Page 19 of The Christmas Mittens
“Della did chew up the first pair of mittens, but after that, I put some of that bitter fruit spray on them. I kept coming in to donate and take mittens solely to see you.”
My jaw hit my chest. He chuckled softly. “I know that is terrible of me to do. But I liked the gentleness in your eyes the first time we met. And you were so open, so caring. You never made me feel as if I were less than for coming in to take the outerwear from the line. That says so much about you as a man and a human being.”
“I…wow.” I began to laugh softly, pulling a puzzled look from him. “I’m flattered beyond words. I’m so glad you kept coming in, and that we got to know each other. You’re so unlike anyone I have ever met before. I have some questions of my own that—”
The blare of a horn startled us badly. I jumped a good four inches, rattling the display case behind me and dislodging several packages of string. We leaped apart. My sight flew to the window where the auto parts van had just pulled in. Damn it to hell. What terrible timing.
“We can talk later. Do you have a bathroom where I can freshen up?” He looked rather sheepish now. It was a cute look.
“In the back,” I said, and he took off as Larry’s backup alarm sounded off. I jogged around, picking up string, and then ran to stand behind the counter, glancing down to ensure the mess in my shorts hadn’t leaked through my jeans. It hadn’t, thank God, or I’d have had to come up with some sort of coffee mishap lie.
“Morning, Mitch. It’s colder than a polar bear’s willy,” Larry announced a moment later as he nudged his way through the front door with my delivery. “You got any hot coffee?”
I jerked a thumb toward the corner and took the box from him. Ah right, Clarence Grant’s carb gasket kit. Now I could get to work on his fancy Swedish tiller. Not that he was going to need it anytime soon, but Clarence was a pickle when he had to wait for anything. There were also other small items inside the box as well as an invoice. I’d pay at the end of the month as always, but I did keep all the paperwork for my books.
“You hear about Tilly Newsome’s latest escapade?” Larry asked while filling a mug and then replacing the empty pot onto the burner. I gave him a look. With an eye roll that Gilda must have taught him, he turned the coffeemaker off and sauntered over. “She went out over the weekend with Travis Halliwell and left her boot in his truck. Sunday morning come, and Jackie, his wife, got in the truck to go to church and found the boot and then proceeded to thump Travis about the head with it. According to the guys at the township building, Travis looks like he went a few rounds with Manny Pacquiao!”
Larry always had the hot gossip, or goss as Gilda and her friends liked to say. Not to be rude, but I didn’t care about Travis and his shenanigans. I was more interested in poor Anders trapped in the back of the shop while Larry bullshitted about township workers.
“That’s something,” I tossed out, rubbing my stomach. “Man, am I hungry.”
Larry looked at his watch. “It’s barely eleven.”
“I know, but I was up early to knit and didn’t have time for breakfast.” I lied like a rug. Larry looked amused.
“You and your knitting. Okay, I’ll leave you to your lunch. I got to run something over to Caleb at the Four Pines shop. Guess Jackie Paulie had to be towed to his shop this morning after her radiator froze up. I’m always telling folks that you can’t keep putting plain water in your radiator after summer is over, but Jackie isn’t one of the brightest bulbs in the chandelier.”
I nodded, nudging him along and plucking my mug from his hand as I angled him out the door into the cold.
“Tell Caleb I said hello. Have a nice day!” I called and went back inside as Larry studied me with more than a little confusion. I hoped he would not notice the fancy mountain bike resting against the side of my shop or rumors would fly. More rumors that was. Guess Pastor Pete was already trying to playCupid given the fact that my daughter was asking if Anders and I were dating. If the good pastor was asking then others would be as well. Caught as I was now with egg on my face—and cold spunk in my shorts—denying that there was something brewing with the mystery man of my dreams was dumb. But I didn’t quite dare say we were dating since we’d never even discussed a date. All we had done was fall into a weed eater display and frot ourselves silly. Not complaining. It was a hell of a makeout slash frottage session, but it did not in any way, shape, or form…
“Stop. Just stop. Go check on the guy.” I shook off the rambling worry and pushed through the curtain to find him closing the door on the stove. He glanced at me over his shoulder and turned to face me. I paused, half a curtain resting on my shoulder, and stared. And there we stood. Two dunderheads gaping at each other. Awkward to the nth.
“It needed some wood. Are we now in that uncomfortable what the hell just happened phase of our new dynamic?” He ran a hand through his curls, leaving a bit of sawdust stuck to the ringlets. Too fucking cute.
“I hope not,” I dared and got a sigh of relief that went along with him closing the distance to take me into his arms and kiss me breathless.
“Oops, so sorry, I did it again.”
“Mm, you and Britney Spears.” I stole another kiss, a less hungry one, and held him close. “This is not at all how I saw my Monday playing out.”
“No, me either. You should clean up. Then we can talk, if you wish? I’m being very pushy, and I apologize. It comes with my past.” That made my snoopy-snoop senses tingle, but I was too gaga over him to push, so I nodded, slipped from his arms, and entered the little bathroom. The soap in the dish was still lathered from his use, so I unzipped and washed the best I could. It would have to do. The wet spot—it was a large one—woulddry, eventually. At least my pubes were springy now. Drying my hands afterward, I tossed the paper towels into the trash, sucked in a breath, and exited. Anders was strolling around the repair area, hands behind his back, looking over the machines in need of some TLC or major repairs.
“You seem to have quite a lot of jobs,” he said as he spun to face me.
“Thankfully so.” I suddenly felt uncomfortable. “Anders, I know that what happened in the showroom was just one of those volatile moments in a person’s life that—”
“Volatile, yes, but just a mere moment? No, I don’t think so. I’ve kissed many men in my life, and none have affected me as sharing that kiss with you did. I knew it would, and for that I am sorry. I should have kept a polite distance as they’d suggested, but I couldn’t do it.”
They? The two men in the dark suits? “Are you a member of the mafia?”
His eyes flared. “I…no, I…the mafia? No, I am not a mob member.” He seemed to find that suddenly funny as his shock gave way to a rough snort, then some titters, and then, which was a delight to see even if confusing as hell, he belly laughed for several minutes. Tears running down his cheeks, holding his sides, full-out roaring hysterics that slowed only when he ran out of breath. “Sorry…sorry…so rude. So rude…”
“No, it’s okay. You have a hearty laugh,” I said with a smile before leaning against my workbench and folding my arms over my chest. “I didn’t mean to sound stupid, but I saw two men in dark suits at your camper. They looked pretty imposing. Arms the size of my waist and crush your skull with their thighs intimidating. And, well…” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I sort of let my imagination get the better of me and assumed they were trying to rough you up for loan payments or protection money.”
“No, they were not roughing me up, quite the opposite, but that’s got the horse many miles in front of the barn. Let me just assure you I am not an organized crime member. I am in this country quite legally. What I wanted to discuss more than any of that was our coming together so vividly just forty feet away.” He waved a gloved hand at the curtain blowing in the warm air being circulated by the fan on the stove. Sure, he wanted to talk about that, and I did too, but there was also the matter of his murky past. Maybe murky wasn’t the right word. Shady? No, still not right. Dark? Nope. Secret? Hmm, maybe…“I came here today with an ulterior motive.”
“Oh?” I raised a brow.
