be explained. Only, I feel as though I’m being magnetically pulled towards her. My voice softens. “I wanted to check on you. I… I heard your music change.”

She steps back, but her voice grows louder. “Oh, did you? Was it too loud again, Grandpa? Goodness, I thought after I talked to your brother things might get better.” Her hand perches on her hip, and I’m honestly proud of how I manage to keep my eyes on hers and not on a retrace of their earlier venture, but then my mind skids on her last words.

“My brother?”

“Yes.” She adjusts her stance and brings her hands to her front. “We talked, and I assumed after he asked me on a date,he’d speak to you about your attitude or that you might at least try to be friendly with me.” She throws her hands up and waves them around my face. “But clearly not.

A date. My throat plummets into my stomach.

Owen asked Dinah out? He must have met her the other night. I should be happy for him. He’s been hung up on the same girl for way too long, but something in me bristles instead. Something I shouldn’t even consider for myself. Not now.

“Oh.”

Dinah shakes out her hair, pulling it into some sort of knot on the top of her head. The light hits the soft red so perfectly, it almost looks pink. I inadvertently clench my fists. Something I find myself doing every time I’m near her.

“So, you heard my music change and thought you should come over… again… to correct me?”

“No. I—”

“Listen, pal—because youstillhave yet to tell me your name—I am fine. Has it been a rough day? Yes, and it’s getting a little more sour by the second. I’m not crying,” she says as tears definitely line the rims of her eyes again. She sniffs and wipes her cheek with her hand.

Definitely crying.

“I just… I have flour in my eye. I’ll keep my music down, and I will only play happy tunes from now on if that’s what it takes to stop these little interludes of ours.

“Now, if that’s all you came by to say, if you don’t mind, I will lead you out.”

“I, uh…”Words, Jack. Words.“Your rent is due.”

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