The Sweethearts’ Knitting Club

by Lori Wilde

  “Why are you so hung up on Calloway?”

  “Beau, you busted up his face!”

  “I know what it is, you’ve got this need to fix everyone, and I’m not broken so you go looking to fill that need somewhere else. But you can’t fix someone like Jesse Calloway.”

  “You’re not broken? Excuse me, Beau Trainer, that gun at your hip doesn’t make you superhuman. Nor does that Eagle Scout badge in your top dresser drawer. It’s all just a cover because deep down inside you’re nothing but a bully, just like your old man.”

  Beau’s sharp intake of breath told her that she’d stepped over the line. Not only had she crossed the line, but it wasn’t really true. Yes, Beau might have bullied Jesse, but that wasn’t his basic nature. That was what made this all so unbelievable.

  “I can’t believe you’re siding with this scumbag over your husband-to-be.”

  “You’re no longer my fiancé.” She tossed the ring on his desk. “I’m sorry, Beau, it’s over. And this time I mean it.”

  His face shifted, he was trying to be rational, to get his emotions under control, but she could see the pain in his eyes. “We’ve been together for ten years, Flynn.”

  “We were together because it was easy for us both, not because we’re right for each other. If we were truly meant to be, we wouldn’t have allowed circumstances to stop us from getting married.”

  “You were the one dragging your feet, and now I figure out it’s because you’ve been mooning over a convict for ten years.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I wasn’t mooning over Jesse. I was taking care of my dying mother and trying to keep my family from falling apart.”

  His graze drilled into hers. “Is it ridiculous?”

  She made a derisive noise, but her stomach roiled. “Yes it is. I’ve never even dated Jesse.”

  Not officially.

  “I saw you.” He’d gotten his emotions under control. His face was marble now, impassive, cold. That immovable object.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I saw you and Jesse last night. Underneath the Sweetheart Tree. Do you have any idea how that made me feel?” He went on in a voice so empty it chilled her to the bone. “You were mine, and when my back was turned you—”

  “It was just a kiss.”

  “Don’t give me that,” he said harshly.

  “It didn’t go any further. I didn’t cheat on you.”

  “Maybe you didn’t screw him, but you cheated on me just the same. In your heart, and you know what? That’s worse.”

  She could feel his distress. It hurt, knowing she was hurting him. She hoped he didn’t touch her. If he touched her, she feared she’d break into a million fragile pieces. “How is that worse?” she whispered.

  “Pretending to love me when you wanted to be with him.”

  “Beau, I didn’t pretend.”

  “Then if you love me, why are you breaking up with me?” He looked so sad.

  It was her instinct to wrap her arms around him to comfort him. She hated to see people suffer. But she didn’t want him to misinterpret the gesture. “Leave Jesse Calloway out of the equation. You and I, we’re really too much alike to be a good fit.”

  “It took you ten years to realize this?”

  “No, I just kept telling myself it was enough that you were a good person, that you cared about me and I cared about you. But Beau, it isn’t enough. Not for me and not for you. The truth is you deserve someone who is wildly, madly, deeply in love with you. You deserve the woman who would have said yes the first time you asked her to marry you, circumstances and complications be damned.”

  “You’re just upset.”

  “I’m upset with you, yes. But it’s more than that. Why are you willing to settle for something less than you deserve?”

  “I deserve you.”

  “You’re attached to the idea of me.”

  “You’re the one I want.”

  “I’m sorry, Beau, no. It’s over.” Then marshalling every bit of courage she possessed, Flynn turned and walked away.

  For the next couple of days, all over town, Flynn imagined she heard the whispers.

  “I heard she threw over the sheriff for that convict.”

  “You know how women act stupid over bad boys.”

  “Such a fool, Beau treated her like a queen.”

  “I thought Flynn had more sense than that.”

  “Her mother would be so ashamed.”

  That last one hurt the most, even if it was just conjured up by her own mind, because Flynn knew it was true. Her mother would be ashamed of the way she’d behaved. Why had she done it? What was this dark sway Jesse held over her?

  She knew what her mother would say, because she’d heard her say it before. “Jesse Calloway is bad news, Flynn. I don’t want to judge, because heaven knows I’ve made my own mistakes, but his mother died of a drug overdose. No one has any idea who his father was. He ran away from foster homes. No telling what all he’s suffered. The boy’s emotionally damaged. Even his Aunt Patsy admits he’s troubled.”

  “But Mama,” she’d murmured. “You don’t know him like I do. Yes, he’s got a tough outer shell, but that’s just to protect himself. Doesn’t Jesse deserve a chance?”

  “Certainly, but you don’t have to be the one to give it to him.”

  The truth was, Flynn didn’t know if her feelings for Jesse were real or if he was just the catalyst she’d needed to break her engagement to Beau. Maybe her feelings for Jesse were nothing more than a desire to toy with the forbidden. She’d been good for so long, was he merely an excuse to indulge the bad-girl side she’d always struggled to deny? Was she making a big mistake? Was he just using her to humiliate his nemesis, Beau?

  But no, you couldn’t fake a kiss like the one he’d given her on his birthday underneath the Sweetheart Tree. The man wanted her. She had no doubts about that. And she wanted him.

  He’s been in prison for ten years. At this point he’d take a blow-up doll.

  “It’s Jesse,” she murmured to herself. “He’s not like that…he’s…he’s…”

  What? The man who could ruin her reputation in the town that meant so much to her. Flynn was a people person. Being with Jesse could damage her standing in the community. Did she really want to risk everything that was important to her for the promise of great sex?

  He’s more to you than that and you know it.

  Yes, but did Jesse know it? Was he toying with her, or did he want a real relationship? And if he wanted a real relationship, was she up to dealing with the fallout of loving an outlaw?

  Love? Whoa there, Nellie. Aren’t you putting the cart before the horse?

  She agonized over these thoughts as she pushed her grocery cart through Branson’s supermarket. It was after five and the store was crowded with working mothers in their office attire. She rounded the corner by a stacked display of Cheez Doodles, and there, standing beside the meat counter, inspecting a package of filet mignon with an upturned nose, was Kathryn Trainer.

  Instantly Flynn braked, and then whipped her cart around, intent on barreling away toward the dairy section as fast as possible.

  “Flynn,” Kathryn’s voice rang out. “There you are.”

  Oh God, kill me now. Just strike me dead. Go ahead, slam me with lightning. Put me out of my misery.

  “Flynn MacGregor.”

  She halted her sprint for the sour cream, forced a smile on her face, and turned back around. “Kathryn, I didn’t see you there.”

  Flynn suppressed the sudden urge to reach up and feel to see if her nose had just grown an inch. Cringing, she braced herself for whatever onslaught Kathryn was about to heap upon her.

  “Listen dear,” her ex-future-mother-in-law said. She wore an expensive beige linen dress, June Cleaver pearls, and two-inch heels. “I’ve spoken to Father Geyette and he’s very excited about performing the ceremony, but with all his duties on Christmas Day, he won’t be able to officiate the wedding until late Christma
s evening. Will that work for you?”

  “Huh?”

  Kathryn repeated herself and then added, “A young lady of substance doesn’t say, ‘Huh,’ she says, “Pardon.’”

  “Pardon me.”

  Kathryn beamed. “Very good. Now about the time of the wedding—”

  “You haven’t spoken to Beau.” Young ladies of substance probably didn’t interrupt, but come on, let’s be honest, she might be young, but she was no lady, and as far as substance went, well, after the expenses with the Yarn Barn, she had five hundred and sixty-seven dollars in her personal savings account. Not much substance there.

  “He came to dinner last night, why?”

  Oh, this was just great. Beau hadn’t told his mother she’d broken up with him. The coward. Now what was she supposed to do? Tell Kathryn in the middle of the grocery store between the filet mignon and the Cheez Doodles that she’d kicked her son to the curb for acting like a jealous, possessive bully?

  “I think you need to talk to Beau about the wedding.”

  “You’re letting him make all the decisions?”

  Flynn’s throat tightened. She was his mother, let him tell her. “Just talk to Beau.”

  Kathryn reached out and touched Flynn’s arm. “Is there something I need to know?”

  The expression in her eyes was one of pure vulnerability, and it rattled Flynn. She’d never seen the formidable woman look anything but in total control. She opened her mouth to tell her, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. When it came down to it, Flynn hated hurting people. She’d rather hurt herself than someone else.

  Now who’s the coward?

  “Just talk to Beau,” she murmured, then abandoned her shopping cart and scurried for the door.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Flynn, get out and live a little.

  —Missy Ivey, yearbook entry, 1999

  Flustered by what had happened at the supermarket, Flynn returned to the Yarn Barn more mixed up than ever. Things were definitely over between her and Beau. The milk was spilled on that score and she was ready to move forward in her life.

  But what of her and Jesse? Where did they stand? Was she ready to take their relationship to the next level? Was she ready to make it official? The gossiping she’d heard in her head would be minor compared to the real gossip that would come pouring out when their coupling was confirmed.

  She went up to the Yarn Barn through the outside stairs, assiduously avoiding Jesse. She hadn’t talked to him since she’d broken things off with Beau, and she wasn’t ready for that encounter just yet.

  A large rolled-up rug lay in the middle of the floor. Apparently the delivery had arrived in her absence and Jesse had brought it upstairs. She took from her purse the Swiss Army knife that Beau had given her for her birthday and cut away the plastic. She unfurled the oval braided rug and dragged it to the middle of the floor where she planned on positioning the rocking chairs she had on back order. Everything was coming together. She might not be able to keep her promise to her mother that she would marry Beau, but by gum, she was making Lynn’s Yarn Barn happen.

  She got to her feet, admiring her handiwork. She’d made a good choice. The room felt more homey and welcoming, and the neutral colors of the rug enhanced the appeal of the parquet floor she had redone after her mess-up. Her mother would love it.

  “Here it is, Mom.” She sat down tailor-style in the middle of the rug, closed her eyes, and let the moment sweep over her. She didn’t often relax and let go, but she was trying. No one was expecting her at home. Carrie would be at her night class, her father was at Froggy’s. She didn’t have to be anywhere but here. It was an unusual sensation.

  Relax. Just breathe.

  The setting sun was slipping past the window when she felt the back of her neck prickle. She turned her head, and saw Jesse standing at the top of the stairs. His face was healing. The swelling was gone from his eye, but it was still a harsh color of purple, and the cut on his lip was almost closed.

  She’d been so wrapped in savoring her accomplishment that she hadn’t heard him come up. His eyes were on her, his gaze sultry.

  “I’ve locked up for the evening. I was just about to leave,” he said.

  She got to her feet, caught his stare, inhaled it.

  Those eyes.

  They held the power of an electrical storm—sharp and hot. Ten years away had changed him. He’d always been intense, yes, but now there was a quiet wisdom in the back of those blistering eyes. And a sadness that tugged at something deep within her.

  Jesse was her touchstone, she realized with a start. Why and how it came to be, she did not know, but when she looked into those eyes, she felt it.

  He came across the room toward her, agile in his cowboy boots. The way he moved in his black Levi’s—loose-hipped, fluid, self-assured—jiggled her insides, stole her breath. He smiled that rakish grin.

  The sight of him set her heart to singing, stoked her longing. She felt hot and sticky and achy.

  “Flynn,” he said, “is it true?”

  “Is what true?”

  “I heard your broke your engagement to Trainer.”

  “I did.”

  He held his arms open then, just opened them wide. She ran to him unfettered, skipping across the parquet floor covered with the braided rug.

  He swept her into his embrace and spun her around, and time seemed to slow to this one perfect moment when she had it all. The Yarn Barn was official, her father was off the sauce, Carrie was in school, and she was in Jesse’s arms again.

  She heard her heart pounding, felt his beat a corresponding rhythm when she splayed her palm over his chest. She spied a smattering of dark blue paint on his neck. He’d spent the morning painting the front of the building. She planted a kiss on his neck, traveled up to find his earlobe. His familiar scent filled her nostrils, reached down and caressed her lungs.

  Jesse.

  He’d been at the back of her mind for years, even when she thought she’d forgotten about him or had mistaken how she really felt about him, and he about her.

  Be careful, go slow.

  She wasn’t sure how much of this feeling she could stand. It was too strong, too wild, too un-Flynn-like. She was accustomed to being confident and in charge and considerate of other people’s needs. Being with Jesse was like taking that five-thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle you’d spent every night working on for three months and heedlessly tossing it into the air.

  But oh how she wanted him. And that was what scared her most of all. This desire—burning, raging, out of control. She knew for certain this feeling was what she’d been avoiding, why she’d stayed so long with Beau even when it wasn’t fair to him. Beau made her feel stable. Jesse made her feel—real. And she simply didn’t know what to do about it.

  She wanted him, but there were walls between them. Prison walls, and not just the concrete kind. Intangible walls of loss and pain and nervous expectation. He could break her so easily. Split her heart clean in two.

  At that thought, she pulled back, stepped from his embrace. She saw a shadow of something in his eyes. Where do we go from here? Is it time? Is it right? Should we just take a leap of faith and jump? How do we start tearing down these walls? How do we keep from hurting each other? The questions poured in on her, but she did not speak her doubts aloud.

  Jesse was a man of action. Spur-of-the-moment, free as the wind. He didn’t have the restriction of community. The fear of being cast out. Belonging meant more to Flynn than anything in the world. If she gave in to her sexual needs, would the town she loved ostracize her? Would she lose everything?

  Before she had time to reconsider her emotions, he grabbed her arm, pulled her back against his chest, then brought his mouth down on hers in a kiss so firm and hungry she just went limp.

  Whoa. Slow down. Her expectations were so high, she feared the plummet.

  Jesse must have sensed her thoughts, because he cupped his palm under her chin and raised her face up so her e
yes met his. “It’s been a very long time for me, Flynn. I’m not sure if I remember how to do this, the niceties, the tenderness. I’m not sure if I can give you the experience you need.”

  “All I need is to be with you,” she murmured.

  “I’ll try my best, but woman, you are so amazing.” He ran his hands over her body, came to a stop at her waist, and let loose with a deep-throated masculine groan of appreciation.

  “You didn’t, after prison, find someone to be with?”

  “I thought about it,” he admitted.

  “But you didn’t.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I kept thinking no one could compare to you.”

  “Now you’re putting me on a pedestal.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “What if I can’t live up to your expectations?”

  “How about this? No expectations.”

  “You mean, don’t have sex?”

  “That’s what I’m thinking. Let’s just kiss and cuddle and feel each other up like we did when we in high school.”

  “You’d…be okay with that?”

  “Would you?”

  “Sure, sure.”

  “Okay, so just to get this straight, no expectations, no sex unless we change our minds midway.”

  Flynn licked her lips. “Right.”

  “Things get too overwhelming, you just say the word and I’ll stop.”

  “You can do that?” She put a hand on his abdomen just above his belt buckle.

  He swallowed visibly. “I’ll try my damnedest.”

  The dark desire in his eyes rocketed her libido into orbit. “Me too,” she whispered.

  Slowly, Jesse pulled her up flush against his chest.

  “Can you kiss,” she asked, “with your sore lip?”

  “To hell with my sore lip.” He pushed her hair back off her shoulder and sank his mouth down on the side of her neck.

  She felt the tingle all the way to her toes. He remembered her erogenous zone. His hair tickled her throat. His scent filled her nose, her soul. Musky clean and a little painty. He made her feel exposed, raw. He was dangerous. She was vulnerable. She was afraid of it, this vulnerability. She was accustomed to being strong, in control, in charge. With one well-placed kiss, he took it all away.