about Mr. Thomas Griffin Gallagher, but none of the reports she’d gotten had described his lethal good looks. Nor had she gotten the impression of him as a charmer. Quite the opposite, actually. The words she’d heard associated with Griffin, as she’d heard he liked to be called, had been more along the lines of determined, detail-oriented, driven, and hard-nosed—which she’d translated into bullying asshole.
Of course, the only people she’d talked to who had actually met the man were other men.
There had been talk that he looked nothing like his American-born relatives. But she still hadn’t been prepared for how startlingly different he did look. The whole town knew of his true heritage now that word had leaked out he wasn’t actually blood kin to the Gallaghers at all, but rather the direct descendant of Lionel Hamilton’s late wife, Trudy Hamilton, previously Trudy Haversham.
Hamilton Industries was the economic backbone that solely and uniquely supported the town’s ongoing existence. Though neither Lionel nor his forebears had ever been perceived as warm, or even particularly likable types, there was no denying his stewardship of his family’s many holdings had continued to make Hamilton a viable place to live and work. As such, there had been significant concern as Lionel’s health had declined over the past several years. Trevor Hamilton, his great nephew and the only Hamilton heir, had made it clear he was not interested in taking on the family empire. What would happen to their town and their livelihoods as time marched on?
It had been during last year’s holiday season that Holly Gallagher—then Holly Bennett—had taken over her mother’s Christmas shop in neighboring Willow Creek, which was also where Sean Gallagher ran his popular family restaurant. The two of them, now married, had unearthed a diary written by a young, pregnant Trudy in one of the dusty antique desks buried in the shop’s attic.
Apparently Trudy had been sent by her wealthy family in Richmond to a dotty old aunt in neighboring Willow Creek, to give birth to her out-of-wedlock baby in secret. The dotty aunt would see to the child’s eventual adoption, but teenager Trudy and her newfound friend, Sean’s own grandmother, had spirited the babe to the local parish, where he was placed with one of the many Gallagher families.
Melody hadn’t heard the specifics on how or when Griffin’s grandparents had returned to Ireland to raise the baby—who grew up to become Griffin’s father—but she knew Griffin had been born and raised there, apparently never knowing of his real ancestry. Melody found that odd, given just how different he looked from the other Gallaghers. Surely there had been some speculation.
The joke around Randolph County was that there must be a Gallagher baby factory somewhere that popped them out on a conveyer belt, each meeting the same specific Gallagher baby criteria. The resemblance amongst them all, down to the last cousin—and there were endless numbers of them—was uncanny. Dark hair, flashing blue eyes, charming grin, above average height and build, all of which held true whether they were male or female.
While Griffin was certainly impressive enough in the latter two departments, he was neither dark-haired nor blue-eyed. In fact, it was his close-cropped sandy blond hair, slightly darker brows, and thickly lashed, pale-to-almost translucent green eyes that had caught her off guard when she’d come bustling out of the back.
He looked lean and rugged, even in a perfectly cut suit and overcoat that had likely set him back more than she cleared in a month. His face was hard and angular, giving him the almost brutish air of someone who could hold his own in a brawl. The slight bump on the bridge of his nose indicated he probably had. Then he’d smiled, and there had been a surprising twinkle in his eyes, an unexpected sensual curve to those chiseled, hard lips, all combining to transform him from street tough to fallen angel. One with a very tarnished halo, who would no doubt try to tempt her into any number of unwise adventures.
After losing an entire morning’s work when her cooling racks had collapsed, she’d already been thrown for a loop, more concerned about replacing the crushed cupcakes for the Hamilton Senior Center centennial birthday celebration than rushing to see to the immediate needs of whoever was in the front of her shop.
To discover him behind the counter, and worse, finding herself hopelessly caught up in those ethereal eyes of his, and the naughty promises his smile was making…not to mention that absurdly sexy accent hanging in the air between them…well, it was no surprise she’d taken refuge in the anger and frustration she’d already built up toward him, even though their paths had never crossed. It seemed a lot safer than allowing herself to think, even for one tiny second, that she might be attracted to the man whose very presence in her little town was a threat to everything she held dear.
Ever since the discovery of the diary, the town of Hamilton couldn’t stop buzzing about whether Lionel would recognize Trudy’s descendant as a true heir to the massive Hamilton empire. Trevor had come back long enough to help Sean and Holly verify the story in the diary, eventually connecting Griffin with Lionel and reiterating his desire to live his life on his own terms. Last Melody had heard, he was doing quite well with that plan. He lived in North Carolina with his wife of several years, Emma. In fact, Trevor and Emma had just added to their menagerie of rescue animals with a bouncing baby boy.
Melody smiled at the thought as she brushed flour off the front of her jacket, thinking it nice that people followed their dreams and found happiness in their successes. She’d thought she’d done that very thing when she’d left Hamilton as a high-minded seventeen-year-old, intent on earning a law degree and living her life in the fast-paced, oh-so-current world of the nation’s capital. By the time she’d entered law school, the grandmother who’d raised her was gone, and Hamilton was merely a fond memory of a childhood left behind for bigger and better things.
Melody snorted at that. Bigger maybe, but better, not so much. She’d lasted four years post graduation in the toxic hell that was life as a DC tax law litigator. Staring at her thirtieth birthday, worried about having the soul sucked directly out of her, she’d realized she needed a new dream.
She’d initially been lured back to Hamilton by her best childhood friend, Bernadette, the only one she’d remained in contact with over the years. Bernie had begged her to come and lend her tax and legal expertise in setting up Bernie’s new bakery business. So Melody had taken her first vacation since…ever, deciding she could use the two weeks away from the merry-go-round her life had become to do some serious soul-searching and rethink her goals.
Instead, she’d found herself baking. A lot of baking, in fact. She hadn’t reached any conclusions, but the baking had calmed her, centered her, given her something to do with her hands, and freed her mind from the endless loop it seemed to be on of late. When she returned to her life in DC, still unsettled and unhappy, she’d enrolled in a pastry chef course. Then another one. Followed by an entire semester, crammed in with her regular workload, at a local culinary school. She still hated her life as a tax attorney, but baking things helped level out the stress. In the absence of any other great life plan, it was better than nothing.
Then Bernadette had broken down and told Melody what had really led her to ditch her job as a senior advertising accountant with Hamilton Industries and follow her private dream to launch her own bakery…she had cancer. Starting a bakery was something she’d wanted to do before she died. With stage four Hodgkin’s lymphoma, that eventuality was going to happen sooner than she’d thought.
Melody’s path had become crystal clear then, all her priorities painfully and abruptly defined. Without a single pang of regret, at the age of thirty-one, she’d handed in her resignation, packed up her essentials, and walked away from the law degree she’d spent many years and a ton of money obtaining, along with a career that was the envy of many. Heading south to be with her friend for whatever time they had left, she’d learned how to run a bakery…and how to watch a best friend die. Ten months later, she was alone in Hamilton again…and the new owner
