by Donna Alward
“This is it. My custom yarn business happens here,” she said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I usually take three or four days and do a bunch at a time. Some are custom orders, and others are colors I’ve done before that are good sellers.” She nodded at the drying racks. “Today I’ve done a lot of holiday ones.”
Indeed. One looked like blocks of candy cane colors—red, white, green. “I didn’t think of it being dyed in chunks of color,” he said, wandering over toward the drying rack.
“When you ball it up, you’ll see it’s actually variegated. This one I call Peppermint Stick.”
He grinned. “Cute.”
“I do solid colors, too.” She pointed at a deep, vibrant red. “That one is a big seller. This year I’m adding something new to my online shop, too. Kits. Comes with a pattern, the right amount of yarn, and any notions needed. I’m pretty excited about that.”
“What sort of kit?” He was fascinated by the whole thing.
She picked up the red yarn. “A Christmas stocking, for example. This is a gorgeous color. I’ll add some white with a pattern to knit a snowflake into the front and back. Then some white kind of trim for the top, and the pattern, and voilà. A home-crafted stocking for your mantel or as a keepsake for your kids or grandkids. I’ll even include instructions for sewing in names with the white yarn.”
“That’s really, really neat.” He was impressed. Even though her setup was low tech, clearly it worked fine. “Would it be easier if you had more space? You could do more at a time. How many can you dye in a day?”
“The rack holds five and I have two racks. Plus, the yarn has to sit in the dye for a good while, and then there’s all the rinsing. I also only use eco-friendly dyes. It makes the cost go up a little, but my customers are willing to pay.” She looked up at him, her eyes alight with enthusiasm. “Most people think of the fiber being sourced, but don’t consider the dyes that are used in production.”
She went over to the rack and picked up a circle of yarn. “When it’s dry, like this is, I twist the hank into a skein.” She deftly pulled the circle taut in her hands, started twisting it tightly and folded it in half so that it twisted around itself. Then she tucked one end inside the other and—poof!—it was done, just like that. “I put a tag on it and it’s ready for shipping or knitting.”
“You did that so quickly.” He was still awed at the setup, and it wasn’t just the fumes coming from the dye basins.
“I’ll show you. Here.”
She picked up another circle. “Okay, so put your hands inside the hank here.”
“It’s called a hank?”
“It is.” She held his hands and spread them until the yarn was tight. “Now, make an L with this hand, and use one finger on this hand.”
She maneuvered his fingers and he tried not to think about how she was touching him. But she was in her comfort zone now, wasn’t she?
“Okay. Now take this finger and make a twist.”
He did. The motion and the thickness of the yarn made it awkward, but he twisted again, and again, each time a little more difficult as the twist tightened.
“Now bend your elbow and use it to halve the twist.” She took his arm and helped him. The moment he bent the yarn, it wrapped around itself. He laughed. “Well.”
“Seriously.” She was smiling at him. “Now look. You tuck that end under so it stays together.” She touched his hands again, helped him secure the skein. When it was done she smoothed it out. “Congratulations. You did it.”
He grinned back at her. “It’s really neat that you do this. That you make a living at it.”
“It’s an okay living. I’m a staff of one and my facilities are my great-grandma’s summer kitchen, but it works.” She met his gaze evenly. “I live a pretty simple life. I don’t need much.”
He respected that. Even admired it. It wasn’t his life, and he wasn’t sure he’d be good at that much simplicity. But how would he know? He’d never had the choice.
He held the yarn in his hands, the soft weight of it foreign and pleasant. “Well, I admire you. And I’m kind of jealous. I graduated and went right into business with my dad. A few years later he died, leaving me everything. I was kind of thrust into the role.”
She took the yarn away from him and put it down on a table. “That sounds like a lot.”
He nodded. “I was younger than you, and a sudden billionaire with a dozen companies to oversee. And I’d lost my father, so I didn’t have him for advice or as a mentor.”
He wasn’t sure why he’d told her all that. It wasn’t as if it was a secret; his dad’s death had made the business pages and the news of his stepping into the CEO position had followed. But that last part...it made him feel a little bit vulnerable. He wasn’t sure anyone understood what an adjustment it had been. How scared he still was of failing.
And how his dad had shared his business acumen but hadn’t really taught Cole what it was like to be a man. Numbers and figures had been his way of communicating, but never anything personally meaningful. Anything he’d learned in that regard, he’d learned from his best friends.
“But you did it. And are a tremendous success,” she reminded him quietly.
“I had the support of the directors, which helped.” At least with the numbers and figures. Not so much with the loneliness.
“Until you crashed.”
“Until I crashed.”
She was very close to him now, close enough he could touch her if he wanted. And he wanted. It wasn’t the smart thing but he was kind of tired of always feeling pressure to do the smart thing. Or the most fiscally responsible thing. He wanted a chance to be human. Mess up. Get his hands dirty.
“Cole,” she said softly, and he realized he’d been staring at her lips like a fool.
“You are definitely not what I expected,” he murmured, shifting his gaze from her mouth to her eyes. “Not at all.”
“Nor are you,” she replied, and her words were a little breathless. “But this isn’t a good idea.”
“I know. I’m not sure how much I care, though.”
They’d drifted closer together until they were nearly touching. Cole held his breath as his heart pounded. And then he decided to abandon all caution and just do what he wanted to do—kiss her.
He curled a hand around the nape of her neck and leaned in, touching his lips to hers. They were soft and warm and opened a little in surprise, and she let out a small breath as he fit his mouth over hers more securely. She lifted her hand and let it rest on his arm, holding on and yet still holding back, just a little. She tasted like tea and cinnamon and vanilla, an intoxicating blend that made him think of home—or at least the home he hadn’t had but always imagined.
All too soon he shifted back, not wanting to press his case, or go too fast. There was something fragile about her he couldn’t put his finger on. Oh, she wouldn’t break. She was a strong, stubborn woman. But there was something else, a vulnerability, that he sensed in her sweetness and hesitation.
“Oh, my,” she said softly and bit down on her lower lip. It was so sexy he nearly groaned.
“I should probably get back. Everyone is leaving tomorrow, and Raelynn is cooking a farewell dinner tonight. Lobster’s on the menu.”
“Sounds lovely.” She took a step back, then frowned a bit. “Listen, Cole...this probably isn’t a good idea. I mean, you want to buy my house. Something between us muddies those waters. And I don’t plan to sell, which means we’ll be neighbors. Also awkward. So as much as I’m flattered...”
“No more kissing?” He was profoundly disappointed. He’d enjoyed kissing her very much. She was a thorn in his side, but he was starting to like her a lot. She was, as Tori liked to say, “good people.”
“No more kissing,” she confirmed. She shoved her hands into her sweatshirt pockets, a telling bit of body language h
e was curious about. Withdrawing and also protective...she didn’t have to be afraid of him, though. He would never hurt her.
“I won’t lie. I’m disappointed. But if that’s what you want...”
“It is, yes. But it might be nice if we stayed on friendly terms. It does make living on the island together easier.”
“Because you’re not going to sell.” He nearly smiled, but tried not to.
But she did, a sweet little uptick of the corners of her mouth as her eyes sparkled at him. “Because I’m not going to sell.”
He nodded, then felt compelled to add, “You know that what I am willing to pay would set you up in a house and leave capital left over to run your business properly.”
“But it isn’t home. And right now...this is home.”
She was definitely attached, and he couldn’t honestly say he blamed her. There was something warm and inviting about the old house, and he’d already found himself captivated by the island.
“So I don’t get the real estate deal and I don’t get kisses. It seems I’m getting the rotten end of this deal.”
She nodded, a sober expression on her face. “It appears you are,” she replied, and damned if they weren’t flirting after all.
“I’ll just have to come up with a better offer.” He held out a hand and gestured toward the door. “Shall we? I really do need to get back.”
She led him to the front door. Marvin looked up from his doggy bed and his tail gave a thump, but he didn’t get up and rush over. It was almost as if he was used to seeing Cole there. Like Cole somehow...belonged.
That was ridiculous, wasn’t it? This was just a dog, and a slightly tired old house, and not his life at all.
“Helicopter tomorrow,” he warned Brooklyn. “Fastest way to get my people from here to the airport.”
“Thanks for the warning,” she said, smiling a little. “Have a good dinner with your guests.”
He almost wanted to invite her to join them. Also ridiculous, but he was prolonging their goodbye and didn’t know why.
So he said goodbye and went back to the graveled lane, toward the big house on the bluff.
* * *
Brooklyn kept her eye on the forecast as the week progressed. A midseason hurricane had formed to the southeast and was spinning its way north. The US eastern seaboard looked to be getting a miss, but Nova Scotia was another story, if the models were accurate. Right now it could go a little either way. A direct hit would be nasty. A bit to the right would bring lots of rain. To the left, crazy winds. Either way, it was a category three now, and they’d had a very warm autumn. Maybe it would only be a tropical storm when it hit, but right now forecasters were predicting a category one.
Which didn’t sound that bad. Except she’d seen what even a category one could do. Widespread power outages. With her generator, that wasn’t a huge deal. But the seas would be whipped up and rolling, which meant getting to the mainland would be out of the question. Her little boat wasn’t up to it. She’d have to make a trip over and stock up on anything she might need.
Her needles clacked and she grinned. Wine, chocolate, dog food...all the necessities for being storm-stayed.
She spread the shawl out over her lap and admired the fine, even stitches and the soft yarn. This might be her favorite piece ever, and that was saying something. She imagined wrapping herself up in it this winter, with a cup of hot cocoa and a good book or DVD. She’d have Marvin for company, as always. And yet as she picked up the knitting again, a sense of unease slid through her. Cole would be gone, wouldn’t he? And she’d be alone on the island. Not that she minded; she was used to it. But he wouldn’t be here. With his smiley face and teasing voice and...well, just everything.
She’d gotten kind of used to him, after all. He made things interesting.
Her cell rang and she reached over to grab it, looked at the number, and frowned. It was a number that she didn’t recognize at all. “Hello?”
“Hey, Brooklyn, it’s Cole.”
“You got my phone number.” She wasn’t sure if she was pleased or not.
“I got it from Jeremy, my Realtor, who had it because of...well. When I was trying to buy your house from under you.”
She laughed out loud at his bluntness. “Fair enough. What’s up?”
He was calling her. Calling her. It shouldn’t make her giddy, but there were a whole list of shouldn’ts where Cole was concerned and she had so far ignored every single one.
“I’m having a dinner at my house tonight with my friends. Jeremy and Tori are coming over, and Branson is back in town with Jessica. I hate being a fifth wheel, so I wondered if you’d like to join us.”
Oh, my. She wasn’t sure if he meant for this to be as his date or if she was a chair filler. And she had no idea how to ask, either. “Dinner? With your friends? But I don’t know them. Won’t it be awkward?”
“Naw. It’s just casual. They haven’t been over to the island since I moved in, and I thought it would be nice to do it now since it looks like we’re in for some weather later in the week.”
She hesitated.
“Of course, if you don’t want to, that’s fine. I know it’s last-minute.”
Which was a paltry excuse because living somewhere with a population of two pretty much guaranteed an open social calendar.
“I could probably come. I guess.”
“Great! Come any time after six. We’ll have pre-dinner drinks. Everyone’s spending the night, so we can all indulge a little.”
Oh, my. What had she agreed to? A cozy little dinner party with a bunch of billionaires, and her with a solid low five-figure income, no degree, no prestige...what would they have to talk about? When it was just her and Cole, she tended to forget he was so rich and accomplished. She was suddenly having second thoughts.
“Don’t even think about backing out. I can hear your brain turning.”
“Who said I was having second thoughts?” If she was good at anything, it was bluffing. Bluffing being strong, bluffing being independent, bluffing being...whole. But that was another story and one she was not planning to share with Cole.
He just laughed lightly. “Raelynn is cooking up a feast. Come hungry.”
“Should I bring anything?”
“Just yourself. See you at six.”
He was gone before she could say another word. It was fine. She’d met Tori before, and she was lovely. And it was just dinner. She could excuse herself if it was too much and walk home. Besides, she was curious to see what changes Cole had made. Ernest had had a decorator do the house, and she’d always thought the furniture a little heavy and dark. Had Cole kept the same vibe or done something very different? She knew he’d done some renos, but the work crews hadn’t been there a very long time.
She put the knitting away and decided to take a bath and think about what to wear. She was having dinner with not one but three billionaires, wasn’t she? And Jeremy’s wife and Branson’s girlfriend. There was no question that she was Cole’s date. Even though it was a casual “round out the table” date, they were still paired up.
Second thoughts bubbled up again.
The bath and lavender salts helped to relax her, and she dressed in black leggings and her favorite long sweater that she’d knit herself, with drop sleeves and a V-neck. It was knit out of cashmere in a pinky-red rhubarb shade, and she slid on her favorite boots, brown leather ones that were well loved and classic, stopping at just below her knee. There was a bit of a debate in her head about wearing her hair up or down, but she decided to put it up in a top knot because she liked how it emphasized the V-neckline.
And because her clothing choices were still somewhat casual, she took extra time with makeup, going a little heavier than usual with her eyes and then a neutral lip. When she was done she pressed a hand to her stomach to calm her nerves. Dinner. It was dinner, for Pete’s
sake. Not an actual date. Not really. They weren’t going to be alone or anything.
There was an odd little beep outside her house and she peered out the window. One of the golf carts was parked out front, and the man behind the wheel had to be Raelynn’s husband, who worked as the caretaker. She laughed out loud. Even on this tiny island, Cole had somehow managed to send a driver to get her.
She went outside and approached, smiling at the man sitting patiently. “Hi, I’m Brooklyn.”
“Dan,” he replied, grinning back.
“Dan, I just need to let my dog out before I go. Do you mind waiting?”
“Of course not. I’ve heard about your dog. Cole talks about him.”
“He does?”
He nodded. “My dad says that Cole was never allowed to have a dog at the house, but he always liked them. The Abbott house wasn’t one for...well, I don’t know. It was a bit sterile.”
She filed that tidbit away, but what he’d said prompted another question. “Your father knows Cole?”
“He was Cole’s father’s chauffeur for years. I spent most of my childhood near the Abbotts.”
Interesting. Brooklyn wondered why Cole had then hired Dan. Keeping it all in the family?
There was no time to ask, nor did she want to pry. Instead she went to let Marvin out, and once he’d had a pee and said hello to Dan, she put him back inside and slid into the cart. “Shall we?” she asked.
The sun was fading and there was a distinct chill in the air, though it wasn’t what Brooklyn would call cold. It took no time at all and they were at the house. Lights glowed from the windows, and Dan dropped her by the front door. “Let me know when you want to go home, Ms. Graves.”
“Please, call me Brooklyn. It’s a small island and we should all be friends.”
He smiled at that, a big genuine smile. “All right. Anyway, just let me know. There’s no need for you to walk home in the dark.”