Hooked On You

Connor almost jumped out of his skin. For a guy who stood six-foot-four, he’d always been easy to startle, a personality flaw many of his co-workers exploited with great glee. Forcing himself to take a breath and peel his shoulders down from around his ears, Connor turned to the guy who had appeared at his side. Still, his surprise must have shown because the guy’s face immediately scrunched up in a wince.

“I’m so sorry,” he said to Connor. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“You’re fine,” Connor murmured, blinking rapidly as the guy’s lips quirked into a smile.

Oh, crap. Fine was an understatement.

This guy was nothing at all like the caftan-wearing ladies Connor had imagined working in this store. Mr. Hook Me was maybe five years younger than Connor’s thirty-two, with striking gray-green eyes and a Pride pin attached to the collar of his black shirt. He’d been behind the counter when Connor had walked in and Connor’s attention had been on the yarn. No chance of ignoring the guy now that they stood only a foot or two apart, however, especially with Mr. Hook Me smiling at him. Connor was abruptly glad he’d exchanged his Boston EMS uniform shirt and jacket for street clothes before leaving the station.

Wait, what? What difference did it make what Connor wore?

“I noticed you’d been standing here for a while,” the guy said, then gestured toward the wall of cubbies. “I thought I’d check in, make sure you were finding everything you need.”

“Thanks.” Connor pushed his hair back over his shoulder, his cheeks on fire as he caught himself staring. He hoped his beard hid at least some of his blush. This guy looked like a film actor for crying out loud, all slim and sleek, his form graceful compared to Connor’s meaty body. Not that Connor should be thinking about Mr. Hook Me’s body. Or any man’s. Except he was. And why?

Ugh.

Shifting his focus back to the wall of cubbies, Connor cleared his throat. “I’m, um, honestly not sure what I need.”

“Is that why you were talking to yourself?”

“Say what now?”

Mr. Hook Me’s smile grew a little wider when Connor glanced back, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “You said ‘Where the hell do I start?’ A question I hear often, by the way. People talk to themselves all the time in this store. I suspect it’s a knitter thing.”

“Oh, I’m not a knitter,” Connor said. He looked away again, his face blazing hotter. He was making himself sound awfully stupid. Not to mention talking out loud to no one in a public place. “Or at least not yet. I wasn’t kidding when I said I have no idea what I need, though. I’ve never even held a pair of knitting hooks.”

“They’re called needles,” Mr. Hook Me replied, his tone easy. “A hook is what you’d use for crochet, which is different from knitting entirely.” An encouraging expression crossed his face when Connor met his gaze. “Or maybe that’s what you want to do instead?”

“I’m … not sure.”

With a shake of his head, Connor glanced at the door. He could leave. Call this outing what it was—a mess—and go home and fix himself a sandwich for dinner. He’d only come in here because his coworker Olivia was convinced that a hobby would help wrangle some of Connor’s anxiety. He could find a different yarn shop. Maybe do some googling before he ventured in, and hope it was staffed with safe, caftan-wearing ladies who didn’t make Connor’s insides go both tight and melty when they smiled.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mr. Hook Me said, his voice soothing. He cocked his head at Connor. “Can I ask what brought you in here tonight? That might help me understand what you’re looking to do.”

Connor gave a terse nod. “Right. Well, like I said, I’ve never knit or done crochet before, so I guess I’m more looking to get started than anything else.”

“That makes sense.” The guy’s forehead puckered, and a thoughtful air came over him. “Is there a project you’re looking to work toward once you understand stitches and the mechanics of needlework?”

“Yeah, actually. How did you know?”

“Lucky guess. A lot of people have an idea in mind when they decide they want to learn to knit, be it a scarf or socks, or even a winter hat.”

“I want to knit a baby blanket,” Connor blurted. He drew a rectangle in the air with his index fingers, then almost rolled his eyes at himself—what the hell was wrong with him tonight? “I’m not really sure what size would be best, though.”

“No problem. We’ve got books of patterns that could be of help if you’d like to look through them.” Mr. Hook Me tipped his head in the direction of the counter.

“That’d be great, thanks.”

“Of course. Knowing what you’ll need to create your final project may help me too, so I can direct you to the right yarn or recommend specific stitches. I also have plenty of suggestions about how to get started with the learning part. Oh, man.” Bowing his head slightly, Mr. Hook Me set a hand over his heart. “I’m being super rude. I’m Judah and this is my place.”

“Nice to meet you, Judah.” Connor shook the hand Judah extended. This guy was something. Confident but genuine, too, and so good at not making Connor feel like a big oaf. “My name’s Connor. I’ll take any advice you can give me on the learning and the blanket and whatever else I might need to know about knitting. Or crochet. Hah.” He huffed out a breath. “I’m sure I sound like a complete dope wandering in with zero idea of what I’m doing.”

Judah gave a soft chuckle. “Not at all. People walk in here all the time with an idea of what they’d like to make and no concrete knowledge of what it will take to get there. It was a daily occurrence in the run up to Hanukkah and Christmas! That’s where I come in.” He gestured Connor toward the counter. “How about we get started with the patterns and go from there?”