liked making them. More importantly, I finished what I started. “I am loyal to the death to my one and only project.”
“You’re still going to have the supplies for at least two projects, so you need to pick your second project that isn’t for the babies.”
Damn. Had Sebastian attended a school on how to talk dirty to a woman while visiting fiber heaven? Apparently. “I like blankets.”
The lion smirked at me. “I like the color red.”
Okay. If he wanted a red blanket, I could do that—and my virus demanded I fall into line, as two projects meant more time with him.
Pushover virus.
If he understood quilting, another hobby I enjoyed because it involved turning scraps into something worthwhile, my virus would be taken out, lost to his wily ways. I brought the black skeins and the hook over, set them on the counter, and hunted for a good weight yarn for a blanket for him. I’d need extra yarn, as it would take a larger blanket to contain the ego—and body—of a lion. I checked the skeins of a dark red and a beige, did the mental math to calculate how much I’d need for such a project, and grabbed the appropriate number before snagging a good hook, one with a well-shaped, silicon handle.
It cost a lot, but it would be worth it.
I set my stash onto the counter and smiled at the woman. My next words would make or break my bounty, as she’d included a confirmation phrase in her request. “I like to quilt, too, but my shears have seen better days. Do you sell any that handle being resharpened well?”
Her eyes widened, and she glanced in the direction of the corner. She pointed in the direction of the wolf, and when I looked, I spotted several sets of shears hanging on the wall. “The gold pair over there is really nice. Good, sharp point, and it holds its edge well. If you take care of those, you’ll have them for life. The brand is excellent, and they come in several sizes. Would you like to see them?”
Yes, I absolutely would like to see the gold pair with the good, sharp point. And I’d enjoy stabbing the wolf, as the woman had confirmed my target with her promised line. “I would, please.”
Sebastian busied himself at the fabric section, and it amused me he shuffled through the scrap material quilters loved, as they were perfect for quilting projects and little else. Given an hour and a single excuse, I could plan an entire new quilt, fill the cab of my daddy’s truck with my ill-gotten gains, and keep happily amused with my new shears.
My family would undergo mass hysteria if they found out what I planned to do with a good pair of shears in the next minute or so.
The woman walked me to the shears, and each pair had one outside of the wrapper, presumably for demonstrations, and she handed me the gold ones. She kept a polite distance, giving me room to deal with her asshole of a suitor. I made a show of checking over the tips, discovering the point would pierce flesh with any amount of pressure. I regarded the droplet of blood beading on my fingertip. “These are nice.”
“Yes, they are. They’re my favorite. They’re expensive, but they’re worth it.”
I made a show of testing the scissors, adjusted my grip on the handles, and plunged the pointy end of the blades directly into the wolf’s throat, hard enough the impact made my wrist and elbow ache from the force of the blow. As a single blow to the throat wouldn’t finish him off, not unless I’d gotten lucky, I systematically stabbed at his throat, giving the woman most of my attention. I even did my best to make sure his blood sprayed only onto himself, the floor, his tablet, and not any of her precious crafting supplies. For a rare change, it mostly worked, although the ridiculous number of holes I added to his throat helped mitigate the overall spray. “These are really nice, I have to say. Fabric just wouldn’t stand a chance against these shears. I think I’ll need two pairs. I’ll also want a smaller pair good for detail cutting, as I’d like to make a nice quilt, and I’d like to work with small pieces on this one. I do enjoy the challenge of fine detail work.”
My first blow must have been enough to sever the wolf’s spine, as he slumped