KNOCK OUT [LH]

Chapter 13: Knitting Club

"Luke, honey, over here!"

"Oh, Luke, do you mind taking a look at this stitch?"

"Luke. Luke! LUKE!"

The second Luke Hemmings waltzed into the room a few hours ago, the elderly women couldn't get enough of him--all speedily knitting away while they stared at the lean boxer, giggling like silly school girls whenever he looked in their general direction, or let alone spoke to them.

Luke was being tugged in every direction, not getting a second to himself to sit down and knit, because the old women craftily feigned to be struggling with their own yarn and needles--a sick act that I saw right through, just so he would assist them. And Luke did just that, the same warm smile spread across his flawless face as he did so, totally oblivious to the fact that all of these women were in fact ultra-master knitters, preying on his youth.

To put it plainly, these old ladies had the hots for Luke Hemmings, and he hadn't the slightest clue; which was nothing short of vomit inducing.

Was I jealous that these grannies were getting more action and attention from the boxer than I had received over the past couple of weeks?

Pfft, definitely not...

Was I upset that the boxer hadn't acknowledged me since we entered the room, even though it was more than clear that my knitting was a complete disaster, probability needing the most assistance?

Definitely.

"Oh honey, that's all wrong."

Looking up from the knotted mess of yarn in my lap, one of the elderly women I've come to know as Ethel, stared down at my poor attempt of a scarf, a genuine look of concern etched across her sweet wrinkled face.

"Considering I've never knitted before, I think I'm doing fairly well." I shrug, making Ethel chuckle as she takes a seat next to me, fingers quickly working on her own perfect row of stitches that clearly formed the beginnings of a turtleneck sweater.

"Is that why you're using three needles?" She asks, raising a brow, and my eyes flicker back down to the knotted red yarn and three silver knitting needles tangled inside, sticking out at odd angles.

"Thought I'd just jump right into expert level." I genuinely explain, attempting to detangle all ten fingers from the yarn. "You know, speed up the tedious process, since one of my biggest character flaws is a lack of patience."

Ethel blinks at me for a moment, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes as she shakes her head at me.

"You're a funny one, Winifred." She chuckles and leans in to nudge her shoulder with mine, but I can't help my nose scrunching up at the sound of my full name.

Of course Luke had to introduce me earlier to the elderly women as Winifred, and since my jaw was still practically to the floor as I tried to process Luke's activities at the Summer Crest nursing home, I just couldn't find it in me to correct him--especially with the chorus of the very strained greeting that followed. It was easy to read the room, and it seemed like the knitting club was nothing short of irritated by my unexpected presence. Ethel however appeared to be the only exception, going out of her way to kindly chat with me.

"It's a natural gift." I say with a small smile. "And you can just call me Winnie. Winifred sounds like an old-"

I swallow the rest of my sentence before I can finish it, as to not offend anyone, but Ethel's lips curl into a knowing smile.

"Winifred sounds like an old lady name." Ethel finishes, making my cheeks flush slightly as I nod and she chuckles. "I get it, Winnie. My name is literally Ethel. I mean, how stereotypical can it get for an old woman—you'd think the author would have tried a bit harder to make it more original." She jokes, making me laugh.