Scenes From the City: A Knitting in the City Wintertime Surprise Read Online Free PDF Page B

bottom.”
    My automatic smile was a little shy and a whole lot goofy, his words caused a spreading warmth from my chest to my forehead and stomach and fingertips. He was so good at catching me off guard with these lovely little comments. The best part was that he said them so nonchalantly, like he had no idea they were compliments. Rather, to him it was just plain honesty, and that made the words a gift.
    After rinsing my cup and basking in the glow of his impromptu and unassuming admission, I walked around the counter and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He turned to meet me, and before I could withdraw, his hands grabbed my hips to stay my retreat, bringing me between his legs.
    “I’ll meet you at the museum at four thirty?” he said, his lovely voice lovely and…just lovely.
    I smiled, again shy and goofy, and placed my hands on his broad shoulders. “Uh-huh.”
    He pulled me closer, kissed my neck, then whispered in my ear, “Then after we’ll have cake.”
    “Uh-huh.” I nodded then shivered because his hot breath tickled me.
      He nibbled on my jaw, his hands sliding up my sides. I pressed myself into his palms and sighed, “I’m going to be late. Being late, I can’t abate or profligate. If I’m late I’ll have to stay, and you’ll wait, as we have a very important date.”
    Alex exhaled a laugh, nuzzling my neck, then lifted his head and gave me a fast kiss. “Nice rhyme.”
    I squeezed his shoulders and stepped away, reaching for my bag and coat. “See you at eight-”
    “Four thirty.”
    “Yes, but eight rhymes with late. If you’d let me finished, I was going to say, see you at eight divided by two plus thirty, mate.” Walking backwards, I gave him a salute.
    “My wife is crazy.” He folded his arms and watched me back toward the hallway. He wasn’t smiling—not with his mouth—rather he was just looking me with his dark blue eyes, all intense and focused. I knew I had to go, but like most mornings I didn’t really want to. I was under the Alex love spell, and while in his vicinity, I mock-seriously considered leaving real life behind and abandoning all my responsibilities in favor of marathon make-out sessions.
    Not really…but sorta…but not really…but sorta.
    “You love my crazy. It makes excellent fig chutney.” I turned, grabbed my coat, and opened the door to leave, a big fat smile on my face.
    “Looking forward to you getting off.” I heard him call after me, and I laughed—happily and stupidly in love.
    ***
    I was late.
    I was a full hour late, and that meant the museum was twenty minutes from closing.
    I’d texted Alex and suggested we meet at the cake place and forego the museum, but he insisted that we go anyway. I found him waiting for me outside of the building at the bottom of the steps. He stood out for several reasons. First, he was the only person not staring at his phone; rather, he was people watching. Second, he was—by far—the sexiest man in the world (to me), therefore he stood out like a stripper at Sunday service.
    And third, people had given him a wide radius of personal space. He’d grown back his faux Mohawk at my request after having a respectable haircut for over a year. This plus his large frame, dark jeans, black boots, black T-shirt, and general air of don’t fuck with me typically repelled strangers.
    As soon as he spotted me, he straightened from where he’d been leaning and jogged over . In a rush, he pulled me in for a fast kiss then thrust something in my hands.
    “Here. Put this on.”
    I glanced down at the object; it was a black T-shirt. I placed my bag on the ground and shrugged into the shirt, but I didn’t get a chance to read it because Alex grabbed my bag and my hand and tugged me toward the entrance to the museum.
    “We have to hurry.” He said without looking back at me. “Are you okay to jog in those shoes?”
    “Sure…” I could and I would; but I’d pay for it later. I gave my sky-blue heels a weary once over, then