by Ana Ashley
How to Catch a Rival
Chester Falls Book 2
Ana Ashley
Contents
1. Tom
2. Wren
3. Tom
4. Wren
5. Tom
6. Wren
7. Tom
8. Wren
9. Tom
10. Wren
11. Tom
12. Wren
13. Tom
14. Wren
15. Tom
16. Wren
17. Tom
18. Wren
19. Tom
20. Wren
21. Tom
22. Wren
23. Tom
24. Wren
25. Tom
About Ana
Also Available
How to Catch a Rival - Chester Falls Book 2
© 2020 by Ana Ashley
First Edition: January 2020
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopy, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
How to Catch a Rival is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places events and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover design: Rhys, Ethereal Ealeain
Editor: Victoria Milne
Join Ana’s Facebook Group Café RoMMance for exclusive content, and to learn more about her latest books at www.anawritesmm.com!
For those who walk the fine line between love and hate, and aren’t afraid to take a detour.
Enjoy the adventure!
Ana
x
1
Tom
“Dress shabbily and they remember the dress; dress impeccably and they remember the woman,” I said to my reflection in the mirror. I was wearing a lavender three-piece suit that made my eyes pop. “Before you leave the house look in the mirror and take one thing off.”
The words of my idol, Coco Chanel, never failed me, so I took off the handkerchief from the jacket lapel. I did a full turn for a final check and left my small apartment to go to work.
Maybe wearing a suit to work at Mason’s general store would have been excessive for most people, but I refused to compromise, at least where it came to fashion.
One of my earliest memories was when I found my mom’s pearls and spent hours in her room wrapping the long necklace around me. When she’d found me she sat on the floor next to me and had said, “This is how Coco would have worn her pearls,” and then she’d opened a drawer in her chest and pulled out a box. For the rest of the afternoon we’d played together, wrapping and unwrapping her pearls around my neck, and till this day it was one of my favorite childhood memories.
I turned the corner into Chester Falls town square and opened the door of Spilled Beans to the sound of the jingling bell. In two months of living in Chester Falls, it never ceased to make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
“Morning, Tom,” Indy, the barista, said.
There were three people in the line to get their morning coffee, and all three turned back, looked at me, and smiled.
“Hi, Indy, it’s a gorgeous morning. Where are you taking us this week?”
“This week we’re in Brazil, where the coffee beans grow at high altitude and have a sweet and full-bodied taste. You’ll love it.”
The pastry display was, as usual, full of delicious-looking sin. There was no point in trying to pretend to myself that I wasn’t going to take one of Indy’s cinnamon buns. I figured all the walking I did these days more than made up for the calorie intake.
As I waited for my turn in line, I looked out to the town square. The trees were turning into beautiful fall shades of dark reds, oranges, and browns. Beyond the square and right next to Bookmarked, the town’s bookstore, was my dream—the empty store I hoped one day I could afford to lease.
“What’s it going to be today, Tom? Mocha latte? Vanilla and cinnamon latte with a hint of pumpkin spice? What can I create for you?” Indy asked.
“Black, no cream, no sugar, and one of your cinnamon buns, please.”
“You sure I can’t interest you in something more creative?”
“I’m sure.”
Indy shook his head and filled my reusable cup with his new Brazilian coffee.
I’d met Indy when my best friend Charlie had brought me to his hometown of Chester Falls a few months back. The first time I laid eyes on the indigo-haired barista I’d flirted shamelessly, and he’d flirted right back. Even now my cheeks heated a little at the thought.
When I’d returned to Chester Falls with Charlie, after another round of flirting, Indy and I had tried to hookup. I’d drank cocktails, he’d drank cocktails. I’d imagined running my fingers through his long hair, that was normally tied up in a bun, while he pushed his way inside of my tight heat. He’d imagined the same.
As they say, two bottoms don’t a top make, and that had been the end of Tindy, as I’d called us in my head, and the start of a friendship. Or maybe we’d both known we would be better as friends and didn’t want to ruin that with a meaningless hookup.
I picked up the small paper bag with the pastry and took a sip of the coffee. As Indy had said, it was sweet and full-bodied, and just what I needed.
“Indy, this coffee is great,” I said, walking to the door. “See you tomorrow.”
“One of these days I will convert you to my lattes.”
“You’d have better luck converting me to a top,” I teased before stepping out into the cool fall morning. I didn’t miss the slight blush in Indy’s cheeks.
I drank my coffee without rushing on my way to work. Walking past the empty store on my way to Mason’s and staring at it for at least five minutes was part of my daily ritual now. I’d planned out in my head what it would look like, the colors, the furniture. Even the smallest details, like what kind of pictures would hang on the wall; it was all part of the dream.
When Charlie had told me he was moving out of our Boston apartment all the way to Lydovia to live with his boyfriend, Kris, I’d been so happy for him but also lost as to what to do.
Charlie had had his own fairy-tale love, meeting a real-life prince and falling in love. The press hadn’t made it easy on them, and I’d witnessed firsthand how Charlie struggled with being in the public eye, but as they say, love conquers all, and so my best friend moved all the way to a different country.
At first I’d been determined to stay on my own in Boston. I’d picked up extra hours at work while I’d looked for a new roommate, but as the months had passed and I’d been no closer to finding someone to share the apartment with, I’d had to make some decisions.
“I can still pay my share of the bills,” Charlie had said one weekend he’d visited with Kris.
“I know you’re trying to pay me back for helping you see the hot piece of royal ass right in front of you, but that’s what fairy godmothers do. Besides, I might find a new roommate soon.”
Charlie had taken a leaf out of my book and had sat me down, made me an ultra-sweet cocktail, and told me he wasn’t having any of it. I could accept his help with the bills or maybe consider a move.
The cocktail had been all kinds of awful, but in the sugar-induced coma I admitted moving out of Boston hadn’t been something I had considered. After living in the city for so long, it hadn’t crossed my mind that I could live elsewhere.
Moving back to Colorado to live
near my mom had been out of the question. I loved her but I did not love the freezing winters.
One thing was certain, I was ready for a change.
When Charlie suggested I could move to Chester Falls, I’d dismissed it, but a few more cocktails in—this time prepared by me—I’d wanted my own prince, like Charlie, and I wanted to live in a tiny house, because they’re super cool, and I wanted to be at one with nature.
Ben, the owner of Bookmarked, came out of his store to place his A-sign outside, which reminded me I needed to stop daydreaming and go to work.
“Morning, Tom, I see you’re checking in on your baby.”
“One day she’ll be mine. Doesn’t look like anyone wants her anyway,” I said wistfully, looking through the large window and seeing the too-bare walls that needed all the love I had to give.
According to Ben, the store had been empty since the old lady who leased it had passed away a year ago.
“Maybe it’s waiting for the right owner,” Ben said, placing his hand on my shoulder.
“Yeah.”
The walk to Mason’s was an introspective one. It would take a long time to save enough money to open my fashion boutique, but I was determined to not let it get me down. I was already doing all the hours the Masons could afford to give me in their store, but I could still take another job.
I walked into Mason’s through the back entrance, as usual, but unlike every day up till now, what greeted me wasn’t a super-tidy storeroom with the office door at the back open where Jonas Mason, the owner, could ask me how everything was up front while I grabbed some stock for a customer.
No, the vision in front of me made my heart swell, and my creative brain exploded with sensory stimulation.
I navigated my way around the many boxes that overflowed with decorations in all the colors of the rainbow, there were even rainbow cardboard cutouts and rainbow tinsel. There were also rolls of fabric and boxes of stock that were fortunately still sealed, because I wasn’t sure anything in here would survive the glitter dust.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Abigail and Jonas Mason stood side by side with the biggest smiles on their faces.
“Tom, welcome to Chester Falls Pride month,” they announced.
I remembered Charlie talking about the month-long Pride celebrations. Chester Falls took their support of the LGBTQ community seriously.
While most places celebrated fall and Halloween, Chester Falls did Pride in October. Now if that wasn’t an omen for how much I belonged in this town, I didn’t know what was.
“Abigail, Jonas, I’m about to jump out of my skin with happiness with all this color and trust me, if I wasn’t wearing one of my best suits—my own creation by the way—I’d be on the floor playing already. Please tell me you’ll let my little unicorn heart play with all of this.” I sang.
“Abi,” Jonas said, placing a soft kiss on Abigail’s cheek. “I’ll leave you two to it while I’m out front.”
The look the older couple exchanged was so sweet. Thankfully, I could cope with all the happiness and glitter any time of day, even before nine in the morning.
“Right, my dear, we have a job to do.”
“Let me put my things in the locker and I’ll be all yours.”
I had a feeling this would be a messy day, so I hung up my suit jacket and rolled up my sleeves, leaving the vest over my shirt.
“There’s a window display competition every year during Pride month. We won it a few times before, but Trisha Potts from the haberdashery store has won the last five years in a row. Rumor has it she hires someone from New Haven to do her window. No one’s been able to prove it. She normally covers up her window the day before Pride month starts, and the next morning it’s all done.”
I picked a few items from the boxes to see what we were working with. Some looked fairly old, but there was definitely potential. The general store sold a little of everything: small appliances, homeware, soft furnishings, and even locally sourced gift food like honey, jelly, and especially nutmeg and apple cider.
“Abigail, whatever Trisha has, she doesn’t have a Tom Jones. This is going to be the best window display, and Mason’s will bring that trophy back. Mark my words.”
Maybe I was overly confident, but even though I spent my evenings designing and making clothes, it had been a while since I’d had a chance to show my creativity, and I was dying to get stuck into a new project.
“I knew I could count on you, dear. God knows neither of my sons have a creative bone in their body.”
Sixteen-year-old Troy Mason often helped in the store. He was a nice kid, but he was more interested in computers and coding. It was thanks to him that Mason’s had the best website I’d even seen from a small-town store.
I hadn’t met the Mason’s older son, Wren. Abigail had mentioned him a few times. He was some kind of hotshot footballer in California.
“So tell me, Tom. What are your thoughts for this window?”
“Come with me.”
Abigail followed me out of the storeroom. My idea was to create a three-dimensional window display of a living room, showcasing the products from the store but also making it super fabulously full of color. I wanted understated glamor.
We didn’t get to the window, because as we passed one of the many aisles in the store, Abigail let out a scream and I saw Jonas Mason collapsed on the floor.
2
Wren
The twink trying to climb me like a tree was a sure bet, but the sexy girl with the red lipstick and the long dark hair leaning against the bar talking to her friend was doing it for me too. On nights like these I knew I’d be better going home alone and rubbing one off in the shower before going to bed.
“The team had a good start to the season, Coach Mason,” Tracy, one of the teachers at school said. “The kids wouldn’t shut up about last night’s game long enough to focus in class today.”
One knee injury and my pro-football career had been over just as it had been taking off. It was something I’d battled with initially because football had been my sole focus during those teenage years when I’d struggled to figure myself out, and the only thing that had ever made sense had been playing my favorite sport.
Having my dream end so abruptly had hurt more than the injury, but I’d found a new passion in teaching sports and coaching football. It didn’t hurt that most teachers at my school were cool people, and the students didn’t give me much grief.
“With all due respect, Trace, I wouldn’t want to focus on geography either,” Rob said.
Tracy punched Rob in the arm and he pretended to be hurt.
“What is it you teach again, Rob?” I asked, taking a sip of my beer.
“Fuck you, Mason.”
“It’s Wren, and it sounds like someone’s math class lacked focus today too.” I grinned as I raised my bottle in mock cheers and finished it off.
After my short-lived football career had ended, I couldn’t face going back home, so I’d stayed in California.
Maybe I should go home on the next school break. Just for a few days. The last time my parents came to San Diego was five years back to watch my debut game with the San Diego Marinos, and it had been at least three years since I’d been home.
God, I missed Chester Falls. It had been too long since I’d done one of my favorite things: running in the forest outside Chester Falls followed by a hot shower and a slice of my mom’s apple pie.
A pang of nostalgia hit me. Fuck, I needed to go home.
I almost didn’t notice the twink’s hand wandering up and down my leg, getting closer and closer to my crotch. The fact that I wasn’t even hard was reason enough to call it a night and take my sullen mood home.
I grabbed the wrist of the guy, Stephen? Sean?
“I’m heading home, guys.”
A chorus of groans followed my statement.
“Tell you what, you heathens, I’ll buy you a round so you don’t get so sad without me here.”
&nb
sp; That was followed by cheers and raised glasses. I laughed and moved to get up, but Stephen, or Sean, tightened his hold on my thigh. I took his hand and pulled him toward the bar with me.
There was no need to let him down in front of everyone, and since he’d joined our group with the sole purpose of flirting with one of us, I hoped he’d either make his own way back to the table or pick someone else.
I asked the bartender for a round of drinks and then turned to him.
“Look—”
He put his hand up to stop me.
“Tonight’s not my night, is it?” He had such a sweet smile, I was tempted to kiss him just to take away the sting of rejection.
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay.” He shrugged. “You’re still buying me a drink though because Sam here is going back to the table and flirt with Mr. Math teacher with the wandering eyes.”
Sam, that was his name. I looked at the table and true enough, Rob was looking at us.
“Rob? He’s as straight as an arrow.”
Sam laughed. “If you think he’s straight then you need to give back your gay card, honey.”
The bartender put all the drinks on the bar and I slipped him a few notes to cover the check and tip, and then I gave Sam a kiss on the cheek and whispered in his ear, “I’m not gay, I’m bi.”
He chuckled and took the drinks back to the table as I left the bar. I didn’t miss Rob’s smile as Sam took the drinks back. I really hadn’t seen that one coming, then again, Rob was new at the school and had only been out with us a few times.