Dakota Love (22 page)

Satisfied that all the machines were on and in working order, Mark slipped his stocky frame onto the corner of the table closest to her and swung his legs. “I see. Do you know how to sew?”

Sarah dipped her head. She’d signed up for the class to give her a reason to be in the store. She’d been so focused on the feeling that bubbled inside her whenever she was around Mark that she hadn’t considered needing or knowing how to use a sewing machine.

“No.” She lifted her eyes like a child asking forgiveness. “Do I need to know how to sew before I can quilt?”

Mark laughed. “I think it would help, but Caroline used to teach home economics back in the day, so it shouldn’t be a problem. If Caroline gives you quilting homework or you want to practice, feel free to come into the shop and use one of these.”

“How sweet of you!” Relief that she could stay enrolled in the class infused Sarah’s response, revealing a little more enthusiasm than she’d intended.

A deep crimson colored Mark’s light complexion, but his eyes sparkled as he grinned.

“I me–meant to say that was nice of you.” The warmth of Sarah’s cheeks was an indicator that her face mirrored Mark’s.

“I hope you take me up on the offer.” Mark’s complexion regained some of its normal color as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “If you don’t know how to sew, what prompted you to sign up for a quilting class?”

“Well…” Sarah stopped. Although she didn’t agree with people who tried to hide their MS, she was tired of being pitied, so she phrased her response without making a reference to her disease. “I decided that I needed to fill some free time. I noticed all the beautiful quilts on display in your shop and thought quilting might be a good hobby. Then you offered evening classes, so I thought I’d give it a try.”

Plus you make me feel special
. Thank goodness that thought stayed in her head. Sarah fought the urge to fan the intense blush from her cheeks.

“I think you’ll enjoy it. Job’s Tears is a fairly easy quilt block, so you shouldn’t get too frustrated with it.”

“Can I hold you to that statement?” A storm cloud of doubts threatened Sarah’s plan. Would she really be able to stay in the class if she knew nothing about sewing? Seeing Mark wasn’t the only issue; without the class, how would she fill her free time? Guess it was a good thing that she waited until the last minute to purchase her supplies.

Sarah rested her hands on the rippled seersucker fabric of her crop pants. “Some of the quilts you have on display are so intricate. I can’t imagine making one of those.”

“Depending on the quilt size, block detail, and quilted stitch pattern, some quilters log hundreds of hours on a quilt.”

“Wow.” Sarah shook her head in disbelief. “I had no idea.”

“It really is an art form.”

Sarah nodded in agreement. A few silent moments passed. She tried to think of something else to say.

The deep breath Mark drew broke the quiet in the room. He rubbed his hands down his khaki pants.

Sarah noted Mark’s body language.
Is he nervous, too?

“I could show you how to work the sewing machine.”

“You know how to sew?” Sarah’s astonishment coaxed a chuckle from Mark.

“Just enough to demonstrate the sewing machines I sell.” He slipped from the table and patted the seat of a folding chair in front of one of the machines. “But knowing how to work the machine might give you a step up in class.”

“Really, you don’t have to do this, I’m sure you have work to do.” Although she hoped if he did that it could wait until class started.

“Nothing that can’t wait until later.” The legs of a folding chair squeaked across the tile floor as Mark pulled a second one over to the machine and sat down. He patted the seat of the empty chair.

Sarah’s hands trembled and not from a tremor brought on by her MS. She arose from the office chair then hooked her fingers behind her back, hoping to conceal her nervousness as she walked over to sit beside Mark. Once seated, she clasped her clammy palms together and rested them in her lap.

Mark slid his chair closer to hers. “I’ll show you the basics. Now these machines are older models and very simplistic.” Mark reached in front of her and flipped a toggle switch. The light on the machine turned off. “Obviously, this is the on/off switch.” Mark flicked it, and the base of the machine glowed with light.

He leaned back just a little. “Back here is the lever to raise and lower the presser foot, which holds the fabric together while you sew.” The metal piece that surrounded a needle moved up and down.

As Mark pointed to a broken-line symbol on the machine, Sarah tried to concentrate on what he was saying and demonstrating, but their close proximity goosefleshed her skin. The hint of pine she inhaled with each of his movements fogged her mind, making it difficult to process his instructions.

“Now you try.” Mark switched off the sewing machine’s power and scooted back on his chair. He folded his arms over his chest. “Turn the machine on.”

Aware of her rapid breathing, she inhaled deeply then reached up and flicked the O
N
switch.

“Choose the stitch option.”

Sarah stared at the panel filled with colorful stitch symbols. What had he said the standard stitch was? Straight? She thought it was the single broken line. She wrinkled her nose, closed one eye, and turned a knob until an arrow pointed at that symbol.

“Right. You’re an excellent student. Now lift the presser foot.”

The position of that piece on the sewing machine made it hard to see from the front. Sarah reached her left hand behind the machine and ran her fingers up and down the slender area of plastic. “All I feel is a screw of some type.” She tried to peer through the opening of the machine.

“It’s at the bottom of the arm.” Mark reached up and put his hand over hers. His palm cupped her knuckles as he rested his long fingers over hers. The softness of his skin surprised her as he guided her fingers down the back of the sewing machine arm.

“Feel that?”

Nervous emotion clogged Sarah’s throat. She nodded her response when Mark applied gentle pressure with his fingers as he escorted hers down a break in the plastic.

“That’s the lever’s track.”

He continued the slow descent of their fingers to the bottom of the plastic cover. Sarah felt the blunt end of the lever tucked close to the bottom.

Sarah cleared her throat. “There it is.” She stole a quick glance at Mark then swallowed hard to clear from her throat the giggle of happiness that his touch inspired. “I thought it was higher.”

“I could tell.” Mark removed his hand from hers. “Go ahead and lift up the presser foot.”

Sarah raised the lever up with one finger. The presser foot rose to its upright position. She pulled her hands back to her lap and laced her fingers together, an attempt at composure. Her hands had trembled before, but now she was afraid of full-fledged shakes. She didn’t want Mark to see how his touch affected her.

“Want to try sewing a seam?” Mark reached for some material that lay in the center of the table.

The door buzzer echoed through the store before Sarah had a chance to answer.

“Excuse me.” Mark stood and walked from the room.

Fear wrestled with relief inside Sarah. If that was a customer, Mark wouldn’t be back, and she’d lost her chance to spend more time alone with him tonight. Sarah had only felt attraction this immediate and strong one other time. She needed to get a grip on her racing pulse and come up with conversation topics. She couldn’t let desire rule her heart and head again. She wanted to know Mark, not just be attracted to him.

Muffled laughter drifted through the workroom door. Sarah wished the room had a window in the wall, like the one in the short wall that separated the darkened office from the workroom. The laughter grew louder as Caroline Baker entered the room. She smiled over her shoulder at the tall man who followed her, laden with shopping bags. Caroline pointed, and he entered the office.

“Hi.” Caroline smiled at Sarah.

Sarah stood up and walked toward Caroline. She extended her hand. “I don’t know if you remember me—”

“Sarah Buckley.” Caroline squeezed Sarah’s extended hand. “Of course, I remember meeting you, here at the store earlier this year. You were wavering on whether you should enroll in my quilting class. I’m glad you decided to sign up, and I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

The tall, handsome gentleman came into the room and handed Caroline a canvas tote bag.

“I don’t think you met my fiancé, Rodney Harris. Rodney, this is Sarah Buckley.”

“Nice to meet you.” Rodney grasped her hand, his rough, dry skin a contrast to Mark’s soft touch.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“Right this way.” Mark stepped aside when he reached the doorframe. A teenage girl and an older gentleman entered the room.

“I believe this is my cue to leave.” Rodney pecked a kiss on Caroline’s check. “See you at eight-thirty.”

The door buzzer beckoned Mark back out to the main store.

“Have fun.” Rodney waved to the quilters as he followed Mark through the door.

Sarah tried to focus on introductions and small talk, but every few seconds she glanced toward the door, hoping to catch another glimpse of Mark.

Mark led two more ladies into the room. “Your class is complete.”

Sarah’s steady pulse quickened when he glanced her way before he turned back to Caroline.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he said as he closed the door of the workroom.

Sarah wished that she could have talked to Karla about this. She’d never had much luck with relationships, but she thought Mark seemed as interested in her as she was in him.

But she’d been wrong about that before.

Like a needle inserted through fabric, dread pierced Mark’s heart as he walked to the cutting counter in the center of the store. He thought he had at least six weeks to get to know Sarah better. Since Sarah lacked sewing skills she might not stick out the quilting class.

Mark unrolled the last bit of fabric from a bolt. He measured the piece of material, cut it, and folded it into a fat-quarter square. If she quit the class would she still come to the store? Probably not since she didn’t know how to sew. It made his day whenever her petite frame graced his quilt shop. She’d thought he was sweet to offer the use of one of the sewing machines. Would she think so if she knew he had an ulterior motive?

Mark looked up from his work when he heard the door.

“Here’s your coffee.” Rodney handed him a paper cup from the franchise down the block.

“Thank you for offering to bring me a cup. What do I owe you?” Mark reached into his front pocket for his money clip.

“My treat.” Rodney sipped at a lime-colored cold drink.

“Is that green tea?” Mark grimaced and exaggerated a shiver.

Rodney chuckled at Mark’s antics. “It is. It’s good for you. Want to try a sip?” Rodney waved his cup close to Mark.

Mark smiled. “I’ll pass and stick to the hard stuff. Thanks for taking the quilts to the back room.”

“It’s the least I could do. You looked pretty peaked when Caroline and I arrived. I thought you might be feverish. Your face was flushed. But then when I went into the workroom, I knew why.” Rodney winked at Mark.

The heat worked its way back up Mark’s neck and onto his cheeks as he remembered the silkiness of Sarah’s ivory skin as he cupped his hand around her delicate fingers. He shrugged and sipped his coffee.

“Thanks for letting me hang around your store while Caroline teaches class.”

“It’s not like you’re in the way.” Mark looked around the store. “Business is always slow on Tuesday nights. That’s why I scheduled a class tonight. I thought the activity around the store might bring in more traffic. Judging by the sales floor it doesn’t look like that theory works.”

“Maybe you should run a Tuesday night special. An extra discount after seven or a ‘buy one yard of a fabric, get one yard for half price’ deal. Or would that cut into your profit base?”

“The discount wouldn’t. The fabric might, but I guess I could run it on certain fabrics or clearance fabric. I might just give that a try.” Mark emptied another bolt and began to measure the fabric.

“Gonna ask her out?” Rodney shook his cup, bouncing the ice against the plastic.

Mark ran his sharp shears down the grain of the fabric, separating it into two pieces. “I plan to, but I don’t know if she’ll accept. She’s a little out of my league.”

Sarah was a classic beauty. Long dark lashes fluttered over coal-colored eyes. Her small pug nose with the slight upturn at the tip led down to plump lips. He even liked how her short black hair was cut to show off her dainty ears.

Mark laid the scissors down and folded the fabric pieces.

Rodney scowled at him. “What do you mean by that?”

Mark pointed his index fingers at his body and waved them up and down. “I’m not exactly Mr. GQ. What would a petite beauty like Sarah want with a middle-aged guy built like me? That’s what I meant.” Yet she did seem interested.

“You’re solidly built inside and outside. That’s an asset, buddy.” Rodney gave a curt nod to punctuate his belief.