Last Chance Knit & Stitch Read Online Free

to wrestle with it. She really needed to whack it off.
    Simon’s gaze dropped and lingered for more than a moment. Holy crap, he was ogling her boobs.
    A totally unwanted body flush knocked her sideways. Whoa. What was that all about?
    Guys in Last Chance never ogled her. She wasn’t pretty or graceful or anything like that. So of course, guys talked cars and sports with her rather than looking or touching or making themselves nuisances. Over the years, she’d had a couple of friends with benefits. But they were just bed buddies. And besides, she wasn’t interested in girl-boy entanglements. They were a big waste of time and always managed to get messy and emotional.
    She needed to put distance between herself and thisguy who was old enough to be a member of the 1990 dream team. Which made him practically middle-aged.
    “Uh, look,” she said in a no-nonsense voice, “there’s something I need to tell you. See, your daddy loaned me some space in his garage, where I’ve just started working on a full body restoration of a 1966 Shelby Mustang that I found in a barn up in Olar. I work there after hours, and I’m aiming to get the car finished by September for the Barrett-Jackson auction in Vegas. I’m hoping to hit pay dirt with this car so I can quit working for LeRoy and start a restoration business of my own. So, anyway, when you get around to taking a tour of the dealership, I just want you to understand that the Shelby belongs to me and my partner, Les Hayes, who’s your daddy’s chief mechanic. Don’t be thinking that that car is one of your assets. Oh, and I have a set of keys to the building. So don’t freak out if you see me there late at night, okay?”
    The curls at the corner of Simon’s mouth deepened into a semi-smile, which looked a bit incongruous given the state of his eyes. “I’m not planning to take a tour of the dealership,” he said. “And I’m not all that interested in cars.”
    “Not even a Shelby Mustang?” Her incredulity showed in her voice.
    “Not even a Shelby Mustang. My plan is to wrap up things here just as fast as I can and head back home. I think you should plan on the dealership being closed or sold.”
    “You’re going to close the dealership?”
    The muted conversations in the room halted, and a dozen heads turned in their direction. Oh, crap, she’d practically shouted the words, hadn’t she?
    “Uh, sorry,” she said in a much smaller voice, even though she felt like screaming her outrage at the sudden reversals in her life. “But you can’t let that happen.”
    “There’s nothing I can do to prevent it.”
    “But I’ll lose my garage space. Not to mention the fact that half of my friends own F-150s and go to Wolfe for their warranty service.”
    “What do you expect me to do, Molly? I’m an artist, not a car salesman or mechanic. I have no business running a car dealership.”
    Well, that was obvious. She just hadn’t put all the puzzle pieces together until right this minute. Of course Ira’s death was going to screw up everything.
    “But what are you going to do with your momma?” She was grasping at straws now. This was the man who’d run away from home and never come back. Not once. Not even at Thanksgiving or Christmas.
    “I don’t know. But I do know I’m not staying, and I’m not going to take over Daddy’s dealership. I’m not a car guy.”
    “Which makes you really odd for a man, you know that?”
    Annoyance sparked in his dark eyes, and Molly immediately regretted the rancor in her words. Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut? Or learn how to deliver a put-down with a saccharine voice, like a southern belle. Unfortunately, she was missing the Scarlett O’Hara gene.
    “I’m not the only odd one here,” he said. “I’m willing to bet you don’t know how to sew or knit or cook.”
    “Ha! I do so too know how to knit.”
    “Oh?” He frowned, his dark gaze cataloging her. “Don’t tell me. You knitted that sweater, didn’t