Georgia Sweethearts. Missy Tippens
sorry, we’re closed for the day.”
He held up his hands palms forward. “I apologize for scaring you. I’m not here to buy anything.” He stepped farther into the room, his rugged jacket and muscular build out of place next to the softest of baby yarns. “My name is Daniel Foreman. I’m Ann Sealy’s grandson.”
Ann, Aunt Talitha’s good friend. The ache of loss once again settled in Lilly’s chest, squeezing like a fist.
Lilly left the circle of folding chairs in the corner and walked behind the counter, trying to remember if she’d seen this man at the funeral. But that whole week was still a blur.
She busied her hands straightening receipts, anything to keep from giving in to the tears stinging her eyes. “Your grandmother was very kind to help my great-aunt in her last days.”
“I’ve met Jenna. So you must be Lilly, the other niece who inherited this place.” His friendly expression gentled as he moved to the counter. “I’m sorry for your loss. Miss Talitha was a kind, generous woman.”
“Thank you.” A fresh wave of grief battered her already-tender heart. Talitha Barnes had been both kind and generous. But more than that, she’d been the only family Lilly and her sister, Jenna, could ever count on. Their aunt’s long-distance love had been the one constant throughout their unstable childhood.
“I heard you lived in Louisville before moving here to Georgia. Has coming to as small a town as Corinthia been a shock?”
“A bit. But everyone’s been really nice.”
“So how’s business?”
“A little slow today.” And the day before. And the day before that. At his look of sympathy, she escaped to the corner seating area and picked up her knitting, pulling out the remaining stitches and starting over.
She wouldn’t share the fact that The Yarn Barn was in terrible financial shape. That she’d only sold three measly skeins of yarn earlier that day—from the bargain bin.
Or that Aunt Talitha had requested Lilly and Jenna run the store one full year before selling the business.
Once again, her heart raced—this time in anxiety—making her face tingle and her hands go numb. Not helpful when working with pointy needles.
“So you don’t knit, huh?” The sparkle returned to his eyes, teasing her, pushing away his look of sympathy...and with it, a little of her grief and panic.
As she fought for slow, even breaths, she glanced at the bins full of colorful yarn, at the shiny new computer on the sales counter, at the rack of pattern books—anywhere but in his eyes. Then she forced herself to meet his smile with her own. “Can’t knit. Or crochet. I’m a total klutz when it comes to anything craft-oriented.”
A laugh burst out of him, deep and rumbling, warming her, tempting her to relax, to quit worrying so much.
This time, she couldn’t look away from those playful blue eyes. She joined in the laughter. “Ironic, huh? Please don’t advertise my ineptitude.”
“I guess it wouldn’t be good for business.”
As their gazes locked and held, something passed between them. A kind of connection, or attraction.
She shook off the ridiculous notion. A good-looking man comes in, and she acts like an idiot, imagining things.
She stuffed her ugly, uneven knitting into the canvas tote bag to practice that night at home—Jenna’s home—and concentrated on the positive. Another day passed. One day closer to fulfilling the stipulation of her aunt’s will.
He turned and stared toward the back wall where she’d displayed some of her photos. “Nice. Who took these?”
“They’re mine. I majored in photojournalism. Ended up in retail.” When she returned to Kentucky, she planned to remedy that. To finally risk trying the career she’d always wanted.
“Sounds like an interesting story.” He moved closer to inspect one—her favorite, of an elderly woman in Appalachia looking up from a quilt she was working on, laughing. A woman who’d reminded Lilly of Aunt Talitha.
He tilted his head a little to the left. Then he took a step back but kept examining the photo. “You really captured the spirit of the woman in this one.”
She swallowed, touched that he’d shown interest. “Thanks.”
For a few seconds, he glanced away as if embarrassed. But then, squaring his shoulders, he said, “So is this a place for knitters to hang out?” He sat in one of six rickety folding chairs, dwarfing it, as he checked out the room.
Expecting the chair to buckle at any moment, she watched his expression fall into a slight frown as he inspected the hinges on the chair. She agreed with the sad state of some of the equipment, but they didn’t have the money to do anything about it. “What can I help you with, Daniel?”
He quit his perusal and stood. “I’m sorry to bother you after hours. But I’ve come by to check on the agreement to rent the basement of your building.”
Rent downstairs? “What agreement?”
His brows drew downward. “Didn’t Talitha mention she’d agreed to let our church rent the space?”
What had her aunt been thinking? “Well, actually...no. Please fill me in.”
“I’m pastor of a fairly new church, and we’ve outgrown our meeting space.”
“A pastor?” The man certainly didn’t look like he spent his day behind a desk. Or a pulpit.
He confirmed it with a nod. “In her last weeks, Talitha wasn’t doing well, and the shop was struggling. So my grandmother suggested she rent us the basement as a solution for everyone.”
“Aunt Talitha agreed?”
“She did. Told me we could have the space if we wanted it. I was hoping to take a look around. If it’s suitable, we’re ready to move in.”
“We can’t finish the basement right now. Plus, when we do, I plan to offer classes.” In the unlikely event she mastered knitting. “I’ll need the space.”
The pleasant look he’d maintained since entering the shop gave way to a flicker of impatience. But then he masked it. “If our church grows quickly enough, we wouldn’t be in your way for long. I don’t have anything in writing, but I hope you’ll consider honoring Talitha’s verbal offer.” He pulled a business card out of his pocket and gave it to her. “Give me a call any time.” He backed away and waved, once again the epitome of charm. “I’ll let you get back to your, uh, knitting?”
Ha-ha. He thought he was so funny. She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ll have you know, I used to know how.” No need to admit she’d never been more than proficient.
His crooked smile morphed into a full-fledged grin that sent her heart rate off the charts. A grin she’d find seriously attractive, if it weren’t coupled with the fact he was proving to be a complication to her plans for boosting business at the shop, a complication who seemed to think he was a comedian, no less.
“My apologies for underestimating your talent.” The teasing look in his eyes said otherwise. “I look forward to seeing your needlework, Lilly. Soon.” He gave a jaunty salute as he turned and left the shop.
She tried to suck in a full, stuttering breath to tell him he didn’t need to bother coming back. But of course, he’d already shut the door behind him.
She thought about his joke and had to laugh. She’d be a fool to let him get under her skin just because he was so attractive and they’d shared a moment. Besides, it wasn’t Daniel’s fault she was inept at all things crafty. It wasn’t his fault the store was struggling.
And even though she’d like to blame him, it wasn’t his fault she found it difficult to resist his charm.
No,