Real Men Knit

by Kwana Jackson

  Kerry was surprised. She thought she was making it easier for him; frankly, she had expected him to just go along with what she was saying. She took a sip of her coffee and put it down on the worktable, careful to grab one of the knitted coasters that Mama Joy insisted everyone use. “What do you mean?” she asked. “You’re starting to lose me, Jesse. Is getting the shop open as quickly as possible your priority or not?”

  He was quiet for a moment as he looked at her, his stare doing nothing to ease her feelings. She swallowed, then remembered she hadn’t taken another drink. Quicker was better. Opening and getting running quicker would mean her moving on and getting out of his hair and their lives just that much faster. There was no reason for him to be against this plan.

  “It is,” he finally said, “but if I’m going to do this, then I want to do this right. A surface clean and just going with the status quo won’t cut it. Not now. In order to make a splash and turn this into a business that, at the least, makes enough for us to stay in this location, we’ve got to amp things up.”

  Kerry looked around the shop again. Crap, he was right. And it wasn’t like she wasn’t just thinking the same thing. Besides, continuing on with things just as they were in the shop and without Mama Joy to pull in the customers, they would probably be out of business in six months, if not three. “Okay, I’m listening. So tell me, how are we going to do both?” She was nervous. Though Jesse was right, he couldn’t go too far and sink them further. She could easily imagine an all-out war between the four brothers if the shop failed.

  Jesse moved from where he was behind the counter and walked toward her. He reached out his hand, coming at her faster than she expected, and her instinct was to dip back and out of the way, but for some reason she didn’t. Not even a flinch as he softly pressed his thumb across the middle of her brows and gave her a smile. “Stop with the hard looks and the frowning so early in the morning, Kerry. You don’t want these frown lines to turn permanent, now, do you? Because if you end up getting somebody’s bootleg Botox and it goes wrong, I can’t promise not to laugh right in your face.”

  Kerry slapped his hand away and stepped back. Could the man stay serious and focused for at least a ten-minute stretch without making her the brunt of his jokes? And why didn’t she duck away from his stupid lethal touch?

  They looked at each other for a few tense beats, expressions suddenly more serious than with their normal back-and-forth banter. The tension in the air was now swirling around like fine dust. Finally, Kerry found her voice, if not her full senses. “As if this melanin would need Botox. Wait! You think I need Botox?”

  With her comment Jesse’s eyes softened; of course he was just messing with her. She watched as the sparkly hazel went all mossy and soft. She liked it when his eyes went soft like that. She coughed again. Hold up, she should not be thinking about his eyes. Soft, hard, in any way. It was bad for business and bad for her heart. She knew she could take a lot off Jesse. The teasing, ribbing, even the pain of long-legged women with heavily adorned toes exiting his bedroom in the early-morning hours. Those things were almost welcome because they kept her at the distance of right where she needed to be. But when his eyes went soft and his smile turned true—she sucked in a breath. That she couldn’t take. That was her kryptonite.

  A soft Jesse stripped of his usual mask was truly a dangerous thing.

  His gaze went roaming down to her lips, her neck, her collarbone and back up again to her eyes. Kerry swallowed as he licked his plump, peachy lips and grinned. She felt like an idiot, but dammit if she wasn’t waiting with bated breath for the next words that were about to come out of his mouth.

  “What is this about Botox? Kerry, you better not do anything to that pretty face of yours. Besides, if they jack it up, you know we’re all gonna laugh at you, and then we’re going to have to kick the doctor’s ass on top of it,” Lucas said as he bounded around the corner from the back staircase.

  Kerry let out the ridiculous breath that she was holding as she turned toward Lucas, who had changed into black sweatpants and a sleeveless black cotton tee that showed off his taut, lean but well-honed muscles. He had his baseball cap turned backward, signaling he was ready to get down to work. But then she noticed the duffel bag he’d dropped on the floor by his feet.

  “I swear, if you two jerks aren’t related by blood, you should be,” she said. “I wasn’t talking about Botox.” She looked back at Jesse, then gave him a frown. “This is just your brother once again trying to be a smart-ass.” She turned back toward Lucas. “So are you sticking around to help out today, or is that getup for work or working out?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said with a tilt of his head and an apologetic smile. “We’ve got exercises to go through at the station. I could get the time off but I think I should save the days for when I’m really needed to work here.” He looked at Jesse. “I have a feeling it will be often.”

  Jesse shook his head. “Chill with that, Superman. Go out and do your save the world thing. I’ve got this covered.”

  Lucas gave Jesse a “Sure you do” look, then turned back to Kerry. “But make a list of the things you need me to do to help. I’ll come over on my day off.” His expression got a little more serious this time as he looked back at his brother. “You try to keep a level head. I know you want to do a lot around here and make everything grand for Mama Joy, but remember we’re trying to get out of the red. Not further into it. Don’t go overboard.”

  “When do I ever go overboard?” Jesse replied.

  For that, all he got was a pointed look. “Like I said, a level head. If you need a reminder of what that means, just text me.”

  Jesse frowned. “Your Damian is showing. Now go. I don’t need a reminder or a minder. But thanks.”

  Lucas sighed before turning to Kerry. “Sorry to run out and leave you with this one, Kerry, but I promise when I’m back to work here, you’ll have all my hands and then some.”

  Kerry grinned. “You make it sound like a promising promise. Now, don’t worry about things here, you just get on with your training and lifesaving. We’ve got this.”

  “Bye, bro,” Jesse growled out. “We’ve got this.”

  7

  A PROMISING PROMISE? Kerry’s words to Lucas were still echoing through Jesse’s mind as he made the walk south and crosstown to meet his friends that night at Bird’s, a local restaurant and bar.

  Had she been actually flirting? Nah, she couldn’t have been. Kerry wasn’t the flirting type. She had to have been just making conversation. It was banter, of course. Kerry Girl type of banter, and he was just reading it wrong.

  But what was up with that delivery dude, Tracy? The way he looked at her you’d think he was angling for a forty-percent tip and an excellent service survey write-up. It was UPS, not freaking Uber Eats, man.

  Jesse told himself to chill. This was just the normal running-a-business stuff that went along with the day-to-day of the shop. And Kerry clearly was not being flirty—maybe. So him thinking she was being flirty was just due to the fact that he’d never really been in a one-on-one situation with her for such a long length of time. Never gotten to observe her in this way. Not that this type of observation was in any way a hardship. More like a revelation, really. And not a bad one at all. It was just, well, surprising.

  Little Miss Surprising Flirt or not, Kerry’s knowledge of the shop and Mama Joy’s running of it was undeniable. She was everything he needed and perfectly highlighted all he didn’t know. Wools versus cottons versus blends and the proper storing of them—and they still had to get into the nuts and bolts of cataloging, distribution and sourcing. Thank God for her. If she hadn’t stepped up and he had been stupid enough to just let her walk out the door, they would be sunk. The woman was practically a yarn encyclopedia and, as such, invaluable to him.

  Invaluable. The thought exhilarated, scared and embarrassed him all at the same time. It scared him b
ecause he didn’t want Kerry to be invaluable to him. She had her own life and she didn’t need the obligation of being saddled to the shop or him for any length of time. It embarrassed him because, as Mama Joy’s son, the one without any definite career path or responsibilities, he should’ve known more about her systems and the running of the family business. He was a knitter and knew some yarn fundamentals, but listening to Kerry, it was clear his knowledge was sorely lacking. She was perfectly spotlighting how well he’d wasted years fluttering from idea to idea and job to job on the pretense of finding himself. What an ass. As if he was ever going to find himself in any of the lame jobs he had been picking up anyway. Mama Joy must have been so disappointed in him. The fact that she faced his half-assed ways of playing at adulting with a constant unflappable positive energy was beyond him.

  Nope. Kerry didn’t need to be stuck with the responsibility that Mama Joy had of taking care of a slacker like him. And she wouldn’t be. At least not for long. He’d get his shit together. Finally, once and for all, and take the responsibility he should have taken years before.

  He thought of Kerry and her patience when explaining a pricing structure to him earlier. He could see she was being extra cautious, as if she were teaching one of her elementary students, which probably should have annoyed him, but honestly, he knew he needed just that type of step-by-step handling right now. Hard as it was to admit it.

  “You have to understand,” Kerry had told him when they were getting into yarn pricing, “these yarns are more expensive for lots of reasons: the material, which is rarer and harder to come by, the strength and wear. Of course, we have less expensive yarns and stock them to have a full range to serve the community, but putting more volume into cheaper yarns I think would be a mistake.”

  When he was about to argue further, being nervous about the amount of stock they had in these more expensive yarns, she shook him off, anticipating what he was going to say before he said it. “I know what you’re about to say, and yes, cheaper yarns can theoretically bring in more sales volume, but we can’t compromise there. If folks want that, there are the bigger discount stores to serve them. People do, and hopefully new customers will, come to us for the specialty hands-on experience.”

  Jesse coughed as his body unexpectedly heated. Kerry should not be using expressions like “hands-on.” It made his fingertips itch and his throat dry.

  She continued. “There’s just no way small shops like this could ever beat the big craft stores when it comes to discount yarns. So Mama Joy made a concerted effort to put most of the inventory in higher-quality specialty yarns from small, mostly independent contractors.”

  “Hence the high bills without a lot of revenue,” he said.

  “Hence the satisfied customer squealing over the idea of making a one-of-a-kind piece with a specialty yarn,” she shot back.

  “I totally get that,” he said. “But I can’t help but think we could probably get more people in the door if we had a lower-cost selection.”

  Kerry’s full lips tightened a bit as she grimaced. “I understand that cost for the crafter is always an issue, which is why we have to give them a reason behind each of the yarns we sell.”

  “Yeah, but we also have to get them in the door. We need to find a way to get in plenty more of those squealing customers if this business will end up staying afloat. With just a quick look over the books and listening to Mr. Sunshine Damian, if we keep operating the way things have been going, we’ll end up in the red every month.” He sighed and hated the defeatist sound of it. “But he’s right. There’s no way I’ll be able to lobby to keep the place open.” Jesse looked at the beautiful specialty yarns and knew their worth both monetarily and emotionally to those who would eventually create with them. “Not like this. They will end up wanting to sell for sure.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Kerry said, though the look in her eyes let him know that she was just as worried as he was. But then her look suddenly changed, her eyes taking on a surprising depth and sensuality that wasn’t there a moment before. Finally she broke her gaze and looked around the shop, getting up and pacing. “The old customers will be happy that we’re still here to serve the community even though Mama Joy is gone.”

  She gave him a saucy grin and a look that suddenly made him feel more naked fully clothed than he had the morning before. “I have a feeling once the word gets out that it’s you and your brothers who are keeping the shop open and taking over the business, well, you won’t have that much trouble getting in those squealing customers.”

  Jesse raised his brow. “Why do I get the feeling that we’re not talking pricing and inventory, but now something entirely different?”

  “Not entirely—let’s just say my mind has flipped to branding. And I’m not talking a full revamp or anything too far from the shop’s foundations and roots.”

  Jesse gave her a hard look. “So what are you talking about?”

  She raised a brow at him and grinned. “You know how Mama Joy would always go on about using what you’ve got to get what you need? Well, you guys have got needs. So it’s time to use what you’ve got.”

  Jesse suddenly covered his chest with his hands and gasped. “Now I know we’re not talking about yarn and inventory.”

  The discussion and her ultimate laughter were at the top of his mind as he finally stepped into Bird’s. At first he’d said no to Craig’s and Ziggy’s texts to come out. But after Kerry left and it was just him feeling how large the small shop felt when it was empty, it suddenly seemed like too much to bear. Yeah, he knew it was mad sketchy of him to run away from his feelings once again, but it was what he did best. Besides, at least with this run he wouldn’t end up with another Erika-in-the-morning situation. His letting that happen showed just how off his game he was.

  But there would be no games tonight. Just some food to fill him up and a quick drink to send him off. That was all he needed.

  Besides, Bird’s was a no-brainer distraction. An old Harlem spot, it had recently been remodeled to cater to a younger clientele. Thankfully it hadn’t gone too far with its updates and still kept most of its original charm. Folks were even more thankful that they had kept their original cooks, because Bird’s had some of the best wings in Harlem—still at a half-decent price if you could catch them on special, and Jesse was still in time for wing hour.

  There were no pretenses at Bird’s. No bouncers or red velvet rope out front. At Bird’s there was none of the pressure to put on a performance just for a drink and a decent hot wing. It was a good thing too, because Jesse didn’t think he had it in him to put on a show tonight. The day had taken enough out of him already with Kerry taxing both his brain and his body. Stepping in the front entrance and looking into the assessing eyes of the night’s hostess though, Jesse quickly realized that maybe he might have to do a little two-step, as it were.

  “Hey, Jesse,” the hostess said. She tilted her head with a certain amount of suspicion and then ran her tongue over her front teeth. “Good to see you. It’s been a minute.”

  Jesse looked at her, trying to keep his gaze steady and not give away the fact that he was trying to piece together the puzzle forming in his mind. Quick images of lips, tongues, breasts and thighs came to him, and he gave her a cautious smile, careful not to overplay his hand as he recalled the quick make out session they’d shared two months before.

  But his smile faltered when her eyes took on a hard edge of sharpness. “I had hoped to hear from you but maybe you lost my number after we last saw each other.”

  Shit. Why hadn’t he remembered about her working here when he agreed to wings at Bird’s, and why couldn’t he remember her name? He searched his mind, bringing up their encounter. Her lips, her neck, thighs, breasts, panties, silk, blue silk. Blue! “Sorry about that, Blue,” he said, his eyes softening as he sighed, relieved to have remembered her name. “I’ve had a lot on my mind lately and then, wel
l, there have been some personal things going on.”

  Her harsh look eased and she put her hand to her mouth. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. I’m sure you have had a lot going on. I should have started with giving my condolences.”

  Jesse shook his head. “There’s no need. It’s not like you met my mom.” He knew immediately the moment the meaning of his words struck her. She nodded to cover it up and it only made him feel worse. This was the second time that he was callous over what should have just been a kind acceptance of words of comfort. For some reason, hearing the words from women he never even brought by to meet Mama Joy just felt false. Why act like they were something more than they were now? Yeah, it was cold, but that was the truth of it.

  He and Blue had made out. Not so much as a proper hookup, or even halfway to it, and he was sorry to disappoint her, but no, he hadn’t called her. But look at the other side—it wasn’t like she’d called him either. What year was this? It wasn’t like he was that hard to look up. Try as he might, being Jesse Strong made it hard as hell to go completely ghost in the little village of Harlem. Jesse gave a nod to Blue but kept his smile reserved. He looked past her, checking out the crowd. It looked like there would be a wait for a table, and the bar was three or four deep in some spots. Finally, he spotted Ziggy at a booth in the back.

  “I see my friends over there and they already have a table,” he said to Blue. “It’s been good catching up. Maybe we’ll get to do it again soon.” Again? What had he just told himself? Damn, habits were hard to break.

  Blue’s smile went wide and she shifted, popping a hip and pumping out her breasts. “Sure,” she said. “I believe you have my number.”

  He nodded and started toward the back of the restaurant. “I’m sure I do.”

  Yeah, he had her number and Erika’s and so many others. But he didn’t have time for that now. Not with all he had to do to get the shop reopened. Not to mention working with Kerry. It took just about all he had to keep his head on straight. Making that mistake with Erika was bad enough, but having Kerry greet her in the morning—well, it was downright embarrassing.