How to Knit a Love Song

by Rachael Herron

  “You’re an idiot, you know that?” But Cade’s voice was softer than normal. He navigated around her, careful not to jostle her. He moved the stool that had been in the corner of the room so that it was next to her. He put his hands under her arms.

  “You’re green. Sit.”

  With his hands supporting her, Abigail sank to the stool. “Well, at least the chunks Duncan took out of me don’t hurt anymore.”

  Cade kept one hand on her shoulder while he half turned and rummaged in the medicine cabinet. He pulled objects out as he spoke. “Band-Aids, Neosporin, hydrogen peroxide…” He looked down at her. “Ace bandage, two of them…”

  “Well-stocked bathroom.”

  “You never know. Now. First the foot.”

  “Don’t touch. Hurts.”

  Cade knelt in front of her. “You’ll be fine.” He put one hand on her calf.

  “Hurts!”

  “You’re a big baby.”

  “I am not.”

  “Then suck it up.” But again, his tone didn’t match his words. “Just breathe through it. I’ll be done quick.”

  He removed the soaked bandage, then picked up a hand towel to dry her foot. He used almost no pressure as he eased the cloth over it. Then he wrapped her foot, starting at her arch, rolling the Ace bandage around and around, using his hands to smooth out the fabric as he went.

  Abigail breathed. It didn’t hurt as much as it should, actually. If she’d done it, she would have made it too tight, she was sure. But his bandaging felt perfect, just like the doctor’s had. The snugness of it eased the pain. And the way his hands looked, moving from her instep to her calf, was a distraction all of its own.

  “Now for the blood.”

  What? Oh, that. Abigail loosened the tie on her robe and peeked at her stomach. She’d almost forgotten about the scratches. “They’re fine. Almost stopped bleeding.”

  He held up the tube of antiseptic. “You’re getting some of this anyway.”

  Was he enjoying this? Abigail scanned his face. Yes, he was. It was some kind of game to him.

  Was she enjoying it? Abigail was stunned to find she wanted to play along. She’d worry about the why of it later.

  “How do you plan on putting that on me?” She tried to flutter her lashes like Janet did. It just felt silly.

  Cade said, “The doctor recommends you open your robe just a bit more. Let me take a look at the damage.” He was better at this than she was. He had more practice, she reminded herself.

  Heat flushed Abigail’s face.

  She parted the robe at her stomach a bit more making sure her breasts and lap were still covered. “Would you mind?”

  Cade’s voice was hoarse. “Not at all.”

  He smoothed the antiseptic cream against the scratched and punctured skin. The cream was cool, his fingers warm.

  “I’m sorry about what I said in the hospital. The whole store thing shocked the hell out of me. I was confused. I was rude.”

  “You were. I accept your apology, but…” Abigail’s voice trailed off and she shut her eyes.

  What should have hurt Abigail didn’t. Her brain felt fuzzy. She wanted more scratches, more places for him to touch. She was having a hard time catching her breath.

  Cade, still kneeling, looked up at her. In his eyes was a question that Abigail couldn’t answer in words.

  His hand stilled on her skin. It moved to her waist. Then he placed his other hand on the other side of her waist. He stood, slowly, bringing her with him. He touched the skin just below her breast.

  He said, “What is it with you and me and this bathroom?”

  All she needed was a kiss. Abigail looked at him but no words came. And his eyes answered her.

  Cade’s mouth moved to cover hers. His hands held her lightly, but his mouth plundered. Abigail moaned. Arched her back. She moved his hand so that it cupped her breast. He gasped and pulled back, looking at her.

  “Wait,” he said. “You should go to bed and rest. Yeah, that’s a good idea. I should carry you there. And then I should leave you there. Right?” He tripped over the words so that they all ran together.

  “You shouldn’t leave me there.”

  “What?”

  Abigail wanted this. Suddenly, she needed this more than she needed air. She moved his left hand so that it cupped her other breast under the robe. “You should carry me there. And you shouldn’t leave.”

  Cade kissed her again, hard and hot. Then he made sure the door was fully open before he moved to lift her.

  “I’ll go slowly. Hold on.”

  “Hurry,” she whispered in his ear as he lifted her.

  In her room, he shooed Clara off the bed and set Abigail down.

  She tried to have a clear thought, just one. But she wanted this.

  “We need…” he said.

  She finished the sentence. “A condom. Do you…?”

  He nodded and disappeared out of the room. Abigail breathed. This was the guy who wanted her gone. Who didn’t want yarn anywhere near him. Who hated the idea of a yarn store, who’d fought with her twice today already. This was the guy who snapped and snarled.

  This was the man who’d held her when she got scared that night. Who’d made her breakfast. Who’d rescued her on horseback. Who’d bandaged her foot so that it didn’t hurt.

  This was the man who looked at her like no one else ever had.

  She untied the belt of her robe and dropped it to the floor. When Cade entered, she smiled at him. She felt a wave of happiness.

  She also felt her hands shaking.

  Cade laughed, a low sound. “I was going to ask if you’re still sure, but I think you just answered that.”

  “Please?” She held out her hands, and he came to her. His mouth covered hers again. They moved up the bed, carefully, so that her foot wasn’t jarred. Abigail used her hands to push down his boxer shorts. He helped, kicking them away.

  Abigail smiled against his mouth. “We seem to be suddenly naked.”

  “Baby, let me show you how naked we are.”

  Cade nibbled the side of Abigail’s neck, his tongue lightly stroking the sensitive skin around her ear. She half giggled, half gasped as he bit her earlobe. He breathed in her ear, and delicious chills ran over her body.

  She wanted more. She wanted him.

  “Please,” she said again, and drew his head to her breast.

  He obeyed her wishes; his mouth, hot and demanding, lapped her nipple, his tongue dancing around its sensitivity, then grasping the peak, tugging slightly. He pulled harder with his teeth. His hand was on her other breast, mimicking the motions of his mouth.

  She tested the thought of Samuel lightly in her mind.

  No. She wasn’t scared. She could only think of Cade, what he was doing to her, could only feel her delight in him.

  With his mouth still sucking her nipple, teasing it, licking and biting, his hand started drifting down, toward the center of her heat, where she throbbed.

  She laughed out loud and then gasped again. “I’m giddy. More, more.”

  He laughed and whispered, “You sure?”

  “Hell, yes,” she said. “Please, you have to…”

  She took his hand and led it down her body, gasping as he touched her. In no uncertain terms, she placed his hand where she wanted it to be.

  Cade followed, and moved his fingers slowly, exploring. She writhed, moaning under his touch. When he found the center of her cries, he focused there, making slow circles, using her wetness to his advantage.

  Her breathing sharpened, quickened, and she knew she was close. “Don’t stop,” she begged.

  “I won’t,” he whispered, his mouth still against hers. “I’m right here.”

  His fingers touched, circled, teased, and did exactly what she wanted them to.

  She shuddered, and groaned, and shook. Only a second away, only a breath away, and she needed more, now.

  “I want you. Now. Please, please, Cade, please, now.”

&nbs
p; He followed her, moving swiftly so that he was on top of her, parting her legs with his hips, and with one thrust that took her breath from her body, he was in her, still pressing that perfect spot that let her, brought her—oh, God, that was perfect. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only feel, as he filled her and kept moving.

  She came in undulating waves that spiraled around her, around the thickness of him.

  He moaned, and cursed, kissed and bit her neck as he moved in her. “I can feel you coming,” he managed to say, which made her clench even more tightly.

  She moved against him, drawing from him what he had just drawn from her. His breathing grew faster and he gasped, clutching her tightly. In the last moment, when their movements were hard, and slick, and urgent, his hands went to the sides of her face.

  She opened her eyes to find him staring at her, and she watched him hit his zenith, his eyes darkening and widening, until she felt herself moving up into him. That moment, those few seconds of falling into his eyes, as he came—those were as intimate as everything that had gone on before. Her heart fluttered—she felt her breath quicken again, in a different way.

  “Abigail,” he breathed, and then his weight was against her, all of him.

  She put her arms around him.

  They didn’t speak. Abigail felt Cade’s limbs go limp, and he grew heavier on top of her. She shifted, easing her hip from under his. He slid to the side.

  She faced him, gazing at him in light filtering in from the hall. She felt her own eyes growing heavy, but she stared at his face a little bit more.

  The moment of passion. It could hide or show anything, couldn’t it?

  She yawned. He was so comfortable to lean against, his leg thrown over hers, her back against a pillow, supported by his chest.

  Just before she closed her eyes, he opened his.

  He looked at her, and it echoed the last moment of passion—his eyes were still so dark, and the look was the same. She felt like she was drifting forward, into his gaze. He leaned forward, caught her mouth, and kissed her, the sweetest kiss that went on and on.

  She remembered nothing more.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  When it comes to deciding what kind of shaping to use, consider the recipient before you choose raglan, saddle-shoulder, or set-in. If he has very wide shoulders, just consider yourself lucky. Then use whatever technique you love best.

  —E.C.

  Cade’s first thought, after he woke, was about blueberry muffins. He knew for a fact Abigail liked blueberry muffins. She’d asked for one at the diner last week and had gobbled his when it was offered to her.

  He couldn’t see the alarm clock from where he was lying, but he could tell by the way the light was only starting to shift from black to gray that it was still early. Chores. Then to town for a muffin. If he moved fast, he could be back in bed with her in two hours, before she even woke.

  He hated to move, though. She was spooned in front of him, her back to him, her body curved into his. She fit him like he couldn’t remember anyone else ever fitting him. It was like that kid’s story with the bears—what was it? Goldilocks. Not too tall, not too short, not too big, not too small: Abigail was just right.

  But the chores wouldn’t get done with him lying here just thinking about how she felt. He lifted his arm from where it was draped over her and scooted backward. She murmured in her sleep. Cade leaned forward to listen.

  “Rabbits. And helium, with a hat.” Abigail’s voice was quiet, but the words were distinct. “Carded batts of raisins.” She giggled and then was suddenly quiet, her breathing deep and steady.

  He slid from the sheets into the cold morning air, shrugged on his workclothes and hit the door running, hoping Tom had made coffee. If he hadn’t, he would go without. It was all about speed right now.

  It was a gorgeous cold morning, the first real frost still lying on the longer blades of grass. He could see his breath. This was the kind of morning that he lived for. The countryside was quiet, no cars going by on the side road, the sun rising slowly and the air cold. Everything appeared in distinct relief against the palest blue sky.

  He worked hard and fast.

  An hour later, there was just one last thing to do. He carried pails of water out to Abigail’s shed. They had to get her a water hookup soon; those animals drank a ton.

  He would finish this, then get the muffins and go back up to the house. He would make good, strong coffee, and pour it into yellow mugs, and bring her a cup. She’d still be tangled in his sheets, eyes closed, soft and warm, everything he wanted to see, to touch in the morning.

  He’d wake her slowly, maybe sit next to her and watch to see if the coffee smell would wake her on its own. If it didn’t, he’d touch her, lightly. He would stroke that soft part of her cheek, maybe breathe a whisper of a kiss on the top of her hair. He’d run his hand down her side, over the sheet, barely brushing her.

  Damn, he was hard again, just thinking about being near her. He couldn’t finish watering the alpacas fast enough. What if she woke up? What if she thought better of last night?

  The pails sloshed as he jogged to the alpaca troughs. He dumped the water in, and checked on their feed.

  Half an hour, if he sped the whole way to town and back. In half an hour, he could be in his room with her, muffins in hand.

  The stillness of the morning air was broken by the chugging of a truck, rolling down the dirt road.

  Cade sighed. He didn’t want to have an early-morning talk with anyone, but he could tell it was Hooper’s orange Ford from where he stood. He was caught, a sitting duck out in the open. He didn’t have a chance. Hooper was practically a woman, one of the gabbiest men he knew. He was one of the regular breakfast crew at Tillie’s Diner. And Cade’d been spotted. Hooper slowed his truck and rolled down the passenger window.

  “Morning, Cade.”

  “Hi, Hoop. Hey, I’m in a hurry, can I catch up with you later?” Cade took a step toward the house, but Hooper held up his hand.

  “Just a sec. We miss you at Tillie’s. Ain’t seen you that often lately.” Hooper grinned at him. “So, that alpaca lady, huh? Word is she broke her leg chasing after you? Up on a hill or something?”

  “Jungle drums beating too loud, that’s all. Not even a broken leg. Just a sprained foot.”

  “So she still staying with you?”

  “As far as I know, Hooper.”

  “She’s not up yet, then?”

  “Wouldn’t know. And I’m not falling for it, Hooper. You have anything else for me this morning, or can I finish my chores?”

  Hooper’s face became serious. “I have to say something to you, and you might not like it, Cade.”

  Cade respected this man. He looked up to him as a mentor: a rancher who had done nothing in his whole life but make his land work. He stood still and nodded.

  “You worked hard here, taking the ranch over from Eliza like you did. Just about ready to be sold at auction and you brought it back to something serious. Your sheep are good and strong, and people talk about the way you run this place, like a spread ought to be managed. You only have one guy working for you. You’re out there, doing it, making it work. That’s what me and the other guys want to see in young guys like you.”

  Cade looked at his boots. The most he got from the breakfast crew was a punch in the shoulder every once in a while and an admission that his sheep weren’t the worst they’d ever seen.

  “Thanks, Hoop.”

  “But.”

  Uh-oh.

  “But we been talking, and we think this yarn thing you’re doing is bull-crap.”

  “Me? I’m not doing anything with yarn.”

  “And you got those stupid alpacas living here. You’re on the verge of turning this place into a school field trip. I mean, yarn is good, and my wife makes sweaters for me that I like fine. But she’s out-of-her-mind excited about this place. Talk is that it’s gonna serve coffee and have retreats or something where the ladies come
and stay out here for a weekend to learn about sheep ranching.”

  “Retreats?”

  “You were doing something good out here, something serious. Continuing a tradition. We were proud of you. This new venture you got going, this yarn thing, well, I’m sorry. That ain’t us. We’ve worked hard to get a name for ourselves out here in this part of the valley, and we don’t want you to ruin it. We don’t want the valley turning into a strip mall. Even if no one else will tell you what they think, I will. I think you’re going soft, and you’re going to hurt all of us. Think about it.”

  Hooper tapped his baseball cap, leaned over and rolled up the window, and drove up the road.

  Cade felt a burn start on the back of his neck.

  This yarn thing. People thought he, Cade, was starting this. They had to know it was her doing, didn’t they? Right?

  But it was still on his land. Or at least surrounded by it. That was the problem.

  Cade shook his head, trying to clear it. This was not how he’d felt when he woke that morning with Abigail in his arms.

  He thought he had been past this. He thought he’d been starting to accept what Eliza had put in front of him as unavoidable. He stood in place and scuffed his boot in the dirt, as he looked up at the window where she slept.

  Those old men would see. Her business would be separate from his. He’d have a successful ranch and she’d run a successful business. The property, all of it, would prosper.

  It couldn’t change the reputation of the valley. It wouldn’t.

  He turned his head and looked at the cottage.

  When would the big sign go up? Would it be flashy, with neon knitting needles? Or adorable, with a cutesy ball of yarn and a fat kitten batting it?

  He imagined the rows of parked cars and women squealing over the adorable alpacas.

  Damn Hooper.

  There would be no muffins. Really, they weren’t that good anyway. They were usually dry.

  Cade felt a pinprick of guilt. No, that was stupid. Abigail didn’t even know he’d been thinking about getting muffins. She wouldn’t miss what she didn’t know about.