Free Last Chance Knit & Stitch by Hope Ramsay

time?”
    All the hands went up. Of course, more than half the ladies of the book club were members of Christ Episcopal. So if their minister’s wife, who also happened to be the second largest employer in town, suggested a book, it was a lead pipe cinch that everyone would agree to read it.
    “Hold up a minute, Molly,” Savannah called. Molly was heading toward her canary yellow Charger, parked in the lot behind the library.
    She turned as Savannah hurried up to her. “What?”
    “Uh …” Savannah stood there for a moment looking awkward.
    “What the heck is it? Do I have BO or something?”
    Savannah shook her head. “No, it’s just that I have something I need to tell you.”
    “About what?”
    Savannah danced from foot to foot and continued to look awkward. When she spoke, her words came out like a racing freight train. “It’s a message from Aunt Miriam.”
    Wariness scrambled over Molly’s backbone. “From Miriam?” she asked. Crap, she didn’t need another surprise today.
    Savannah’s aunt was practically legendary. She was one part fortune-teller, one part busybody, and she’d made it her life’s work to find soulmates for every blessed single person in Last Chance. She’d been implicated in several recent weddings. Miriam also had a hand in matching Savannah up with Dash Randall. Molly glanced at the big, fat diamond on Savannah’s hand. The wedding of the decade was planned for the first week of June.
    Molly wanted nothing to do with one of Miriam Randall’s predictions. She didn’t believe in that crap, which put her in the minority. If Miriam made a forecast, the church ladies of Last Chance—and that was a majority of the female population—would be working overtime to get her hitched up to someone.
    Yuck.
    “Don’t look so astonished and petrified.” Savannah was actually wringing her hands, which seemed like a bad omen.
    “What is it? Are you about to tell me that I should be looking for a man just like my father? I’m not sure that’s what I want. I mean, look at where it left Momma.”
    Savannah frowned. “Uh, well, I’m not sure. He might be like your father. I mean, well, most men like football, don’t they?”
    “Yeah, I guess. What exactly did Miriam tell you?”
    “She told me you should be looking for someone who has known you for a long time. Since you were little.”
    The forecast was a little underwhelming. And also annoying.
    “Great. So every past member of the Davis High School football team is a possible match.”
    “Uh, well …” Savannah’s voice faded out.
    “Or are you trying to tell me that I belong with Les? Because if that’s what you’re saying, you can just forget it. Les is my friend. We are not romantically involved. In fact, he’s on a date right now with Tammy Nelson.”
    “Tammy? With the teeth and boobs?”
    “Yeah. I’m thinking the boobs are the main attraction. Les is a pretty simple and straightforward kind of guy.”
    “Uh, well, I don’t know,” Savannah said in a rush, like she was suddenly trying to get away from Molly.
    “Do me a favor. Tell your aunt not to repeat this crap, okay? I’ve already got problems out the wazoo. I do not need a bunch of busybodies trying to turn me into a bride. I am not bride material.”

CHAPTER
7
    R icki Wilson tapped her right heel forward and then her toe. She crossed her right foot behind her left and rocked to the Wild Horses’ cover of “Boot Scootin’ Boogie.” As always, she danced right near the stage where she could keep an eye on Clay Rhodes, the fiddler in the band and the man she let get away.
    The Wednesday crowd at Dot’s Spot wasn’t near as big as it would be on Friday, but it was big enough that she could dance without being alone. Which was completely ironic because she was as alone as a body could get.
    She had lost Clay years ago when she’d decided to dump him in favor of the richer and older Randy Burrowes, the talent scout for the record label Clay had signed