Hers to Hold: Sisters of Springfield, #4

By Eliza Ellis

She thought she was abandoned. He was always her home.

 

Kadynce Martin discovered a secret: she has three half-sisters living in Springfield. Taking a job as an investigative reporter, Kady moves to Springfield to discover the truth behind why her father abandoned her. When she's unexpectantly tackled by a handsome and mysterious stranger, Kady's introduced to a family she never knew she needed.

 

During a PTSD flashback, former United States Marine Wesley Solo shields Kady from enemy fire. Her gentle touch draws him back to reality and ignites a longing in his heart for more than their brief interaction. He believes he's found a woman who could be a mother to his daughter, but a romantic relationship goes against doctor's orders. When their paths keep crossing, Wes makes it his mission to discover everything about the secretive and alluring Kady.

 

Kady's new assignment to get close to Wes and report on his business partner puts her in a bind: she's falling for Wes. When her secret is revealed, will Kady be able to hold on to the love of her life?

 

Hers to Hold is the final book in the Sisters of Springfield series, where the bond between sisters is more important than anything. Family secrets, forbidden attraction, and a touch of humor are what you'll read in this sweet, contemporary romance in a small town by Eliza Ellis.

 

 

Books by Eliza Ellis

Sisters of Springfield ~ Sweet Romance
1. Hers to Kiss 
2. Hers to Marry
3. Hers to Love
4. Hers to Hold

Billionaire Boss ~ Clean Billionaire Romance
1. Her Special Forces Billionaire 
2. Her Business Rival Billionaire 
3. Her Spare Heir Billionaire
4. Her Ranch Hand Billionaire

Norfolk Saga ~ Romantic Suspense
1. Splint (Sam & Huck)
2. Taken (Hunter & Kate)
3. Friction (Tony & Jessie)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eliza Ellis
• Release date: Aug 26, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393777267

Book preview

Chapter 1

Y ou couldn’t have come at a better time.

Kadynce Martin squeezed her shoulders up as people on either side of her reached across the counter to pick up their orders. The cashier called out a change to someone’s coffee order while a customer from across the shop loudly echoed the announcement of their order number. All sorts of fruit, grains, and unrecognizable aromas floated beneath Kady’s nose, shocking her olfactory system in the most sweetly, insulin-crushing way. Is it always like this?

I can see, Kady said as she surveyed the bakery.

Katrina Kaye’s bakery—Kaye’s Kakes—was legitimately the place to be on an early Monday morning. The modest-sized shop in the heart of Springfield’s downtown shopping district was packed from wall to wall with people either eating, waiting for orders, or trying to place an order. Kady heard the one-time pastry chef had elevated herself to national cooking-show stardom in a matter of minutes, with fame lasting longer than twenty. Looks like she’s the real deal. Kady considered ordering a cupcake to be in the know.

But she wasn’t here to eat the products; she was here to sell them.

I have an appointment for nine, she shouted over the crying baby squirming in its mother’s arm beside her. To interview for the counter position.

Yes! Yes, I know, the lady behind the counter said. She passed the mother a box. Here’s your order, ma’am. We apologize for the wait. A dozen special order cupcakes. We’ve included an extra cupcake for you, free. The newest flavor. We hope you enjoy it.

Oh! I’m sure I will. See you on Saturday! And the woman sliced through the crowd, her box of cupcakes as a sword.

Whew! One down, about a hundred more to go.

Kady read the woman’s nametag. Olivia. She looked about the same age as Kady, late twenties, even with her baker’s hat on and a streak of flour running across her cheek. Shouldn’t she be in the back baking? Maybe that’s why they’re hiring.

I thought I was meeting with Ms. Kaye, Kady said. She hadn’t spotted the owner, but she was about fifteen minutes early. Kady strained her neck to get a better look at the people at the far end of the shop, where it was the most crowded. None of the women looked like the picture Kady had seen on Katrina’s website.

Right. Kat apologizes for not being here, but she had a last minute taping of her show and won’t be able to make it. I’m Olivia. I’ll be conducting the interview. She quickly typed on the tablet as a customer rattled off her order of cupcakes and assorted pastries. Olivia swiped the woman’s card, handed her a receipt and hurried disappeared through two swinging double doors that Kady guessed led to the kitchen.

No Katrina Kaye.

Kady had also read Katrina—who was called Kat by her friends and family—also hosted a hugely popular local cooking show broadcasted nationally and on YouTube. She frequently had world-renowned French chef, LeBleu, as a guest. He was credited as having discovered Kat’s talent for uniquely blending ingredients to create explosive flavors that had her shop filled to fire-hazard capacity with people clawing to receive her goods.

A fairytale story if Kady ever read one.

Kat married her long-time best friend and war hero, Drew Callaghan after he returned from war, engaged to Kat’s best friend. Kady had laughed as she read the bio. It was as sickening sweet as the smell in her bakery and just as unbelievable. No one had happy endings like that. Maybe on some countdown to whatever holiday on a television channel producing sweet and wholesome shows, but in the real world? In the real world, people lied, cheated, and shirked responsibility. If it wasn’t for personal gain or protection, then it wasn’t important.

Like me.

Kady shoved the invading thought to the back of her mind and concentrated on the mission. She was here to get the job. Not screw it up with personal problems diverting her attention and focus. Olivia expected her to prove herself.

And that’s exactly what Kady was going to do.

Olivia reappeared with an open box that had a couple of cupcakes in it, which she passed to another helper.

Can I help? Kady shouted over the ever-increasing volume of noise from the patrons. I’m free all day.

Olivia’s shoulders slouched. Bless you! Yes, a trial by fire is probably the best test of your skills. She motioned Kady to follow her to the other end of the counter where she opened one of the waist-level wooden doors, allowing Kady to separate herself from the guests. I know you’re interviewing for the register position, but as you can see—she spread a hand out wide for Kady to look around—we’ll need you to do a little more than punch in orders. All of us help out in every position.

Kady swallowed, her eyes going to the kitchen doors. You mean you’ll want me to bake? She couldn’t cook a thing. Boil water, sure, but pity the eggs she put in the pot. Her mother hated cooking and had refused to teach her daughter anything about it.

You don’t need to cook now. Men want stripper bodies and for you to have your own money. Who needs to learn to cook when you can order take out?

Olivia laughed heartily. Not today, no. But if you want, Kat would be thrilled to give you a few lessons and have you help in the kitchen. She usually hosts employee-only master classes to test new recipes. That way, we can cover for anyone who has an emergency or gets swamped, like right now. We have plenty baked to handle this crowd, so I help out front.

Kady nodded. Olivia took her satchel and handed her an apron. After thoroughly washing her hands, securing a bonnet over her thick, curly hair she had snatched back into a ponytail, and slipping on serving gloves, Kady listened intently as Olivia quickly went through the process for pickup orders.

If you can handle checking numbers and handing out orders, then you’re well on your way. Olivia smiled brightly.

Kady thought she read something sinister behind the smile, like Olivia was expecting her to fail grandly. A trained monkey could hand stuff back and forth. It’s just you. Focus on getting the job. You need this.

After successfully passing out five orders, Kady’s nerves settled, taut mostly due to the noise and size of the crowd. This she could handle. The more she blocked the clamor, the less distracted she was, allowing her to easily function behind the counter.

The number of pickup orders was staggering. Kady could only imagine the hours Olivia had spent in the kitchen the night before and this morning. Not to mention the vast variety of pastries and other food items they sold. They not only catered breakfast, but a full lunch as well. Soups paired with specialty breads, sandwiches, salads, and an array of fruit among other dishes. This place has to be staffed twenty-four hours a day.

A child shrieked, causing Kady to jump. The box in her hand tumbled to the ground. Oh, no!

She thought she was getting ahead by moving a few of the early orders out front to be within hands reach.

And now one was on the ground.

She gingerly picked up the box and looked at the order number scribbled by the packer in the top right hand corner. Although equipped with the latest technology to handle orders, Kady thought it a nice touch to have the number and a couple of hearts doodled on the boxes. It gave a sense that the goods were made and boxed with care.

Care she completely demolished with the shout of a child likely experiencing the ecstasy of a well-made cupcake.

Number thirteen, she breathed.

That’s unlucky.

Kady raised her eyes to the man to whom the deep voice belonged. Despite the array of clatter in the shop, when his struck her clear, it dammed the others to a consider distance.

Her line of sight trailed up a body clothed in jeans and a black polo shirt with a company label on it. Her eyes traveled the corners of a scruffy square jaw to his straight nose, finally settling on the most beautiful pair of golden-brown eyes she’d ever seen.

I think that was my order.

Kady’s tongued moved awkwardly around her mouth, like a baby trying to speak for the first time. I…

The man smiled easily, further transfixing her. You?

Someone bumped her from behind, sending her into the counter in front. Warm hands gripped her upper arms, steadying her. Now she was inches from his mouth. It moved, but Kady didn’t hear a thing. In the next moment, it smiled relaxing Kady.

She could stare at it forever.

But then, she couldn’t stop the kid who darted past her, his mischievous laugh signaling his victory.

Chapter 2

H old that thought, the woman said as she pulled herself from his grasp and sprinted after the kid.

If she only knew what thought she was asking him to hold. She might snatch it from him.

Wesley Solo had never seen her working in Kat’s shop before today. Was she new? Had to be because he was in here every other day to pick up orders for the guys at the worksite. Or maybe she usually worked on the days when Drew grabbed their order.

Either way, she looked completely overwhelmed by her duties. He couldn’t blame her. Today was more crowded than usual, now that Kat had introduced a few new items to the menu. He hadn’t expected the horde to descend on her shop. But it was Monday.

The server wrangled the kid, who protested and demanded to go to the back and see the baker. She ushered the kid from behind the counter and passed the child off to an apologetic mother, who promised to leash her kid the next time she came into the shop. Wes shook his head at the comment. Kids didn’t need to be leashed. He couldn’t imagine putting one on his daughter.

The little boy easily slipped from his mother’s grasp and maneuvered effortlessly through the crowd.

Well, maybe a leash was entirely appropriate for this child.

Wes turned his gaze back to the server whose generous brown eyes found his. Her face twisted in both shame and embarrassment. His heart sympathetically jumped in his chest. He didn’t care about the order. He knew the owner of the bakery. She probably had a secret stash somewhere in the kitchen especially made for her husband.

He opened his mouth when he heard it shatter.

Again he was in Afghanistan, surrounded by jagged mountain peaks, the wind assault his team by constantly whipping up loose dirt from the earthy terrain. Bullets rang in his ears, drowning out the shout of orders from his commanding officer. They were pinned down in an abandoned village; a trap they didn’t see coming. Their intel had been wrong. Their source compromised. They’d expected resistance from the group, but not the size of the group.

More than fifty men were holed up in the town, just waiting for a small, unexacting contingent of troops to arrive for the slaughter. Wes’s company had fought their way to a small house with a roof, giving them high-ground footing for their more accurate shooters. A mile from the village, their sharpshooters picked people off who foolishly broke cover, but it wouldn’t be enough. They needed aerial support, and that was still a few minutes out.

Who was this woman and what was she doing here? Aid worker? Missionary? Her large brown eyes spoke of desperation and need, awakening a desire in him unlike any he’d ever felt before.

He had to protect her. He was the only who could.

He tore through the waist-high swinging doors. Nothing would keep her from him. Get down! With one arm, he brought her close to her side and dove behind the counter.

Her face contorted into a painful expression. Had she been shot? Was he too late?

When she opened her eyes, fear and shock stared back. What…?

Don’t worry, he breathed, wondering why he couldn’t hear the returning fire of his men. The air was strangely sweet, different from the bitter arid smell his nose was accustomed to. Stay down. I’ll keep you safe. He squeezed her close to his side, his face an inch from hers. Do you hear me? he gritted. I won’t let anything happen to you.

Her features softened. She twisted in his grip and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. It’s okay, she whispered.

Her soft, husky voice tore through his concentration. He cursed. One mistake was all it took to return home draped in the flag. He grunted, willing his mind to ignore the pleasurable stimulation his nerves were discharging as she