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“We’ll get you in here to run the group, if you’re not careful,” Judith threatened.
Esme chortled. “Never gonna look at you the same way again, doc.”
Solo winked, and Esme’s round face went pink with pleasure.
As Solo handed Polly her knitting, their fingers skimmed. A sizzle of heat licked at her core. As he rose from the chair, she caught the scent of him, washing powder, and warm, clean maleness. A particular smell that was all his, and suddenly she was transported back to tangled sheets and a vision of his features contorted with pleasure.
Twang.
This was so not the place, but she knew it was mutual as their eyes locked.
“I’ll leave you to get on with it,” he said, his voice husky-edged. “I’ve got to write up some discharge summaries.”
There was a general buzz of “don’t go, Doc Solo. Stay and teach us how to knit beanies”, to which Solo raised his hands and backed, laughing, out of the room.
“Don’t spread this around,” he said. “It might cost me my job.”
Then he was gone, leaving Polly staring at her knitting, aware that Judith was staring ather.
* * *
Walkingoff the ward at the end of the day, Solo had trouble keeping the grin off his face. Polly’s gobsmacked expression had been classic; he wished he’d been able to catch a snap on his phone. For the first time since their amazing, explosive night together, he was pretty sure he’d done something right.
Yep, he was proud to admit it, he was good at knitting. Nan had taught him. Perfecting cables and trying out new and intricate patterns had become a form of stress release since then. It had taken him a few years to walk into knitting shops with his head held high, but he’d got to the stage now where he went in to feel the wool under his fingers, the colours and textures, and had become comfortable discussing patterns with the sales staff.
He’d even knitted Emma a sweater. Back in the day.
He was just having a fantasy of what colour wool he’d choose for Polly when a footfall, light and swift, made him turn.
Wild curls tumbled out of her up-do, making her look dangerously cute, cheeks flushed as she bounded towards him. She must have literally run to catch up with him, and the realisation made him stand that bit taller.
“Hi,” she gasped as she came level.
“Hi.”
“That was some stunt you pulled earlier.”
He gave a little snort. “No stunt. Just clearing up the mess you’d got yourself into.”
Now it was Polly’s turn to snort. “I wasn’t in a mess.”
“No? You enjoy torturing balls of wool in your spare time, do you?”
“It just so happens”—she tilted her head at him, and he found his eyes dwelling on the creamy skin at the hollow of her neck—“some of us have better things to do with our spare time than knit.”
They’d reached his bike and he put his helmet on the seat and stared straight at her.
Polly shoved her hands into her pant pockets.
“Like what?”
Her brows creased and she nibbled on her lower lip.She wants to ask you on a date.The thought sent a zing of electricity along his spine. If that was the case, he wasn’t going to refuse. Professionalism be damned. He planted his legs wide and let his gaze drill into her. He was rewarded with a wave of colour shifting across her cheeks.
Her green gaze zoned in and sparked with his. “Like partying,” she said, chin kicking up. “And when I party, I party hard.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
