AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Solo’s eyes held amusement as they met Polly’s, then dropped to the pile of wool on her lap. “The ward’s pretty empty, I thought I might find a few people in here.”
“Where else would they be on a Friday afternoon?” Judith chirped.
An eyebrow jagged up. “Didn’t know you were such an accomplished knitter, Polly.” His lips twitched.
Polly put on her best scowl. Did he have to look so edible? His white shirt casually undone at the collar, cuffs rolled up to his elbows and eyes so luminous it was as if they’d been backlit.
All the other women in the room seemed to notice it, too.
The thing was, Solo didn’t. He appeared oblivious to his appeal, unlike so many men she’d met. And somehow that only served to make him sexier.
Oh god, he was actually strolling over. Polly ducked her head. He went around the room, smiling and commenting on everyone’s masterpieces. He picked up Jenny’s teddy bear and agreed that it was just about the right cuddliness for her granddaughter. He said all the goddamn right things in just the right way. All the patients looked up at him adoringly.
Polly stifled the urge to shout,“He’s not a demi-god, you know!”
Finally he reached her table and complimented Celine on her tapestry. Clarke was looking at him warily; he would have had the hard word from Solo this morning about his escape from the ward, but Solo grinned and complimented his painting in a way that had the kid grinning like he’d just won the Archibald Prize.
Polly focused on ramming the stitches back on her needle.
Too late, his shadow loomed over her. “Let’s have a look atyourproject, Polly.”
She tried to cover it with her hands.
“Go on,” Esme crowed. “Show him what a pig’s ear you’ve made of it.”
“Thanks, Esme,” Polly gritted darkly.
With all eyes on her there was nothing to do but plonk it on the table. Only three stitches remained, hanging onto the needle like they were clinging to a precipice.
“I acknowledge it’s a disaster,” she remarked airily. All eyes around the room peered over. She added, “For the record, the social worker on Echidna Ward can’t knit for toffee.”
Quick-smart, Solo’s hand shot out and grabbed the needle and spaghetti of blue wool. Then he pulled up a chair and sat down next to her.
She gaped in amazement as he reached over, grabbed the other knitting needle off the table and wielded them both in his long fingers like chopsticks.
Silver eyes glittered. “Let’s put this right, shall we?”
Polly’s mouth went slack.
Swiftly, he cast on the stitches. “How many?” he directed at Judith, who was smiling at him like she’d gone a bit daft.
“Oh, um, forty.”
He nodded, lips tight with concentration. Polly leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms over her chest and tried not to notice the way the muscles of his forearms stood out as he worked the needles. How could a guy knitting be thishot?
A frown etched his brows as he counted stitches, then started to knit rows, his movements fast and fluid.
As he got the third row done, the place she had finally lost control, Solo held it up.
The room burst into applause. Esme put her fingers between her lips and whistled like she was barracking for her favourite footie team.
Polly gave a shrug, muttered, “Where did you learn to knit?”
“My nan taught me.”
“You took it in better than her baking tips, obviously.”
Apart from the quirk of those gorgeous lips, he ignored the obvious jibe. “I enjoy it. I knit scarves, the odd beanie for friends.”
