different. I scan the store, music still blaring though my headphones. I spot the hat first, then the soft curls, then the defined jaw and sharp nose. Lachlan is definitely not movie star gorgeous, but there’s something about him that demands attention. I would be lying if I said I didn’t like looking at him.
He sees me and grins. His mouth moves, then he gets up and walks toward me. He lifts one ear of my headphones and puts his face close enough to mine that I can feel his breath on my skin. The scent of toothpaste fills my nose and the minty air stings my eyes.
“Nice to see you again, Talia,” he whispers as I stab at the buttons of my music player, trying to make it stop.
“Good taste, Hat Girl,” he continues. “This band is pretty badass.”
He replaces the earpiece on my ear and sits back down. All the other ladies are watching me, except Marybeth. Marybeth is glaring.
I push my headphones down and make my way to the couches in the middle of the room. Nan’s chair is the only one open. Lachlan’s in mine. I glance around the room and most of the ladies have gone back to their knitting or their conversations about knitting, but Marybeth is still glaring.
“Sorry I didn’t bring the cookies, Marybeth. I just don’t...”
Lachlan puts his hand out to stop me and points his thumb at Marybeth.
“She’s pissed that I’m here,” Lachlan says. Georgina reaches out and smacks him with her knitting needle. Marybeth’s glare deepens, and I have to move my eyes away from her so I don’t laugh. I connect with Lachlan’s gaze and he wiggles his eyebrows. My lips stretch into a smile. A real smile. It feels weird, but nice. I would ask if I sound crazy, but according to the doctors, I am.
“Anyways,” he starts, not taking his eyes off me. “I’m only here to say I’ve been bullied into helping with this artsy thing...”
Georgina hits him with the needle again.
“Okay, Gram, Jeez. I’ve been asked nicely to help you and I came by to say I would be honored to sell your doilies for you.”
Lachlan leans toward me, his elbows on his knees. He’s thin but muscular, like a hockey player, except I doubt he ever played hockey. He holds his hand out to me and I hesitate before I give him mine. He curls my fingers in his and presses his lips to the back of my hand.
I will my face to stay its natural colour, but goosebumps spring up along my arms at the light touch of his lips.
“I’m at your beck and call, m’lady.” His slight accent comes out in full force. He bows as he stands up and lets my hand go slowly, our fingertips sliding apart. “How was that, Gram?”
She beams at him. “Be back in two hours so we can make our plans.”
~
Two hours fly by but I can’t push Lachlan from my mind. The only thing I have the guts to ask is where he picked up that accent. Apparently he’s from Louisiana somewhere. The conversation never went farther than that. I’m confused as to why I want it to go further. I just can’t stop thinking about him.
I drop six stitches and have to start over twice as I show Anna how I do the cabling for the hat I’m working on. I stretch out my fingers then ball my hand into a fist before I continue knitting. The skin on the back of my hand still tingles. I have no idea what is wrong with me. I don’t even like him. He terrifies me more than anything. And now I have to plan a craft show with him? A craft show I don’t even want to plan.
The door jingles and so does my stomach. Lachlan sits down in my chair and leans back stretching his arms out and resting them on his head.
“Times up. Let’s plan a party, Gram.”
I study Lachlan and the way he slouches in his chair and grins like he doesn’t care about anything, like it’s no big deal he’s here. There’s something off about Lachlan and it tugs at that girly part of me that needs to know, that needs to find out which of the rumors are true and how much of his
He sees me and grins. His mouth moves, then he gets up and walks toward me. He lifts one ear of my headphones and puts his face close enough to mine that I can feel his breath on my skin. The scent of toothpaste fills my nose and the minty air stings my eyes.
“Nice to see you again, Talia,” he whispers as I stab at the buttons of my music player, trying to make it stop.
“Good taste, Hat Girl,” he continues. “This band is pretty badass.”
He replaces the earpiece on my ear and sits back down. All the other ladies are watching me, except Marybeth. Marybeth is glaring.
I push my headphones down and make my way to the couches in the middle of the room. Nan’s chair is the only one open. Lachlan’s in mine. I glance around the room and most of the ladies have gone back to their knitting or their conversations about knitting, but Marybeth is still glaring.
“Sorry I didn’t bring the cookies, Marybeth. I just don’t...”
Lachlan puts his hand out to stop me and points his thumb at Marybeth.
“She’s pissed that I’m here,” Lachlan says. Georgina reaches out and smacks him with her knitting needle. Marybeth’s glare deepens, and I have to move my eyes away from her so I don’t laugh. I connect with Lachlan’s gaze and he wiggles his eyebrows. My lips stretch into a smile. A real smile. It feels weird, but nice. I would ask if I sound crazy, but according to the doctors, I am.
“Anyways,” he starts, not taking his eyes off me. “I’m only here to say I’ve been bullied into helping with this artsy thing...”
Georgina hits him with the needle again.
“Okay, Gram, Jeez. I’ve been asked nicely to help you and I came by to say I would be honored to sell your doilies for you.”
Lachlan leans toward me, his elbows on his knees. He’s thin but muscular, like a hockey player, except I doubt he ever played hockey. He holds his hand out to me and I hesitate before I give him mine. He curls my fingers in his and presses his lips to the back of my hand.
I will my face to stay its natural colour, but goosebumps spring up along my arms at the light touch of his lips.
“I’m at your beck and call, m’lady.” His slight accent comes out in full force. He bows as he stands up and lets my hand go slowly, our fingertips sliding apart. “How was that, Gram?”
She beams at him. “Be back in two hours so we can make our plans.”
~
Two hours fly by but I can’t push Lachlan from my mind. The only thing I have the guts to ask is where he picked up that accent. Apparently he’s from Louisiana somewhere. The conversation never went farther than that. I’m confused as to why I want it to go further. I just can’t stop thinking about him.
I drop six stitches and have to start over twice as I show Anna how I do the cabling for the hat I’m working on. I stretch out my fingers then ball my hand into a fist before I continue knitting. The skin on the back of my hand still tingles. I have no idea what is wrong with me. I don’t even like him. He terrifies me more than anything. And now I have to plan a craft show with him? A craft show I don’t even want to plan.
The door jingles and so does my stomach. Lachlan sits down in my chair and leans back stretching his arms out and resting them on his head.
“Times up. Let’s plan a party, Gram.”
I study Lachlan and the way he slouches in his chair and grins like he doesn’t care about anything, like it’s no big deal he’s here. There’s something off about Lachlan and it tugs at that girly part of me that needs to know, that needs to find out which of the rumors are true and how much of his
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