Claws & Crochet

Part 8

ZOEY

This trip is for me and me alone.

Firmly resolved not to fall for the helpful biker, I turn to wave him goodnight, only to find him a step behind me.

"What are you doing?" The question comes out more abrupt than I mean it to. But abrupt is my default setting.

Warner doesn't seem to mind as he gifts me with a cheeky grin. "You're so determined to get to this Sip and Sew thing, no way can I leave without checking it out."

"Sip 'N Stitch," I correct. Then wait, staring at him.

"Sip 'N Stitch." He amends, giving what I expect is supposed to be a humble nod. The affect is ruined by his twitching lips.

It would be easier to be annoyed with him if he wasn't the perfect combination of sexy and adorable.

"All right. You can come in. But don't embarrass me, biker boy. This is my only shot to make a first impression, and I'm already late."

"Sure thing, mystery girl." Warner steps forward, placing his hand on my lower back as if he plans on guiding me into the bar. But the position strikes me as too much like the couple that I just saw leave, and I don't need to give anyone, including myself, ideas. I speed my steps up until his hand falls away.

"How am I mystery girl if you know my name?" I pass through the door, holding it open long enough for him to catch the edge.

"A name is barely anything. There's a lot more I plan on learning."

"Well, I'm not holding lessons."

"I'll learn on the job."

"Glad to know you think spending time with me is work."

That gets him. He booms out a laugh that luckily fits in with this vibrant, crowded restaurant. The cheerful sound makes me want to join in, but I shove away the urge. For some reason, I get the sense that Warner is the one used to making people laugh, and I've somehow accomplished something by charming the comedian.

I make my way to the bar, leaning on it to get a bartender's attention as I take in the many framed rabbit pictures hanging haphazardly between bottles of alcohol. There's even a chalkboard with a list of Cottontail Cocktails.

Yeah, this place is very different than The Rabbit Hole.

A second away from ordering an Easter Bunny Bourbon, I stop myself.

Your limit is one.

Instead, I ask for a soda water with lime. As my drink is poured, Warner settles at my side.

"I think we've found your group." At his subtle nod, I glance toward the back corner.

Bingo.

A gathering of about eight women sits chatting and drinking around a table situated under a portrait of The Velveteen Rabbit. Each one holds a fabric craft. Their ages look to range from twenties to fifties, which also makes me giddy. A lot of times these types of groups are made up of only women my mom's age, and I feel like the inexperienced baby of the club.

"Good eye. Thanks for the ride, Warner." I slide cash to the barman as he sets down my glass. "His drink is on me."

The biker raises his eyebrows as I toast him before navigating the crowd to the group I've been struggling to find all night. A couple of the women notice my approach and offer curious smiles.

Please don't be annoyed that I'm late.

Once I'm on the perimeter, their conversations trickle off as each one studies me.

"Hello. I'm so sorry I'm late. I'm new to town, and misread the flyer, and ended up at the wrong place. Is it a problem if I join you all?" To prove my legitimacy, I reach into my bag, pulling out my half-finished hat.

I get a few more smiles, and one woman leans forward. "Of course, you can join us. May I ask your name?"

"I'm Zoey. Zoey Gunner."

There's some murmuring from the group as eyes trace over my face.

"I'm Amy Spencer," the woman offers with a warm smile that creases her tan cheeks. "You wouldn't be related to Minnie Gunner, would you?"

"She was my grandmother."

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Amy says. "You look so much like your mother. Is Selena in town with you?"

I shake my head. "Just me. I'm cleaning out Minnie's cabin so we can put it up for sale."

Amy nods with another, sadder smile. The other women start offering their names. They're about halfway around the circle when I notice the welcoming smiles dropping from some of the faces. By time we reach the last in the group, I'd say a third have changed their attitudes toward me.

I can't fathom why, until—

"And I'm Warner!"

At the sound of his jolly proclamation, I realize the biker didn't stay back at the bar. He stands directly behind me.

Author Note:  I think now might be a good time to tell you that when Warner is around Zoey, he basically turns into a big golden retriever lol