3. Holly
3
HOLLY
I hummed along as Christmas music played throughout my shop. Holly Lane Boutique. Yep, named after me and my horribly tragic Christmas name. I couldn’t help but name my shop after it. Holly Lane Boutique was in a cute house that I’d transformed into a store, filled with decorations for every room, along with comfortable furniture to accompany them, decor, and gifts. It was everything I’d ever wanted since I was a little girl and I’d made it my own, down to the orange cat that resided in my shop window most days.
“Ugh, not again,” Noelle groaned.
I grinned at her as she hefted a box onto the counter and turned to me, thrusting her hand on her hip. I loved Noelle and her attitude. We balanced each other perfectly. Her less-than-cheery attitude toward the holidays helped control my overly zealous attitude once the season had passed. Like right now. We’d bonded instantly over our hatred of being named after Christmas.
“I can’t help it. How can you deny that Christmas music is the best ever?”
“It’s fine,” she huffed. “But Christmas was over a month ago. It’s time to move on.”
I gasped, pressing a hand to my chest. “Move on?” I made my lip quiver as if I was actually insulted. “How could you ever just move on? Christmas is the reason for the season.”
“That’s not the saying, and the season is over,” she reminded me.
I sighed heavily. “Yes, and now we’re on to fake holidays. With fake love. Who actually celebrates things like Valentine’s Day?” I grumbled, tossing my decorations into the box on the ground like the grump I was whenever Valentine’s Day came around. I hated it. It wasn’t fair to those of us who were single. Always reminded that we would be alone. And if by chance we had a date, whoever that date was reminded us that it was only temporary, that they were only with us so they weren’t alone either. It was so depressing.
“Fake people,” she retorted. “We should boycott Valentine’s Day.”
“I would agree, but somebody out there will come into the shop and buy one of these fake decorations for their homes and I’ll profit off it. I can’t pass that up. In the meantime, I’ll cheer myself up with Christmas music.”
“Can’t you move on to St. Patty’s Day?”
“There’s no music for that,” I grumbled, hanging an ugly string of hearts that someone would love.
“Um…hello, Irish dancers and Irish music and hot Irish guys. Where have you been?”
“Yes, more hot guys. Please remind me of all the hotness I’m missing out on.”
I stretched on my tiptoes, but couldn’t reach the top of the doorframe. Sighing, I dropped the string and headed to the storage room at the back of the house for the stepladder.
“Did I tell you I have a date for Saturday?” Noelle called out.
I peeked my head around the corner, my eyebrows shooting up. “With the cop?”
She nodded, a grin filling her face. “Yep. Tom.”
“See? You’ll have a Valentine!”
She shrugged. “I’m not getting my hopes up. Besides, he already told me that his hours are super crazy.”
“Hey, it’s still a date.”
I could tell she was excited, but was trying not to show it. She’d been burned a lot in the past year, and putting herself out there was hard. I got it. After my last boyfriend, I wasn’t exactly keen to get out there either. But hey, we all had stories that sucked. I wasn’t going to let that get me down.
Two hours later, the shop was ready to open and the shop was decorated with pink and red, my two least favorite colors. Well, when put together. If it was for Christmas, that was perfectly fine. The music suddenly cut off and a hopelessly romantic love song filled the space. I grimaced, stomping to the back room.
I glowered at Noelle, crossing my arms over my chest. “What are you doing?”
“Hey, Valentine’s Day requires the appropriate music. You can’t play Christmas music while trying to sell hearts and flowers. It just doesn’t work.”
“It could work,” I argued.
“It really doesn’t. Now, take your butt out there and sell love. That’s what we’re here for,” she said, getting up to shove me back out into the main part of the shop as if she owned the place and I was her employee.
“We don’t sell love. We sell furniture and accents.”
“Same difference.”
“It’s not at all.”
“Whatever. I’ll handle the atmosphere because we all know what will happen if you’re in charge.”
She gave me a light shove into the main room where I stumbled into the counter. I would have gone back to fight her, but one of my regular customers walked through the door to see what was new for the season and I got wrapped up talking to her. The day rushed past me until the sun was setting and it was time to close the shop. Days flew past me like that a lot. I found myself wrapped up in work a lot, lost in having fun in my shop and talking with customers more times than not, leaving bookwork for at night instead of downtime at the shop when I should be doing it.
I flipped the sign on the door and went around shutting off lights as Noelle finished locking up for the night and turning off the music. When we were done, I pulled on my pea coat and wrapped my scarf around my neck, then pulled on my hat with the pom pom on top, then my thick knit gloves. After slipping out of my shoes and into my snow boots, I was ready to go.
It was always such a chore to go anywhere in the winter in Colorado, but I’d lived here my whole life. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Although, some days when storms were really bad, I wished I lived someplace really warm where they never saw snow.
“Ready?” Noelle asked, peeking her head around the corner.
“Yep, just grabbing my bag.”
“I can’t wait to get home and eat some soup.”
“I’m probably just picking up something on the way home,” I sighed. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d made something homemade. I was always too tired at the end of the night. But I always had time at Christmas to make cookies.
“You could always come over for dinner,” she suggested. “I have butternut squash soup.”
“As delicious as that sounds, I’m stopping by the outlet store tonight.”
“Finally getting that rug, huh?” she grinned.
“I’ve thought about it for a good two months now, designed it twenty times in my mind, and I think it’s the rug for me.”
“I can’t believe you’re finally biting the bullet,” she laughed. “It takes you ages to decide on anything.”
“I know, but that’s because I’d buy everything in sight if I didn’t really mull things over.”
I walked outside with her, careful on the steps as the temperatures dropped. I’d have to remember to salt the steps in the morning. Actually, I’d have to remember to pick up more salt on my way in tomorrow.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“No, that’s okay. I’ve got this.”
“How are you going to get it home?”
I’d already planned that out. “I’m going to roll it up and tuck it in through the back of my SUV into the front seat. It’ll be a tight squeeze, but it should fit.”
She shook her head at me, but waved. “Alright, see you tomorrow.”
“Bye!”
Twenty minutes later and one terrifying drive through heavy traffic, I was at the store, ready to get the rug I’d been drooling over for the past two months. I hustled inside, fighting the wind and the cold the entire way. Stomping my feet on the snow-packed mat, I headed to the back of the store to the rugs that hung from their displays. I swung the giant rugs one at a time until I came across the one I wanted.
But I had to be sure it was the correct size.
I tossed my purse on the ground and laid down on the ground in front of where it was hanging. Craning my neck to the side, I glanced up at it to make sure I was in line with the edge of the rug. Then, I rolled once to the right.
“One. Two. Three,” I counted as I rolled across the floor. “Four, five, six, seven?—”
I was in the middle of my eighth roll when I saw someone staring at me oddly. I stopped mid-roll and shoved my hat from where it had fallen down over my eyes. “Can I help you?” I asked him, sort of upside down.
“Nope,” he shook his head. “I’m just trying to figure out what you’re doing.”
“Oh,” I chuckled. “I’m measuring.”
His eyebrows rose slightly and he cocked his head to the side. “Measuring.”
It was really hard to talk to the man like this, so I sat up straight, shaking the dizziness from my brain as I stood. Whoa. Okay, either I had rolled one too many times or this man was extremely, insanely hot.
I studied him closer and came to the decision that I must have rolled too many times. No man on earth could realistically be this sexy. It wasn’t possible. Not at all. And no man like that would be in a home goods store at this hour on a night like tonight, staring at me—a woman rolling around on the ground.
Yet, he was here. Watching me.
“Um…yes, I’m measuring,” I said, somewhat flustered, trying not to notice how his nearly black hair stuck out from under his winter hat in long tendrils that probably brushed his cheekbones. Or the fact that he had that sexy scruff that made my fingers itch to run through it. Or luscious thick lips or grayish-blue eyes. Nope, I ignored all that. Why would I need to notice any of that? And I definitely didn’t need to notice that he had a definite bad boy vibe to him, but also a hint of sadness, or maybe it was something else. Either way, he covered it well.
And he was here. Standing in front of me, staring at me. Why? That’s what I couldn’t figure out. And despite telling him what I was doing, he continued to study me, to watch me intently, which was the very definition of studying. And I was rambling, thinking of all these things that I didn’t need to repeat in my head, all because this man had me flustered.
“Anyway,” I said slowly. “I’m just gonna…” I jerked my thumb over my shoulder and took a step back. When he didn’t move, I got back to it, starting over since I lost track of where I was. I laid down and started rolling all over again. When I was sure I rolled the appropriate amount of times, and that it matched the number of rolls in my house, I made the decision to get it.
I turned around to find an employee to help and nearly ran right into the man, forgetting he was there.
“Oh!” I yelped. “Sorry, um…did you need something?”
“I’m still trying to figure out what you were doing.”
I quirked an eyebrow at him, wondering why he cared. “Like I said, I was measuring.”
“Yeah, that usually happens with a measuring tape.”
I waved him off. “When you don’t have one of those, you use whatever’s around.”
His eyes crinkled slightly. “So…you rolled.”
“I did,” I said proudly. “I rolled to measure the number of times I needed to make it fit.”
He nodded again. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“That’s all I’ve got.”
I really didn’t know where to go from there. “Um…so…I should find someone to help me.”
“Well, good luck. With your rug,” he grinned.
“Thanks.”
He turned and strolled away, and as I watched his ass, a shiver made its way down my spine.
“Okay, pull it together, Holly. Hot men will only break your heart.”
I slipped and slid across the ice of the parking lot while pushing the cart and my massive rug to my SUV. This was taking way too freaking long. At this point, I wasn’t going to get any dinner tonight. I was starving and the hunger pangs were only making me hangry.
I popped the trunk and pulled the cart to a stop, then turned to open the trunk. But as I did that, the cart decided to take off on the ice. “Wait!” I called out to the cart. I started to rush after it, then realized my trunk was open. I started to go back, but indecision pulled at me to go after the cart. It wouldn’t matter if my trunk was open if the cart ran away with my rug.
I carefully ran across the ice, trying to catch up before it rammed into another vehicle or burst out into traffic, causing a ten-car pile up. Okay, highly unlikely, but it could happen.
"Stop, cart!” I shouted, slipping on the ice. “I said stop!” My shouting was fruitless as my arms whirled through the air in my desperate attempt to stop myself from falling on my ass. I yelped as I felt my feet go out from underneath me.
My ass hit the ground first and then my back and head. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. At least it was dark and no one saw me.
“Did you need some help?” the sexy man asked, appearing above me.
Great. Not only was my ass wet, but he’d heard me calling out to a shopping cart. Yep, I was talking to a shopping cart. And chasing it across a parking lot. That was perfect. And now I was laying on the ground, not answering him at all and staring up at nothing. I should probably answer. That would be good.
“Did you hit your head?” he asked, kneeling down beside me.
He really shouldn’t do that. God, his crotch was like…right there. I needed therapy.
“Nope,” I answered, springing upright. I got up on my own, refusing to let him see me in distress. I shoved to my feet a little too quickly and instantly went down, this time falling to my knees. They cracked painfully on the ice and I winced. He grabbed my arm, chuckling under his breath as he helped haul me to my feet.
“I gotcha.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” I muttered under my breath. I turned to him and smiled. “I’m good. Just a runaway cart. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“I saw that,” he laughed.
Man, even his laugh was sexy. Deep and throaty. Dreamy. He had that Adam’s apple thing where it stuck out and you could see it. It was so sexy. I really needed help.
“Yeah, I’m just gonna get it and then bury my head in the sand.”
“There’s only snow,” he pointed out.
“Well, it’s too cold to bury my head in the snow.”
Completely mortified, I turned and headed away from the man, marching toward my cart. Great, the cart had hit a truck. A very nice black truck. There was no hiding the scratch the cart left. I sighed, shaking my head at the damage.
“Dammit,” I hissed under my breath.
I dug through my pockets, knowing I had a scrap piece of paper somewhere. I always had a million things in my pockets. You never knew what you would need at any given time. Chapstick was a given in Colorado. Kleenex was always necessary. Oh, look at that. A tape measure. A pen. I would need that. Peppermints. And ribbon. I wasn’t sure what that was for, but there had to be a reason. And there it was. My little notebook.
Dear Owner,
I’m very sorry for my runaway shopping cart hitting your very nice truck. The ice was too slippery and I’m afraid I couldn’t stop it from taking out your vehicle, despite calling out for it to stop. I will pay for any repairs. Please call me and I will pay for the repairs.
555-1800
Sincerely,
Holly Lane
I tucked the note under his windshield and grabbed the cart, shoving it back toward my SUV. The man was smirking at me, watching the whole thing as if it was all so funny. Well, I didn’t need him to laugh at me. Even if he was extremely handsome and sexy.
“Do you want some help with that?”
“Nope. I’ve got it.”
He placed his hand on the shopping cart, quirking his eyebrow at me. “I’m Asher. And it’s winter, it’s icy, and I don’t mind helping. Please.”
Well, when he put it like that, it made me sound like an ungrateful bitch. “Thank you. I appreciate it. I’m Holly.”
“Holly,” he said, testing it out. “I like that. It suits you. Very…perky.”
“Perky? Maybe.”
Just wait until he heard my last name.
“So, Holly,” he said, pushing the cart to my vehicle. “Didn’t you have anyone that could help you get this rug?”
“Well, my friend offered, but I stupidly told her I could do it all on my own. I had a plan.”
“You did measure,” he chuckled.
“Hey, it’s a good method. I’ve used it before,” I said defensively.
“I’m sure you have. Maybe you should suggest it to the Office of Weights and Measures.”
I snorted at that. “Like they’d listen.”
“Yeah, probably not.”
He parked the cart and grabbed the rug, tugging it out. In no time, he had it positioned in my SUV just like I had planned. It was a little longer than I thought and didn’t exactly fit, but he was able to bend it and make it fit in the back and shut the hatch. When he was done, he grabbed the cart and grinned at me.
“I’ll take it back. I can’t risk it getting away from you again.”
“Probably for the best. It didn’t listen to me the first time I told it to stop.”
“Yeah, my truck can’t take another beating.”
My jaw dropped and I turned beet red. “Your—” I swallowed hard. “That was your— You didn’t say anything.”
“You were determined to leave a note.”
“I—did.”
“And I’m sure now I’ve got your number,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mirth.
“What makes you think that?”
“Somehow, I don’t see you as the type of woman to cut and run. Am I right?”
Dammit, he had me pegged. Was it too late to run back and grab it before he could get my number? Did I want him to have my number?
“Maybe.”
“Of course, I could always help you haul this rug into your place.”
“Why would you do that?”
“To see if your measuring really works.”
He didn’t need to grin for me to know he was teasing me.
“I don’t let strangers into my house.”
“That’s smart of you.” He walked toward me, his fingers grabbing the pom pom on top of my hat. “Be safe driving home. The ice can be deadly.”
I nodded, not knowing what else to do. As he turned and walked away with the cart, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to call me now that he had my number.
Not that it mattered. I didn’t need a man.