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About the Author
By Carol Pedroso
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Crochet My Heart
By Carol Pedroso
Accountant Tristan plans to make a ton of crochet items for his local LGBT charity to sell at their holiday fair. His only problem? He can’t crochet.
Fortunately the community center offers a class, and it’s taught by Charlie, who is gorgeous and sexy and seems interested. At first. Can grandmotherly fellow classmate Ivy guide the clueless men to each other, or will it take something more serious to help them see the possibilities?
Happy Holidays to lovers everywhere.
TRISTAN YELLED and threw the offending item across the room. Yarn streamed through the air, and the crochet hook clattered against the wall before falling to the floor.
He would never make his deadline at this rate. He’d promised Fran he would fill at least half a six-foot table with handmade items. What was he going to do? He couldn’t sew, he couldn’t carve wood, and now it seemed he couldn’t crochet.
How hard could it be? His grandmother had produced lots of crocheted items right until her illness made her unable to hold the hook. She could make a stuffed toy in the time it took him to finish telling her about a bad day he was having at school. It never failed to cheer him up.
He grabbed a cushion to muffle the next yell he could feel building up. He didn’t want the neighbors wondering what he was doing. He then realized the cushion was a crocheted one his gran had given him, and his mood plummeted even further. He missed her a lot, more so now when he really needed her help.
He grabbed his phone and hit speed dial.
“Hey, sis,” he humphed as soon as the line connected. “I need some help.”
Lisa’s laugh echoed in his ear, making him scowl. “I’ve been saying that for years, Tris.”
“Har, har,” he replied.
“Fine,” she drawled. “What can I do for you, brother dear?”
Tristan pushed down his irritation—he did need her help, after all. “I need to make a collection of crocheted items for a charity Christmas craft sale. It’s in aid of an LGBT charity that supports youth who are thrown out of their homes by their parents; the building they’re using is falling apart and is in need of urgent repairs. I tried using some of gran’s old patterns, but I didn’t know what all the letters and symbols meant. So I tried using the internet, but the videos play too fast, and I can’t keep up. What am I going to do? I only have a little over six weeks. Are you laughing?”
Lisa’s chuckling trailed off, and it was a few moments before she answered. “So let me get this straight. You have agreed to cover half a stall with crocheted items when you don’t know how to crochet?”
Tristan felt his face heat and was glad they were on the phone and not face-to-face. “Well, Gran made it look so easy. And with the internet I thought I should be able to make simple things fairly quickly.” Even he could hear the plaintive quality to his voice, but he couldn’t help it. How could it be so hard to use one slim piece of metal to make a simple square?
“You’re in luck. I may be able to help you.”
It took him a moment to realize what Lisa had said. “You can? How? Do you know how to crochet? Could you make the things for me to sell on the stall?”
“No, I can’t crochet—or knit, before you ask. And no, I can’t make anything for you to sell. But I may know someone who can help. I’ll tell you what. Give me ten minutes, and I’ll call you back.”
Before Tristan could answer, the phone went silent, and he realized she’d hung up.
He gave a huff and headed for the kitchen. He turned the coffee machine on, wishing he had something stronger to put in it once it was brewed.
He was doctoring his coffee with cream and sugar when his phone started vibrating its way across the counter. A picture of Lisa and him flashed on the screen, a selfie they’d taken on a rare night out where they were both pulling silly faces. It always brought a grin to his face when he saw it.
“Hey, sis. Give me some good news.” He tucked the phone between his cheek and shoulder so he could sip his coffee and search the cupboards for some cookies.
“You’re lucky. Andy told me the other day about a class starting at the center he volunteers at. The first session is on Tuesday at ten. Someone called Charlie is doing a beginner crocheting and knitting class. I’m texting you the address of the center and a reminder of the time. Lucky for you, working from home means you can make the time to go.”
Tristan felt the vibration of a message received. He plonked his coffee down on a table and glanced at his screen. “Yep, got it. Thanks, sis, you’re a lifesaver.”
“Yeah, yeah, just remember you owe me, little brother.”
After more thanks and promises, Tristan hung up and slumped onto the couch. Lisa was the best sister in the world. He would have to make sure he added something really special to her Christmas gift.
He went and picked up his yarn and hook. Maybe one more try.
Make a slipknot, push the hook through, hook the yarn, then pull it through. Do that six times and… drop the yarn and lose the loop. Put the hook back in the loop, try to join the stitches to make a circle. How was he meant to get the hook through the first stitch? It was smaller than the hook.
Tristan threw the work back on the couch in disgust and grabbed the remote. A few buttons later and he was happily binge-watching his favorite TV show, and all thoughts of crochet and Christmas fairs were pushed from his brain.
Six weeks until the fair
CHARLIE LOOKED around the empty hall at the leftover Halloween decorations that hadn’t yet been taken down. The chairs he’d set out in a semicircle mocked him with their emptiness.
This was the first week; people needed time to get to know about the class. At least that was what he kept telling himself as he rose to start packing up the table of supplies he’d laboriously laid out.
The door opening had him spinning around in surprise. The welcome he’d been planning to offer stuck in his throat, and his mouth dropped open at the sight of the man entering the hall.
The man pulled off a blue knitted hat to reveal the brightest ginger hair Charlie had ever seen. Thin wire glasses perched on a pale nose covered in freckles. A hesitant smile hovered on soft-looking lips. The sound of a throat clearing had Charlie looking up, and he felt heat creeping up his cheeks when he met the man’s gaze.
“Um, how can I help?” Damn, now he sounded like a preteen before his voice broke.
“Is this the right place for the crocheting class? I know I’m late. The bus didn’t show up, so I had to wait for the next one. My car is in the shop. Have I already missed it?”
Charlie shook his head and silently told himself to get his head out of his backside.
“No, no, no. You haven’t missed it. This is the first class and… um… well… you’re the first to arrive. Please, come in. I’m Charlie. Tell me about yourself. How did you hear about the class?”
The blinding smile he received froze him in place, and he nearly missed the next comment.
“My name is Tristan, and my sister’s husband volunteers at this center. She told me about this class when I called her and complained about failing at a project I’d started.”
While he spoke, Tristan removed his coat and took a seat near the table of supplies Charlie had set out.
Charlie gave himself yet another shake to regain his wits. He headed to the table and left one spare seat between himself and Tristan. He didn’t want to crowd the hottest man he’d met in a while.
“So what project are you having tro
uble with?”
Tristan wouldn’t meet his gaze and seemed to be talking to the ground between his knees, where his hands were hanging.
“I sort of, maybe, kinda agreed to make a few crocheted items for a Christmas fair a charity I volunteer for is holding. My gran used to make things all the time, and she made it look easy. But I’ve since worked out it’s not as easy as she made it look. I have six weeks to make enough Christmas items to cover half a six-foot table. The more items, the better. We need to raise enough money to save the building we’re in. Now I am left wondering how I will make good on my promise. Give me a set of accounts and I’ll do your taxes in no time. Not so when it comes to making things.”
Charlie suppressed a smile. It seemed Tristan had his heart in the right place.
“It depends on what you want to make and how many you want to make. Seeing as it’s a Christmas fair, I assume you want to make things like snowmen, tree decorations, stuffed toys.”
“I will bow to your expertise.” Tristan gave him a playful bow and a crooked smile from his seated position.
Charlie pushed away the attraction that flared at the sight of the smile and pulled himself into his teaching zone. He needed to be professional, and hopefully Tristan would be kind enough to spread the word.
Glancing over the supplies table, Charlie picked up a larger hook and a length of yarn. “First show me what you can do, and we’ll work from there.”
He watched as Tristan took the hook, and with a look of intense concentration, wrapped the yarn around it to make the first loop. It took a few attempts, but Tristan got it and gave Charlie a glance of triumph before continuing. The first two chain stitches went fine, but then the hook slipped out of the yarn loop. Tristan fixed it back in but then couldn’t pull the yarn through the loop.
With a huff he dropped the yarn and hook into his lap. “That’s what happens every time. I think the furthest I’ve managed to get is six chain stitches before I usually throw the work across the room.”
“I think I see where you’re going wrong. First we need to correct the way you hold the hook.” Charlie stood and moved behind Tristan. Reaching over Tristan’s shoulder, Charlie encouraged him to pick up the work again and adjusted Tristan’s grip on the hook until his fingers were wrapped around it more securely. “By holding it so loosely, you were allowing it to dip, and so the loop was falling off it. It all comes down to basic gravity. Now as for the chain stitches, watch.”
Charlie took the hook and yarn and did three quick chain stitches, then slowed down and showed Tristan what he was doing.
“You see how I keep the tension on the yarn constant? And how I always push the yarn up to the thick part of the hook before going into the next stitch? That means that the loop doesn’t get pulled too tight, and I can always pull the yarn through easily. By keeping up the tension, I keep the stitches an even size. Now you try.”
They were so involved in their work they both jumped when the door opened again.
“Is this the crocheting class?”
Charlie turned to see a smiling white-haired lady peering in.
“Yes, come in, come in. I’m Charlie, and I’m running the class.”
“Hi, Charlie, I’m Ivy.”
As she spoke, she pulled off her coat and sat. She then fished around in the bag she’d put down by her feet and pulled out a ball of yarn with a hook sticking out the top and a sheet of crumpled paper.
“I need help with this project for my next grandchild. I can get the first part, but the pattern I have doesn’t explain things very well, and I only have a few weeks left to finish this.”
Charlie grinned. “I can help you with that, don’t worry.”
“I seem to have lost my manners. Hello, young man.” Ivy held out her hand to Tristan.
Tristan grinned and shook the offered hand. “Hi, I’m Tristan, a fellow stuck student.”
Ivy giggled, but whatever answer she was going to make was interrupted by the door opening yet again.
“Oh, I forgot to say my daughter, Ashley, was parking the car. The new grandchild I’m looking forward to will be her niece.”
TRISTAN HAD to hide a chuckle at the look on Charlie’s face. He had looked like he was ready to give up when Tristan had arrived. Now Charlie’s smile looked like the sun rising.
Tristan was sure that if Charlie’s skin weren’t already a rich tan, he would be flushed with the happiness that was radiating off him. Of course, the fact that Charlie’s pants hugged his ass perfectly had nothing whatsoever to do with Tristan’s appraisal at all.
Ashley, the newest arrival, sat gracefully in the seat between Tristan and Ivy. She copied her mother’s move of pulling things out of her bag. She had a lovely ball of yarn that seemed to shift colors as she moved it.
Tristan leaned over slightly. “Wow, can I ask where you got that yarn? It’s beautiful, and I think it would make some great things for my Christmas stall.”
Ashley grinned and fished back in her bag. She pulled out a still-wrapped ball of the same yarn. “I got this from a site that sells yarn in bulk. You can have this one, if you’d like. I have loads more at home.”
She held out the ball of yarn, and Tristan took it in surprise. “Are you sure? It really is beautiful colors. You must let me at least give you something towards the cost. Yarn this good can’t have been cheap, even in a bulk lot.”
He reached for his wallet, but Ashley waved him off. “Just make me something we learn here sometime, and we’ll call it even.”
Tristan nodded rapidly, hugging the yarn to his chest and making Ashley laugh.
Charlie had finished talking to Ivy and turned his attention to Ashley. While they went through the basics of what level she was at and what her aims were, Tristan went back to his chain stitches. He finally managed to get past six and even made it to ten before his hook slipped out of the loop again. Biting back a curse, he caught the loop up and carried on. When he finally got to twenty chain stitches, he let out a whoop.
He then realized everyone had gone silent and was staring at him in amusement.
“Someone kill me now,” he muttered, trying to hide his face as he felt it warming and knew he was going red as a beet.
Ashley patted his knee. “I take it you’ve finished your foundation row? What’s next?”
“Next?” Tristan frowned. Then he remembered the pattern he had and pulled it out of his back pocket. Smoothing the paper over his lap, he ran a finger down the instructions, muttering as he went.
“Twenty chain stitches plus one. Single crochet into the second stitch from the chain, and then in each stitch to end.” He ran the instruction around in his head a few times.
Ashley had obviously been reading over his shoulder. “So you need to add another chain stitch.” He did as she said. “Then you need to single crochet in all the stitches except the one nearest the hook.”
“What’s a single crochet?” he asked, looking up and around at the other two people there.
Charlie smiled, and Ivy clapped. “Oh, we have a crochet virgin.”
This caused a round of laughter, and even Tristan chuckled as he felt his face heat further.
Leaving the ladies to chat, Charlie moved behind Tristan and glanced through the pattern he had.
“A single crochet is like this.” He took the hook and slowly pushed it through one of the chain stitches. Hooking the yarn, he pulled it through, then hooked the yarn again and pulled it right through. “Now you try.”
Tristan pushed the hook through, but when he pulled it back, the yarn snagged, and he found the hook was well and truly stuck.
Charlie took the work and deftly untangled the hook and yarn. “Try again.”
He handed it back and watched as Tristan slowly but surely completed three single crochet stitches. They weren’t neat, but they were there.
Charlie patted his shoulder and moved away. “Now keep going until you get to the end.”
Tristan couldn’t help watching him walk away
. The way those pants hugged him really should be illegal.
“That is one fine ass.” Ashley’s whispered comment made Tristan squeak in surprise. Glaring at his fellow student, who was giggling like a teenager, Tristan turned back to his crocheting.
He got to the end of the row and was about to look up for help when a warm presence appeared behind him.
“Very good. Now chain one up and turn the work over.” Charlie’s breath heated the side of Tristan’s throat and sent an involuntary shiver down his spine.
For goodness sake, he was only teaching him to make something. He had obviously gone too long since he last got laid. He’d have to….
“You listening, Tristan?”
“Yes, of course.” Tristan prayed he wasn’t blushing again and tried to follow what Charlie had instructed him to do.
“That’s right. Now repeat what you did for the last row. Start here.”
Tristan pushed the hook through the stitch Charlie indicated, and at Charlie’s nod, slowly worked his way along the row.
He looked up at the end and saw Ivy was working on a colorful circle. At the point she was at, it looked like a rainbow spiral about a half inch big.
Her hook was flashing in the light from the fluorescent bulbs. Her fingers moved so fast he could barely discern where one stitch finished and the next one started.
She must have sensed him staring. “It’s going to be a hat.” She spoke without even looking up from her work, and her fingers didn’t miss a beat. She pulled a length of black yarn out of the work and then fixed it underneath the next stitch.
“I have to mark when I start each new round, or I would lose my place.”
Tristan shook his head. “I don’t think I will ever be good enough to do that.”
Charlie looked up from where he was discussing Ashley’s project with her and frowned. “You will be able to do that and more by the end of this course. Mark my words.”
Tristan shrugged and turned back to his pattern. Chain one, turn the work, and repeat the last row.
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