by Maisey Yates
“I love you too,” he told her, because that was the way a good happily-ever-after worked.
And then he showed her, right there in the sweet grass, that happily ever after was only the beginning.
* * *
How to Hold Him
Jackie Ashenden
To my yarn stash, which has been the brightest, most joyous thing in the whole of this 2020 nightmare.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER ONE
Charity’s Story
CHARITY GOLDING STOOD outside the vintage brick storefront of Jasper Creek’s old yarn store and contemplated the name for a moment, frowning. Knitting and Thingz.
It was a bit...old-fashioned, especially with the z at the end of things. Just like the store itself in many ways. A bit musty. A bit dusty. Lots of doilies. Nothing that would appeal to a younger crowd, which was a mistake given how lots of younger people were getting into handmade crafts. Yet it was perfect all the same.
She’d used to come in here when she’d been a teenager, overwhelmed by the pressure of needing outstanding grades so she could get into med school. She hadn’t known how to knit or crochet, or even sew on a button, and though part of her had been attracted to the thought of learning a new craft as a stress reliever, she hadn’t quite mustered up the will to try.
School had been hard enough to cope with and the thought of learning something new had brought its own stress, and so she’d contented herself with just standing in the store and looking at the brightly colored yarn. That had been enough to make that horrible choking sensation go away.
After the disaster of Hope’s canceled wedding, Charity, Pru, and Kit had been desperate to help their friend, and so she’d suggested that the four of them spend the summer doing up the four vacant shops in Jasper Creek. It had always been a place of peace for her, so Charity had really hoped that none of them would choose the yarn store.
She hadn’t told the others, but in the last few stressful months of work, she’d been thinking about that yarn store more and more. And when her father had finally decided on a move to Florida, and she’d helped him pack up and leave, she’d found herself driving past the store and stopping. And just...looking at it. Wondering what her life would have been like if she’d stayed in Jasper Creek and opened up a store just like it. Whether things would have been different if she had. Whether she would have been happier.
Hope’s wedding being canceled had certainly been awful, but it had given Charity a moment of clarity. She could turn that awfulness into something better, into something positive, and since they’d all once dreamed of opening stores on Jasper Creek’s main street, why shouldn’t they make that dream a reality?
Certainly this was her moment to get a taste of what life would have been like if she’d stayed. If she hadn’t gone into medicine to make her father happy. If she’d stayed put in Jasper Creek, and opened up a yarn store, and filled her days with fiber instead of the shouting, screaming chaos that was a hospital ER.
Well, now she could. This was her chance.
She almost gave herself a little hug right there in the street, but managed to stop just in time. No reason to get carried away. She wasn’t going to be quitting medicine for good. This was just a...small reprieve rather than a big life change. A couple of months of stress leave and then she’d be back in the usual grind in the hospital in Seattle.
But until then she could enjoy some time in a small, peaceful place, making decisions that weren’t life or death, where the most challenging thing was going to be rehabilitating the old yarn store in time for Jasper Creek’s centennial celebrations in a few months.
And the first thing to be rehabilitated was the name. That was definitely going to change.
She reached into the pocket of her jeans for her phone to add change store name to the store to-do list and then muttered a curse when she found the pocket empty.
Dammit. She didn’t have her phone. The annoyance lasted only a second though, since it had been her idea for them all to be without their phones for the entire three months they were in Jasper Creek. She’d thought it would be good for them not to be distracted by calls and texts and emails, and to do things the “old-fashioned way.” Certainly if she wanted to de-stress herself then not having her phone had to be a part of it. She didn’t want any calls from her colleagues or from the hospital, and the constant buzzing of text messages and notifications kept her on edge, making her feel like she was constantly on call.
No, she was glad she didn’t have it with her, and she’d been fine when Pru had taken the whole phone thing one step further, as she always did—they didn’t call Pru’s little storms Pru-ricanes for nothing—and made everyone put their phones in the safe in the shared basement below the shops.
That was where her phone was now, in the safe in the basement with all its many to-do lists, reminders, and all her preset alarms.
Charity dismissed the slight anxiety that the thought of her phone brought her, and reached into her back pocket for the pretty notebook she’d bought herself from the cute little bookshop along Jasper Creek’s main street the day she’d arrived, along with the lovely pen that matched it. She scribbled down change store name on the clean white pages, then made a mental note to tell Kit that she should sell nice stationery in the bookstore she was rehabilitating, then tucked both pen and notebook back into her pocket once more.
Getting out her key, she unlocked the front door of the yarn store and stepped inside.
Definitely dusty and a bit musty, and the carpet on the floor was worn and old. Most of the yarn and other store stock that had once been there was gone, but there were boxes here and there on dark wooden shelves that lined the walls as well as old needlework samplers, a few shawls on hangers, some lacy doilies, and a few old-fashioned baby matinee jackets tacked to the dark, gloomy walls themselves.
It was the same as she remembered—the antithesis of stress and pressure—and for that reason alone, she loved it.
She’d been in Jasper Creek a month already—she’d wanted a bit of downtime before she started the project properly—and had been into the store a couple of times to take a look around. But most of June had been spent with her laptop in the old farmhouse she was staying in with the others, browsing different yarn stores around the country, seeing how they were set up. Research was always her first step when taking on something new, especially a new business proposition, and this was no different.
However, now it was July and Jasper Creek had just celebrated the Fourth with a picnic. It was time for Charity to get stuck into the hard work of actually getting the shop ready.
She pulled out her notebook again, taking a look at the ideas she’d jotted down about a store spruce-up. She would definitely lighten up the walls and the shelves, and rip up the old carpet to expose the wooden boards underneath. She’d thought paring everything back and going simple would look good given the old brick and glass of the storefront. A light, airy space painted white to show off bright yarn colors and knitted pieces was definitely the way to go. Then again, it could be a bit antiseptic and she didn’t want the place looking like a hospital.
Ugh. No, definitely not like a hospital. She wanted no reminders of the ER while she was here, that was for sure. What she wanted was yarn and lots of it.
“Hey,” a deep, very male voice said from behind her. “Are you the new owner?”
Charity froze for a second, then turned around sharply.
A man stood in the doorway of the store, very tall, very broad, almost filling it. Worn jeans and a faded dark blue T-shirt. Boots and a black cowboy hat. Thick, short black hair, g
lossy as spilled ink. And eyes the color of a new minted silver coin. They stood out in his handsome tanned face—so bright, couldn’t miss ’em.
Couldn’t forget, either, those hard, beautifully carved features she’d sat across from at the kitchen table in the little house attached to her dad’s medical office every Tuesday after school. A face she’d tried not to stare longingly at as she’d helped him with his homework. A presence she’d missed with all her teenage heart when he’d subsequently dropped out of school and disappeared off the face of the planet.
All the girls had swooned after Browning West, but Charity had only had eyes for Garrett Roy, the baddest boy in school.
He’d been all brooding and hot, with a tragic backstory to match. His mother had run off when he was six, then he’d lost his father, a famous bull rider, in an accident when he was ten. He’d been brought up by his grandmother and even though Charity had no memories of her own mother, who’d died when she was a baby, she still liked to imagine the loss gave her a certain...kinship with him.
She felt that same kinship now, despite all the years that had passed. That stupid heart of hers gave a little leap, because apparently it was still seventeen and in love with a boy it could never have.
“Garrett,” she heard herself say breathlessly, the way she used to do whenever he arrived for their weekly tutor sessions. “Oh my God, it’s you.”
And then immediately she wished she hadn’t spoken, because she wasn’t that breathless seventeen-year-old anymore, but a hardened ER doc who dealt with emergencies on a day-to-day basis, and whose job depended on her ability to remain calm and in control.
It was too late now, though, and to make matters even worse, she was grinning like a lunatic and clutching her special compass necklace for luck, while he betrayed exactly zero recognition, shoving his hands in his pockets and eyeing her instead.
Perhaps he didn’t remember her, which would come as no surprise. He hadn’t wanted to be tutored by her and he’d made that obvious every minute of their time together.
Charity dialed back on her smile, turning it cool, and took a step toward him, letting go of her necklace and holding out her hand. “Sorry, I know it’s been a while. I’m Charity Go—”
“I know,” he interrupted. He did not take her hand.
Charity lowered hers, surprise that he’d remembered her only just edging out her awkwardness at holding out a hand he hadn’t wanted to take. “You do?”
“Sure.” His gaze was sharp and very level. “Every Tuesday. Math and English.”
She blinked, shaken for some reason. “Oh,” she said, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Look, I won’t beat around the bush,” Garrett said in that same abrupt way. “I got word that you’d bought the lease on this store so I wanted to come and check it out. This place used to be owned by Emmeline Roy, my grandma, and I want to know what kind of plans you have for it.”
Charity opened her mouth. Then shut it.
Garrett had never been friendly toward her, and it seemed like that hadn’t changed. He’d never been rude, but she’d always had the impression that he didn’t like her much. It had wounded her back then because of the crush she’d had on him, and she’d never understood what she’d done to earn that dislike.
She’d thought it might have had something to do with one Saturday afternoon when she’d made a visit to the yarn store and she’d seen him working behind the counter. Instead of his usual scowl, he’d been smiling at one elderly lady and chatting to her about something, and that smile of his had lit a fire in her heart that had never gone out.
She still had no idea why. But she’d thought that if he smiled at her like that one day then she’d die happy.
Of course, then he’d realized that she was in the store and watching him, and that scowl had returned with a vengeance. As if she’d caught him doing something he hadn’t wanted her to see.
She’d got it—the town bad boy being caught in the yarn store being nice to old ladies wouldn’t exactly do wonders for his cred. But still. Seeing him smile wasn’t a heinous crime, was it?
Anyway, right now his deep voice didn’t sound overtly confrontational, but there was a definite...edge to it. And that glitter in his gray eyes was just as friendly as it had been all those years ago—in other words, not at all.
What was his problem? Was it the fact that she was the owner? Or was he just worried she might do something awful to his grandma’s shop?
Whatever it was, it was clear that reminiscing for old time’s sake was not going to be happening.
Charity kept her professional smile tacked firmly in place and told herself she wasn’t disappointed about that in the slightest. “Oh, I’m still thinking about the details, but I plan to keep this going as a yarn store, so don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried.” His gaze had narrowed even further to slits of brilliant silver, suspicion radiating from him. “Grandma passed a couple of years ago, but she owned this place a long time and it was pretty much an institution. People would not be happy if you decided, say, to open a clothing store instead.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Charity said sympathetically. She hadn’t known Emmeline, but Garrett must have been close to her. “That would have been very hard.”
He stared at her, his expression enigmatic. “Well?” he asked, not acknowledging her sympathy one iota. “What are you planning on doing with the place?”
Okay, so he’d lost his grandma, and that had to be rough. But still, his manner could use some work. Especially when she’d been perfectly pleasant. What had she ever done to him except help him with his homework?
She was tempted to tell him she was going to turn it into a nightclub, just to see if that stony expression on his handsome face would change, but it certainly wouldn’t help matters.
“Well,” she said, holding tight to her usual calm. “All I’m planning on doing is refreshing the interior—painting the walls and ripping up the carpet, polishing the floorboards and giving them a coat of varnish. Then I’ll get some new stock in.” She gave him her best “I’m a doctor and I’m here to help” smile. “Honestly, the only thing I’m going to change is the name.”
* * *
SHE WAS ABSOLUTELY not going to change the name.
Garrett stared at the woman standing in front of him, shock still reverberating through him. He knew he was being unfriendly and difficult, and he didn’t give a damn.
“You are not changing the name,” he said.
Charity Golding, the daughter of the town’s doctor and the girl who’d once haunted his dreams back when he’d been a senior in high school, kept that calm and vaguely patronizing smile on her face. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ve got a really lovely alternative. It’s—”
“You’re not changing it.” He could hear the flat note in his voice, knew he was being a dick, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.
His morning had started out badly with yet another phone call from his uncle trying to manipulate him into selling the ranch, only for things to get worse when he’d arrived in town and realized he’d left his wallet at home, which meant he couldn’t buy the fencing materials he’d come into town to get. Then it had descended into extensively crappy with the discovery that the new owner of the yarn store—which he’d decided to poke his head into just out of interest—was not only Charity Golding, but she was also going to change the name of a business that his grandma had poured the last thirty years of her life into.
Charity Golding, who just happened to be as cute and sexy as she’d been thirteen years ago, all bouncing red curls, adorable freckles, eyes the same color as the delphiniums that his grandma kept in a vase on the kitchen table, and a body curvy enough to fuel a man’s fantasies for an entire month of Sundays.
That body was outlined now in a pair of tight-fitting faded jeans and a loose cotton blou
se almost the same shade as her eyes, and he was not happy about the way his blood pumped a little harder at the sight of her. Not happy at all.
He’d put her and the ridiculous crush he’d had on her firmly behind him the day he’d dropped out of school. And that had been years ago, for God’s sake. He should not be getting all worked up now and the fact that he was, was just damn irritating.
He’d spent years as a bull rider traveling the circuit, getting high on adrenaline, fame, money, and all the women who’d thrown themselves at him. Until he’d given it all up to take care of his grandmother. And he hadn’t looked back, not even once. He’d stuck to ranching, unlike his old man. He’d kept his eyes on the straight and narrow, which did not include one pretty redhead he still had the hots for.
And most especially not when said pretty redhead was changing the name of the yarn store.
It was a little thing, maybe, and in the normal scheme of things he might have let it go. But he was in a bad mood and his gran had loved the store, and he was absolutely not going to stand for it.
Charity opened her lovely rosebud mouth. Closed it. Smiled. Then raised her hands in a calming gesture. “I hear you. And I’m open to discussion.”
Garrett had never been a fan of being placated and he got the feeling that she was placating him now. It irritated the hell out of him.
“Here is the discussion,” he said. “The name stays.”
A crease appeared between her brows and she tilted her head, examining him carefully as if he was an unexploded bomb that might go off at any second. “It means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”
Since leaving the circuit and coming back to Jasper Creek, Garrett had put his past behind him, but there were still people around who muttered that he had too much of his father’s wild streak to settle into ranching. He’d worked hard to stop those mutters by keeping his head down and his eyes forward, and not letting himself get riled.