Summer on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #6)(39)

“Great idea,” Phoebe said. “You work there, right?”

“Sure do. I’m part of the morning staff. I do the baking.”

“So you’re the one responsible for those wonderful pastries,”

Phoebe commented. “I stopped by the other day and picked up a half-dozen for the clinic. They were fabulous.”

“I can’t take all the credit,” Alix said.

“Yes, you can,” Lydia cut in. “I’ve seen and tasted Alix’s handiwork.”

“Me, too,” Margaret agreed. “You see this extra fat on my hips?

Blame Alix.”

“Hey, you’re the one who chose to eat those Danishes and croissants,” Alix reminded her.

“I second that,” Hutch added, remembering the lawsuit hanging over his head. It wasn’t just the candy business that could be jeopardized by this lawsuit. If he lost, bakeries would be prime candidates, too. And restaurants. No telling where this craziness would end.

“All right, all right.” Margaret sighed. “I deserve every ounce of this extra weight.”

Hutch grinned, then caught Phoebe watching him. She smiled back. He felt a sensation of warmth. Of happiness—and comfort. Maybe he hadn’t seemed as big an idiot as he’d thought.

“Shall we walk over to the French Café after class?” she asked.

“Sure.” If she’d suggested they have coffee in Costa Rica, he would’ve found a way to get there. Walking across the street was no problem—if he didn’t do something stupid like throw himself in front of a bus.

The Knit to Quit class ended a few minutes before eight. Alix had been especially quiet most of the evening. Hutch liked her and her husband, too, who came to pick her up again. Apparently Jordan worked late the evenings Alix was at A Good Yarn, which meant they could drive home together. Phoebe stood and gathered her things. Hutch did, too.

“Good night, you two,” Lydia said as they walked toward the front door.

“Night,” Hutch echoed.

“See you next week,” Phoebe said, looking over her shoulder. Lydia waved them off. As they closed the door, Hutch happened to hear Margaret speculating on a romance between him and Phoebe. For an instant he was tempted to stop and listen, wondering how they viewed his chances.

Once outside, Hutch threw his briefcase into his car. He’d been lucky enough to f ind a parking place almost directly in front of A Good Yarn—maybe that was a sign. Phoebe waited and then they hurried across the street.

The French Café was brightly lit and there were a number of couples scattered around the restaurant, eating a late dinner or sipping coffee.

“What would you like?” Hutch asked as they approached the counter.

“Just black coffee,” she replied.

“Why don’t you choose a table and I’ll go get our coffees.”

She nodded and he watched as she selected a quiet place in the back of the restaurant. After ordering and paying for their drinks, he carried both mugs to the table.

Now that he was alone with Phoebe, he found himself at a loss. He tried to recall his college days, but everything had been so easy back then. So natural and effortless. He used to see himself as witty and social—something he could hardly believe now.

“So,” he began. “Tell me about yourself.”

Phoebe brushed the hair from her face, which he’d noticed was a habit of hers. More than once he’d been tempted to reach out and do it for her, which would’ve been inappropriate to put it mildly. He clasped his hands in his lap.

“Well…I think I already mentioned I’m a physical therapist.”

He nodded. “You told us that during our f irst class.”

“What about you?” she asked.

Obviously what he’d said about himself wasn’t memorable. “I work for a family-owned business,” he told her.

“Oh, yes. I remember that now.”

He’d made a point of not referring to Mount Rainier Chocolates by name. The company was well-known in the area, and the moment people learned about his connection, they bombarded him with questions—always the same ones. He was tired of answering them, tired of all the silly jokes and sly remarks. Besides, there was more to him than his job.

“You took the class to relax, isn’t that what you said? And because of your thumb.”

“Yeah.” He raised his hand and waggled his thumb, feeling a twinge of pain.

“Have you had physical therapy?” she asked. He shook his head. Physical therapy took time he couldn’t spare; not only that, his injury wasn’t serious, despite its slowness in healing.

“There are various exercises you can do to regain dexterity,” she said.

“You mean other than knitting armor?” he joked. Phoebe smiled again and it seemed the entire room grew a little brighter.

The conversation went well from that point forward. Phoebe was easy to talk to, her own comments interesting and animated. If the conversation lagged she picked it up. Still, Hutch felt he needed to say something about her f iancé. He might as well do it now. Get it over with, if that wasn’t too crass a description.

“I know how diff icult this time is for you,” he said solemnly when a discussion of recent movies had run its course. Her gaze shot to his. “You do?”