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“True,” I laugh, “I should carry them around with me. You never know when a guy like that will need… needling.”
We stand there, just smiling at each other for a moment, and my pulse beats faster in my veins.
Is that…Interest I see in his gorgeous brown eyes?I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s been a while since a sexy, fun guy made eyes at me, but I like to think I wouldn’t forget that particular sparkle. And just when I’m wondering how to find the words to suggest we get a drink, or go to dinner, or head back to my apartment to strip naked and have wild, sweaty sex all night, someone clears their throat behind us.
“There you are.” A woman has appeared on the sidewalk, looking impatient—and gorgeous—in one of those skin-tight bandage dresses I could never dream of wearing.
“Here I am,” Austin says to her, as my heart sinks. Of course a man like this has a beautiful, statuesque counterpart.
He turns back to me, “Can I get you a cab? An ice-pack for your fist? Yarn?”
“You’re sweet.” I give him a regretful smile. “Thanks again, but I really am fine.”
That’s basically the Jenn Walker motto, on my family-of-one crest: I’m fine. No matter what disappointments or humiliations the world throws at me, I can count on myself—and that emergency stash of croissant dough in the back of my freezer.
So, flashing them both the mostfinesmile known to man, I take my dignity and my wounded pride, and walk away.
After all, I have some exciting knitting to get to.
