How to Knit a Love Song Read Online Free PDF Page B

Morro Bay up. The fast-food options really are pretty limited out there. But the view isn’t. It was the most gorgeous drive…”
    “Well, you’ve certainly had a good day. A great drive, an inheritance that stripped a man of his home and birthright, and now that same man is fixing something for you to eat. Enchiladas, to be exact.”
    Abigail had just sat down in the wicker rocker in the corner of the kitchen. But she stood up. So much for this idea.
    “I didn’t know about all this. Eliza didn’t tell me. And I don’t need dinner.”
    “Oh, hell, I’m already reheating it.”
    Abigail waited a beat before saying, “I’ll accept your enchilada, because I think I might die without eating.”
    Cade hit the microwave buttons until it made a low hum and then turned to look at her.
    She returned his gaze.
    Neither said anything for a moment. The air in the kitchen filled with the scent of chilies, and something thicker that Abigail didn’t want to name.
    She held his gaze. And her breath.
    “Damn it, I believe you,” Cade finally said as the microwave beeped. He took out the food, turned it, and put it back in.
    “It’s the truth. I never even knew exactly where you lived. I’d heard about you, of course, and I knew you had sheep, and I also knew that Eliza went to see you a couple of times a year, but I didn’t know that you lived here, on her land. Honest to God.”
    “I said, I believe you.” He removed the food, grabbed a fork out of a drawer and handed it to her.
    “Aren’t you eating?”
    “I ate at six. Like normal people.”
    “I was pretty freaked out.”
    “Yeah? Join the club.”
    She took a bite. “Oh, wow. This is great.” She was ravenous. “Something, there’s something in here…”
    “Chipotle peppers.”
    “That’s it. I’m impressed.” Abigail smiled at him.
    But he frowned. “Don’t be. And tomorrow, if you go left at the gate, five miles down Highway One to Cypress Hollow, go right on Main, there’s a grocery store. Stock up. I won’t be feeding you anymore. Your room is up the stairs, first door on the left.”
    And with that, he walked out of the room.
    Abigail sighed and took another bite. She could do this. She was brave. She was safe here.
    Maybe if she just kept telling herself that, she’d start to believe it.

Chapter Six
Join the stitches at the cuff in the round. Make sure you haven’t twisted them; that only ends in tears and someone’s dinner burning.
— E.C.
    C ade had already finished the morning chores with Tom by the time he saw Abigail moving around the kitchen through the window. Almost nine in the morning. Cade couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept till nine. It might have been five or six years ago, when he was dating that one girl, oh, what had her name been? Susie? Margie? Whoever she was, she’d bet him fifty bucks that he couldn’t stay in bed past nine in the morning. Like a moron, he’d taken the bet, arranging for Tom to do all the imperative chores. He could do it. He’d prove her wrong.
    Then he’d stayed in bed with her—the girl, whatever her name had been, climbing all over him, doing crazy things to him with her hands, her mouth, doing everything within her power to distract him, to bring his mind back into bed, but he hadn’t been able to stay focused.
    He’d stayed in bed until eight, and then he got up, handed her fifty dollars, and was in the barn before she left. He never saw her again.
    He strode toward the house through the thin, warm fall light. This was the best time of year—the slight scent of wood smoke mixed with the smell of his neighbors’ burning leaves. The air was cool but not yet cold. It would be cold soon, though, he would bet. Just in time for his ewes to start lambing. He preferred to lamb in late November, to make the most of the Easter rush. Children from all over the county got their 4-H lambs from him. His sheep were known for being both attractively built and strong.
    High white clouds