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She chortled, and I sketched a quick salute, knowing better than to argue about which was which with a woman who could be my mother.

We set out our beanies and pot holders, the moved on to display the shawls and more elaborate cowls and blankets. The rainbow hats I’d made with the big pom poms on top were still my favorite. Colorful and cheerful, working on them always made me feel optimistic. Traffic to our booth was slow and steady throughout the morning, and I couldn’t help but keep glancing at my phone, anxious for Andi to join me. Not specifying a time had been a rookie mistake. It left me stuck in anticipation mode, her arrival imminent, but just out of reach.

“You’re making me nervous,” Jeannie finally complained. “Go get me a cup of coffee or something and walk off some of your energy.”

“Sure, Jeannie. Black?”

“Like my soul,” she cackled.

I shook my head indulgently. Yes. Because dark individuals volunteered their time and talent to knit projects for charity. I stood in line and bought a cup for her at a booth a few tables down, and darn if she didn’t have me half-convinced she was actually a witch when I returned to find Andi standing at our booth.

My smile brightened as I caught her hesitant expression. I had reason to be nervous. There were a thousand ways I could screw this up. Probably already had. But Andi? She had nothing to be concerned about. She was beautiful. Sexy. Clad in casual jeans and a bright orange sweater, she looked like what I’d come to think of her as—sunshine. Bright and bold, sometimes shining light in uncomfortable places, but always with a warmth that came through in everything she did.

“Thanks for coming,” I rumbled softly through the sudden obstruction in my throat. “Let me drop this off for Jeannie, then I can show you around.” I turned, Jeannie’s watchful gaze taking in everything about me and Andi. “Your coffee, milady.”

Jeannie flicked a hand at me. “Oh, get on with you. Show Andi all the best spots at the market.” She winked. “It’s too bad there aren’t any dark hallways to explore.”

I flushed, casting a quick glance at Andi to see if she’d picked up on Jeannie’s meaning. Judging from her pink cheeks, she had an idea what the older woman was referring to. It was our own fault. Cuddling in plain sight of our teammates should have had predictable consequences, i.e., not flying under the radar, even for a moment.

Pushing aside any remnants of embarrassment, I grabbed Andi’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze as I responded to Jeannie, “You’re just jealous.”

“Damn right.” She saluted me with her cup. “Now, go. Have fun. I’ll still be here when you’re all done.”

With those parting words, Andi sketched a quick wave to the other woman, and we turned to explore the other booths. Andi was uncharacteristically silent, and I kept sliding glances her way, trying to guess what was going on in her head.

“Everything okay?” I asked. “It’s not a big deal if the Knit Wits know we’re seeing each other. I have no plans to hide our relationship.”

Her shy smile warmed my heart, unlocking the lingering bit of tension there. While my grip on her hand was loose and easy to pull away from, her hand stayed warm and sure in mine.

“I feel foolish for not realizing we’d have a hard time keeping this on the down-low.”

“Why would we want to?” I asked. Was she ashamed of me? Of us? Kissing wasn’t anything scandalous. I glanced again at our joined hands. Did she already have regrets?

“The court case?” she reminded gently.

Right. Dating could mess up the trial. Our civic duty, blah, blah, blah. I’d pitched today as a simple meet up, a casual date. I had to get us back on that footing. It was too early to scare her off. And I had an obligation to my fellow jurors not to screw up.

I cleared my throat. “Sure, court. Cue change of subject.” I gestured to the booth of local raw honey in front of us. “Joe’s has the best honey in the state.”

“Are you an expert? Have you tasted all the honey in the state?”

Her teasing question shouldn’t have provoked the dirty desires that flared in me. I’d like to tasteherhoney. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I resisted.

Casual. C-A-S-U-A-L. See, I could still spell. Maybe I hadn’t been totally addled watching her lips form the word “honey” and asking after my expertise.

I cleared my throat, wondering how close to the line I could tiptoe without going over it. “I do love honey,” I said injecting as much suggestion as I could into the words. “But I haven’t had the time to taste everything I want to. Good things take time, and I’m willing to wait.”

Andi bit one rosy lip, and I nearly groaned. She wasn’t making it easy to hold back.

Her expression turned mischievous as she tracked my focus on her lip. “Not me, I’m like a kid. Dessert first.”

I ignored the hoarse quality to my voice, pretending nothing was wrong, that her words didn’t make me want to spontaneously combust, as I said, “Let’s go check out the Ramirez Farm. They have really …”Don’t say anything dirty. Don’t say anything dirty. “firm fennel,” I choked out.

“Yeah?” She let a small smile tilt her lips. “You going to cook for me? Make me something mouthwatering?”

“I’d love to cook for you.” Was what I said, holding back the more honest response.I’d love to make you wet. Mouth. Pussy. You make my mouth water.

“I’ll have to take you up on that sometime.” Andi had no idea how her words stoked my fantasies, though maybe the heat in my gaze tipped her off. “Especially if you’re making something tasty.”