LAST CHANCE KNIT & STITCH
by Hope Ramsay
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Blurb:
Simon Wolfe returns to quickly settle his father's estate and then leave Last Chance for good. Still wounded by a broken heart, Simon is surprised when the town's charming streets and gentle spirit bring back good memories. Soon the beautiful, strong-willed Molly sparks a powerful attraction that tempts him to break his iron-clad no-commitment rule. Can Simon and Molly find a way to share work space-and build a future together in Last Chance?
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Excerpt:
She peeked at his sketch. “Oh, my God. Please tell me my butt is not that big.”
It amused him to think that Molly, who seemed not to care at all about how she dressed, was still woman enough to worry about the size of her butt. “It’s not big. It’s perfect.” His heart stalled the moment the words left his mouth.
“Perfect? Get real. I swear, Simon, if you paint a picture of me from the rear I will never forgive you.”
“I’m sure it’s just your baggy pants,” he muttered, putting his pencils away.
“You think my pants are baggy?”
He ground his teeth together, his mood suddenly sinking. There was no way to make her happy. He’d watched his father have the same ridiculous conversations with Mother. And over the years, he’d had his own impossible conversations with the women in his life. They never liked the way he told the truth.
He turned the conversation. “I’m getting hungry. You said something about the Pig Place and a beer?” He had become a master at the pivot.
“You’re changing the subject, aren’t you?”
“Yup,” he said, as he started putting his sketchbook and pencils into his fi eld backpack.
“Okay, you’re right. My pants are kind of baggy,” she said in a little voice. “But that makes them really comfortable.”
“It’s okay, Molly. I didn’t mean to—”
“But in any case, I don’t want anyone recording me or my butt for posterity, or posterior as the case might be. It kind of creeps me out.”
Her shoulders slumped, and she gave him a woeful look that he might have mistaken for a female pout. But on Molly, that sad- adorable look touched something deep inside him. “Why does it creep you out?”
“Because I’m not pretty. I don’t have a great body. And I’m not particularly photogenic. Or in this case, sketch-o-genic. The idea of people looking at some image of me and making fun is just creepy.”
This admission stunned him. “But you’re beautiful. One day I’d love to paint you without—” He stopped speaking. This was the kind of talk Coach would frown upon. He’d been thinking with his heart again.
She gave him her squinty- eyed look. “You’d like to paint me without . . . what?” She stared at him for a long moment as the truth settled in. “Without my clothes? Oh, my God. You want to paint me naked?” She got up and stalked away toward her fishing gear. She was visibly upset.
And he wasn’t exactly sure what to do about it. If he told her he was only joking, it would underscore her own self- doubts. If he told her the truth, he’d be breaking his word to Coach. But someone needed to tell Molly that she was stunning.
So he prayed that Coach would forgive him for telling Molly the God’s honest truth. “You’d be lovely. Backside and all,” he said.
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