by Heidi Betts
Her mind raced for a way to talk to him, to get him alone for what she needed to say to him.
Yeah, like that was going to happen any time soon.
But she didn’t want to wait for the game to end, for the crowd to file out, for him to come back out of the locker room and head for the parking lot.
She glanced around, frantically trying to decide what to do. Think, think, think, as Winnie-the-Pooh would say.
And then it came to her, in one of those lightbulb moments. A smile spread across her face, and she turned in the direction she needed to go.
“You guys go ahead and find seats, I’ll be back in a bit.”
Her friends opened their mouths to ask where she was headed, she was sure, but she simply didn’t have time to share her plan. She had a lot of work to do, and a short amount of time to do it.
The clock buzzed, and the crowd jumped to its collective feet to cheer and hoot the Rockets’ win. Win, hell, they’d pummeled their opponents into the ground.
Zack grinned at the trouncing his teammates had given the visiting players, even as he wished he’d been out there, doing his part to kick ass and take names.
Maybe next time. Well, not next time, but soon. His knee was getting better by the day, and the doctors said he’d be ready to get out there again in a matter of months, maybe weeks.
Even if the season was over by then, he’d be happy just to be able to participate again and be a part of the team…and be out there next season, ready to hit the ice running and lead them straight to the playoffs.
People were starting to mill around in the stands, not yet ready to leave the arena, but not having a lot to hold their attention any longer, either.
His teammates were skating off the ice, and he took great pleasure in being one of the people just behind the bench, high-fiving every one of them as they passed.
Overhead, the announcer’s voice came back on the intercom. Odd for this portion of the game, when there was no more play-by-play and no more color commentary needed.
Then he heard his name, and his brow creased.
Whoa, say that again, he thought, straining to hear.
“…turn your attention to the big screen,” the announcer said.
Zack craned his neck, staring at the scoreboard. For a minute, he didn’t see anything but the usual—the game scores and some colorful, animated graphics congratulating the Rockets on their win. A second later, though, the text changed, and his heart skipped a beat.
Hey, Hot Legs, it said, scrolling slowly, will you marry me?
His jaw dropped in shock, and there was a buzzing in his ears that had nothing to do with the high-decibel hum of voices inside the arena. He felt his face flame as hundreds of heads swiveled and hundreds of sets of eyes locked on him.
What kind of dumb-ass joke was this? he wondered, waiting for the punch line.
“So…” a soft voice murmured from just behind his left ear. “What’s your answer going to be, Hot Legs?”
If his heart had skipped a beat at the question flashing larger than life on the big screen, it screeched to a smoking halt now. He turned slowly to face Grace, who stood one step above him, looking like an angel in her long, white coat and with the overhead fluorescents casting a halo effect around her pale face and curly blond hair.
While he watched, she stepped down and moved directly in front of him. He lowered his chin, but never took his gaze from hers.
“What are you doing here, Grace?” he asked, surprised he was capable of speech at all, but not that the words came out graveled and rough.
She raised a brow, one corner of her mouth lifting with amusement. “The whole big, giant, very public gesture didn’t clue you in?” she tossed back, laughter dancing in her eyes.
“I don’t get it.”
Was he missing something here? Was he being Punk’d? Had he fallen into some bizarre parallel universe where black was white, green meant stop, and red meant go? It certainly felt that way to him.
“Then let me clear things up for you,” she said.
Something hit him in the solar plexus and he grunted, raising a hand to take whatever she’d just thrust at him. Glancing down, he found a plain yellow mailer. Not thick, not heavy, which meant she’d backed the envelope with a hearty, well-placed, very intentional punch.
God, he loved this woman, even if she didn’t love him back. Not anymore.
“I didn’t need this,” she told him. “I needed time, I needed a little space, I needed to be sure I could trust myself as much as you before I threw myself back into our relationship. But I didn’t need a lie detector test to tell me you didn’t cheat on me.”
So that’s what was in the envelope. No doubt Gage had taken it upon himself to give the results to Grace after he’d told his friend to toss them.
Zack hadn’t needed to see them, since he knew the truth. And he hadn’t seen much sense in making sure Grace saw them, since he’d been fairly certain that ship had already sailed off into the sunset.
Now, though, he couldn’t quite gauge Grace’s reaction, so he didn’t know whether he owed his friend a swift kick in the ass or a grateful handshake.
His gut lurched. The blood drained from his brain, leaving him light-headed and slightly confused.
“I believe you, Zack,” Grace continued in a near-whisper. “I believed you the minute you looked me in the eye and told me you never wanted to be the kind of man your father was. That you would never hurt the woman you loved the way your father had hurt your mother.”
Something warm and pleasurable blossomed in his chest. He thought it might be…hope.
“I should have told you then,” she said. “I realize that now. But I’d behaved so badly, treated you so terribly…I needed to put everything into perspective and figure out how to apologize, how to mend things between us…and how to swallow my pride and ask you for forgiveness.”
Her mouth curled in distaste, and he smiled. Oh, no, the eating of crow and groveling for absolution was not his Grace’s style.
He swallowed hard, appalled when his throat closed and his eyes began to sting.
Shit, he couldn’t get weepy here, in front of all these people. They’d send him home with his chestnuts in Grace’s purse and never let him live it down.
“You’re forgiven,” he said, without a qualm, without even having to think about it.
Her lips curved in a shaky grin, her own eyes growing damp. “I really do love you, you know. So much, it hurts. Otherwise, the thought of you betraying me with another woman never would have sent me so off the deep end.”
He returned her crooked grin. “Yeah, I got that. But at least you brought my dog back. Eventually.”
She let out a watery chuckle. “The name Muffin never really suited him,” she admitted.
“Just enough to drive me crazy, right?”
“Right.”
Lifting a hand, she wiped at her running nose as a single tear slid down her cheek. A happy tear, he knew, because no way was this discussion leading to anything but the best—of everything.
He caught the moisture with the side of his thumb and brushed it away.
“This is where you proposed to me, but I messed that up, so now it’s my turn. What’s your answer, Hoolihan?” she demanded, cocking her head toward the message still flashing across the scoreboard, and studying him with those sapphire eyes, bright and filled with anticipation. “Will you marry me?”
He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers, letting their noses touch. His fingers ran over her soft, smooth cheeks before delving into her even softer hair.
Holding her face in his wide palms, he tipped her head back and brushed her lips with his. “Just try to stop me.”
Bind Off
It had been only a week and a half since all the pieces fell into place and everyone had been blessed with their own happy ending.
Charlotte just wished she could have been there to see it, up close and personal.
But the role of a fa
iry godmother/secret matchmaker, she supposed, didn’t allow her that privilege. She would have to content herself with secondhand knowledge and basking in the glow of the young lovers she’d played a part in getting together.
Unable to control her glee, she stopped right in the middle of the main aisle of The Yarn Barn on her way to join her knitting group at the rear of the store, and did a little jig.
The magic spinning wheel that had been passed down from generation to generation in her family was three for three. There was no question now, no way that anyone could doubt it had very special true-love powers.
After all, it had brought true love to six individuals in only a little over a year.
Deep, abiding love, Charlotte was sure. All three of the young couples she’d slyly gifted with skeins of enchanted yarn had gone through too much not to appreciate their mates and what they had together.
And she had orchestrated their relationships from behind the scenes, without any of them ever being the wiser.
She let out a happy, private chuckle as she approached the circle of chairs where the other Knit Wits were waiting.
“Charlotte!” they greeted her, almost in unison, sending a satisfied warmth spreading through her body.
She loved this group, and every single woman in it. Although, yes, if someone held a match to her highly sprayed and shellacked hive of hair, she supposed she would have to admit that she had a few favorites—namely her niece, Jenna, and her two friends, Ronnie and Grace.
Was it any wonder, then, that she’d chosen those three girls for her magic yarn and spinning wheel experiment? They also happened to be the only three in the group who’d really needed a bit of supernatural help in the romance department, but that was neither here nor there.
Taking an empty seat, she dug out the supplies for her latest project. Even nearing the big seven-oh, Charlotte was a hopeless romantic, and had decided that if the ancient spinning wheel had woven strands of yarn that could bring young people together—especially those who had been so dead set against each other in the beginning—then it might just work for her, too.
After getting the grand news that Grace had reconciled with her hockey player beau, Zackary, she had stayed up all night watching the repeated coverage of their surprise engagement—which had been taped from several angles because it had taken place in the middle of a crowded hockey arena—on one of the sports stations, and using her magic wheel to spin a thick, wonderful yarn just for herself.
Well, for herself and the special man she hoped the yarn would work to tie her to forever. She was making it into a big, comfortable blanket, wide enough for two—or at least two vertically challenged individuals like herself—to cuddle beneath. If she was lucky.
The first ten minutes of the knitting meeting were spent in idle chitchat, mostly about the weather and everyone’s week at work. The conversations were punctuated by both laughter and the muted, uneven clickety-clack of metal, plastic, and wooden needles as each of them worked on their respective items.
“Grace, dear,” Charlotte said, meeting the other woman’s gaze without missing a stitch, “I see you’ve decided to try your hand at that homemade wedding gown again.”
Grace laughed, lifting the teeny-tiny needles and thread-thin yarn she was using to make merely one small piece of the many, many panels she would need to complete the entire dress.
“Yeah. I’m feeling kind of stupid now for unraveling what I already had done. I wouldn’t be so far behind now if I hadn’t.”
“So you and your man have really patched things up, hmm?” Charlotte asked, though she knew very well the answer.
“Oh, yeah,” the perky blonde murmured, cheeks flushing a becoming shade of pink. “Over and over and over again.”
Tittering giggles rippled around the circle, and Charlotte joined in, happy that Grace and her young man were once again able to find love and happiness, despite the rocky road they’d traveled to get there.
“And what about you, Ronnie?” she wanted to know. “Are you and that Dylan fellow still getting on well?”
The stylishly dressed brunette blushed more than Charlotte would have expected and ducked her chin. “Actually …” she murmured in a low voice, letting the word trail off for several long seconds.
Then she raised her head, took a deep breath, and said, “I’ve been waiting to tell you, and just can’t stand it anymore, so…” Another deep breath before she thrust her left hand out in front of her, squeezed her eyes closed, and blurted, “He proposed, and I said yes!”
Knitting forgotten, shrieks and screams and whoops went around the circle, and every single woman in the group jumped up both to get a closer look at the rock on Ronnie’s finger and to hug her in hearty congratulations.
They all wanted to know when and how, and a glowing Ronnie explained that after witnessing Grace’s very public proposal to Zack and their reengagement, Dylan had decided it was high time they tied the knot, as well. He’d apparently thought about doing something equally public and spectacular, like putting an ad in her paper, the Cleveland Sentinel, or finding a way to turn his proposal into one of their notorious challenges.
But in the end, he’d opted to simply take her out to dinner at her favorite restaurant and slip the ring onto her dessert plate. She admitted to not even noticing the piece of jewelry at first—or rather, not realizing what it was. It had sparkled in the candlelight, but she’d thought it was just another frilly decoration the restaurant used to fancy up their meal presentations.
When it had dawned on her that it was a diamond ring, and that it was real, she’d squealed and hopped up to hug him, doing the whole yes, yes, yes chant to make sure he knew that she did, indeed, accept his offer.
Quite the switch from the days when she’d thought Dylan was scum and had taken great pleasure in calling him every name in the book—plus a few that she’d coined herself. And though Charlotte had been thrilled when the two of them hooked up and started dating, it surprised her as much as anyone else to hear that Ronnie was willingly headed for the altar. She would have expected a lot more kicking and screaming from a woman who seemed to thrive on disagreements, and had prided herself on not needing a man. Any man.
This was wonderful, though. Even more definitive proof that the spinning wheel and yarn worked exactly as it was supposed to.
After they’d all settled down and finished admiring Ronnie’s gorgeous, one-and-a-half-carat diamond and white gold engagement ring, Charlotte turned her attention to her niece.
“And how are you, Jenna? Feeling all right these days?”
Jenna nodded, still beaming in delight over both her friend’s good news and her own pregnancy. “Except for the daily bouts of morning sickness, I feel terrific. I know it’s early yet, but Gage and I are trying to decide how to decorate the nursery. We don’t want to know the baby’s gender ahead of time, so we’ll probably end up going with something neutral like yellow or green, but he wants teddy bears and I want zoo animals.”
“As long as you don’t go for a carnival theme,” Grace put in. “Those scary-ass clowns will scar the kid for life.”
Everybody laughed, most of them in agreement on the scary-ass clown thing.
“I did clouds and angels for my first, and Sesame Street for my second,” Melanie said, barely looking up from the purple hat-and-mitten set she was making. “I much preferred the Sesame Street characters. They were more fun, and after a while, those chubby-cheeked angels just started to look demonic. Especially at four in the morning when I had to go in for the five hundredth feeding and changing of the night.”
Ronnie elbowed Jenna good-naturedly. “See all the great stuff you have to look forward to.”
“Hey,” Jenna returned, “I’ve been wanting a baby for so long, I’ll go without sleep for a year after this one is born, if that’s what it takes. But I’ve already let Gage know that he will be carrying his fair share of baby weight…figuratively speaking, unfortunately.” Her lips curled wryly. “Otherwi
se, this child is destined to be an only child, because he won’t be getting close enough to knock me up again any time soon.”
“You tell ‘im, girlfriend!” Melanie chimed in, and the others joined her show of support for layin’ down the law.
“Well, I’m just so happy for all of you,” Charlotte said, unable to hold back the wide grin stretching across her face. “Everything’s really coming together for the three of you, isn’t it?”
They nodded happily in agreement.
A second later, though, Grace slowly said her name. Slowly and softly—so softly that Charlotte raised her head from her knitting.
“Yes, dear?”
“You didn’t…do anything, did you?”
A skitter of panic rolled down her spine. Oh, she shouldn’t have said anything, should have bitten back her smile and enthusiasm so they wouldn’t become suspicious. But she was just sooooo pleased that her machinations and the powers of the enchanted spinning wheel had worked exactly the way she’d intended. Better, even, than she ever could have hoped.
“Do what, dear?” she asked, lowering her gaze and doing her best to play innocent.
“I don’t know.”
Grace had stopped knitting, and Charlotte could feel her steely stare burning through the triple-stacked curls of her Lucille Ball ‘do and all the layers of hairspray surrounding it.
“You just seem a little too…chipper tonight. A little too…pleased on our behalfs.”
“Oh, you know me,” she responded with an airy chuckle. “I don’t have much of a life of my own these days, so I like to live vicariously through you younger girls who are out there having fun, enjoying yourselves, and falling in love.”
From the doubtful glint in Grace’s eyes, Charlotte didn’t think the young woman believed a word of it. But thankfully, when Charlotte glanced at the wall clock, she discovered that the meeting hour was up.
Normally, she would be sorry about that, but tonight she was grateful for the fast passage of time if it meant escaping Grace’s too-keen inquisition.