Carolyne Aarsen - The Bachelor Baker

When Randall Manufacturing closed its doors, he was out of a job. He’d worked as a foreman and had made decent money. Enough that he’d managed to set some aside with the hope of starting his own mechanic shop. He had been working on cars and trucks ever since he could pick up a wrench, helping his father work on farm equipment and fixing up his and his sister’s vehicles. He’d been doing some work on the side with an eye to someday owning his own business. Being his own boss.

After he lost his job he thought that would be the push he needed to get it started. So he’d gone to the bank for a loan. But the bank had turned him down, stating that his down payment wasn’t large enough given the current economic condition of the town.

His hopes had been revived when he’d heard about some mystery person with a large amount of money who was looking to start new businesses in Bygones. That hope had been extinguished in favor of outsiders. The committee was looking for new blood. New ideas.

Why had a local like him, who had way more invested in Bygones, been turned down in favor of someone who wasn’t from here, who couldn’t possibly care about the town the way he did?

Bunch of city slickers like Melissa Sweeney. He gripped the steering wheel of his truck, stifling his humiliation. In spite of his antagonism to Melissa as City Slicker Baker, he couldn’t stop noticing Melissa was an appealing woman. She was the first girl he had felt any kind of attraction toward in a while. In another time and in other circumstances he might allow that feeling to go somewhere. But not now.

He had no job and no prospects.

Nothing to offer her.

Chapter Two

“I may as well warn you—Trent’s mother wants to meet with us to talk about another change to the dessert menu.” Gracie Wilson ran her fingers through her short brown hair, artfully disheveling her cute pixie cut as she blew out a sigh. “And she was talking about adding a tea right after the church service. Said it was a courtesy for the people who attended the service who we didn’t invite to the reception.”

Melissa caught a curious note in Gracie’s voice. “Is everything okay?” she asked. “You seem upset.”

Gracie waved off Melissa’s concerns. “I feel overwhelmed by all this fuss and bother. Mrs. Morgan is all about pink and girlie and I want things simple. I can’t believe how much planning she’s been doing. Plus, I wish we would have kept the wedding on a Saturday, the way I originally wanted. I just think she wants as many people there as possible.”

“A Sunday wedding will be very nice,” Melissa said, putting her hand on the young girl’s arm in a gesture of commiseration. “And if it’s any consolation my mother had been planning my wedding for years. In fact, before she died, she gave me a folder with ideas she collected.”

“I didn’t know your mother was dead,” Gracie said, her voice full of consternation. “That’s so sad.”

Melissa waved off her concern. “It happened five years ago.”

Gracie was quiet, then she leaned forward. “Have you met anyone since you came here who would give you a reason to pull that folder out?”

“I’ve met lots of people,” Melissa said, being deliberately obtuse.

“You know what I mean.” Gracie leaned closer, grinning, her previous funk disappearing behind her usual bubbly personality. “What do you think of my boss? Patrick Fogarty? Isn’t he just a dream?”

“He is good-looking.”

“That sounds like a brush-off. So, have you met someone else then?”

Just then the door opened. When Melissa looked up she had a sense of déjà vu.

Brian Montclair stepped into the Cozy Cup Café followed by an elderly man, tall, slender, wearing a golf shirt and plaid shorts. His hair, a thick shock of white, was neatly brushed and his blue eyes sparkled. He had the same widow’s peak as Brian, the same blue eyes. Melissa guessed this was Brian’s grandfather.

Brian glanced her way, then he hesitated a moment and she wondered if he would come up to her and accept her offer. Instead he turned to the man he was with.

“Grandpa, what did you want to drink?” Brian asked him.

Gracie glanced over her shoulder, then turned back to Melissa, grabbing at her arm, her eyes wide. “Oh. My. Goodness. He likes you,” she said in a stage whisper.

Melissa shot her a frown. “What? Who?”

“Brian. He totally likes you.”

Melissa resisted the urge to roll her eyes but lowered her voice, too. “That man has been nothing but cranky to me, especially when...” She stopped herself there, figuring someone like Brian wouldn’t want Gracie to know about her offering him a job.

But Gracie didn’t catch her vague sentence; instead, she looked back just as Brian glanced their way. Then she turned back to Melissa, her eyes wide with pleasure. “See? He is checking you out.”

“He’s wondering what you’re whispering about.”

“He’s acting like my brothers do when they like someone.”

As a sister of five brothers, Gracie could be considered an expert on male behavior. Melissa, growing up the only child of a single mother, had no such experience on which to base her judgment.

However, she figured she knew how a man would act if he was attracted to someone. The first thing Jason had done when he met her was flirt with her. Then give her his phone number. When they dated, he made her believe she was the only one for him. That he would always be there for her. They talked about starting up a new business together—a bakery in St. Louis. She moved to be with him and make their plans. But just when everything seemed to come together, he left her with her money, her dreams and a broken and disillusioned heart.

Melissa pushed the dark memory aside. She had her bakery now and her own chance to prove herself. Depending on anyone to fulfill her or to support her plans was a waste of time and emotion.

Brian reminded her too much of Jason. A bit arrogant and a bit controlling. No thanks. She was her own boss now, in charge of her business and her heart, and she wasn’t letting anyone in on either one.

Then the door of the shop opened again and Mrs. Morgan swept in.

“Oh, dear,” she heard Gracie whisper as Mrs. Morgan walked toward them, clutching a binder identical to the one Gracie had on the table in front of her.

“Good afternoon,” Mrs. Morgan said. “Sorry I’m late.”

She held out her hand to Melissa, her red fingernails flashing. Her hair, a delicately washed silver, hung in a stylish pageboy around a face that defied her actual age. Her silky brown dress seemed unnecessarily formal for a casual meeting in a coffee shop, but Melissa was slowly learning Mrs. Morgan placed much stock in appearances. She didn’t so much sit down as ease into the chair in one fluid motion. “What have I missed?” she asked, glancing from Melissa to Gracie.

“We were talking about some of the changes you wanted to make.” Gracie’s voice grew small in this woman’s presence.

“Gracie said you wanted to add a tea with snacks for after the service,” Melissa said, taking over, hoping to ease the sudden tension. “However, this will substantially change the cost.”

Gracie spoke up. “I don’t know if my father wants—”

“You don’t have to worry about the money,” Mrs. Morgan said. “I told your father we would cover everything.”

“But—”

“Please. I don’t want to hear about it anymore.” Mrs. Morgan smiled, but the tension around the table had increased.

And when the café’s door burst open, Melissa jumped.

“Melissa,” a worried voice called out. “I need you to come to the bakery.”

Melissa turned to see Amanda scurrying toward her, twisting her apron around her hands, her face a grimace of concern. “The oven quit working and all those cupcakes you put in aren’t baking.”