She was quite skilled at it, but I’d spent more time untangling the yarn than actually getting it around the needle point. I held up my project. “It looks more like a spider web than a scarf.” Finley’s phone had buzzed several times during our knitting session, and each time she’d looked at it and then put it back down. “You’re a popular girl this morning,” I said. “It’s Max. He wants me to call him. He says he’s worried about me.” I lowered my yarn disaster into my lap. “So call him. You know how many guys out there take the time to worry about anyone but themselves?” “Three maybe four?” Finley laughed. “That’s being generous. Call him.” “I will. When you go on your ride with Jude.” She looked slyly up at me. “Oh, he asked you already?”
