Chapter 1

Chapter One

Sophie Jacobs loved Christmas.

She loved looking through the plate-glass window of her bookshop and seeing snow flurries dance to the ground. She loved the scents of cinnamon that drifted down Main Street from the bakery and the fresh pine from the boughs that hung above the doors of all the businesses downtown. But most of all, she loved the spirit of Christmas—the good cheer, the joy, and that giving was worth more than receiving.

So she couldn’t figure out why Hank O’Hara was standing in her crowded store, seeming larger than life in his boots and rugged lambskin coat, asking if she had a few minutes to talk. No she didn’t have a few minutes to talk. Couldn’t he see that both cash registers were three people deep? Or that Julie Milton’s little boy had just knocked over a candle display? Or that Freddie, her part-time clerk, looked like she was coming down with a cold and would probably have to be sent home soon?

She felt her perpetual Christmas cheer beginning to dim, so she kicked her smile up a notch as she tied a big red bow on one of the specialty cloth bags she sent home with shoppers, and then she handed it to the woman across the counter. She was obviously a tourist—a wealthy one judging by her designer purse and shoes that would have paid all her employees’ salaries for the month—and she had the look of a woman who lived a resort lifestyle. She was probably mid-fifties, but her plastic surgeon had done a great job of putting her back in her thirties. Sophie had gotten good at pegging people quickly over the years.

And though Laurel Valley was swamped with tourists just like the woman in front of her during the Christmas season, there was no way The Reading Nook could have survived without the tourists, so she thanked God for each and every one of them.

“Merry Christmas,” Sophie said. “Come back and see us.”

“Thank you,” the woman said, brushing artfully tousled blond bangs out of her eyes. “I just love your shop. It’s so quaint. It’s like it’s from a different time. All these built-in bookcases and the big stained-glass window. It reminds me of my parents’ home back in Ohio. My father was a carpenter. He did beautiful woodwork like this.”

“This was the house my grandmother grew up in,” Sophie said, smiling. “Her father built it. After she and my grandfather got married she used this house to open the bookstore. And then it passed to my mother. And now it’s mine.”

“That’s wonderful,” the woman said, her face lighting up with pleasure. “Merry Christmas to you.” And then she headed out the door, causing the little bell to ring and a smattering of snow flurries to swirl onto the entry mat where they melted quickly.

Hank O’Hara was the next customer in line, and Sophie felt her smile dim. He didn’t have anything in his hands, and she found herself looking at them as he laid them flat on her counter. Working man’s hands. There was an interesting and jagged scar across the top of his right hand that stood out stark against his tanned skin, but otherwise his hands were unadorned.

She knew Hank, of course. Everyone in town knew the O’Haras. But she didn’t know him well. Sophie had been in the same grade as his brother Wyatt, but Hank had graduated several years ahead of them. Then he’d gone off to Denver for college to get a business degree, and when he’d come home he’d opened O’Hara Construction. A lot had changed in Laurel Valley in the ten years since. He’d somehow gone from renovating the storefronts downtown, to opening multimillion-dollar ski resorts on the mountain.

The changes in Laurel Valley, whether you loved them or hated them, had everything to do with the man standing in front of her.

“Sophie Jacobs,” Hank said, giving her the trademark O’Hara grin. “You’re a difficult woman to get in touch with.”

“Not so much,” she said, her eyes skimming the shop to make sure everything was all right and none of her employees needed help. “I’m here every day. Except Sundays.”

She had to give it to the O’Haras. They all had charm in spades, and none of them were hard on the eyes. But by her way of thinking, Hank had always had something a little more than the others. He was tall, a couple of inches over six feet. His shoulders were broad, and she knew under the bulky coat he wore his muscles were well defined. She’d seen him swinging a hammer or operating a heavy piece of machinery on more than one occasion. His dark-blond hair was in need of a trim and there was a scruff of beard on his face that seemed to emphasize the angle of his jaw.

But it was his eyes that held the real power. A soft green the color of the antique glass her mother liked to collect. It was rare not to see other shades of color or variation, but his were crystal clear and seemed all the more captivating framed by dark lashes.

But the Jacobses and the O’Haras didn’t run in the same circles. Not by a long shot. The O’Haras were like royalty in Laurel Valley. And the Jacobses…well, the Jacobses’ claim to fame was that her father had driven off the mountain in a drunken stupor and the explosion had lit up the whole town. She’d been fifteen at the time. The Jacobses and the O’Haras were not the same.

“How’s your family?” he asked, because that’s the first thing any local asked another out of politeness.

“Good,” Sophie said. “I’m meeting Mom, Aunt Lori, and Junie at The Lampstand for dinner. Apparently Mom has big news. She seemed excited.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “She was always nice to us when we came in here when I was a kid. I’m sure it was nerve-wracking having five boys come through here like bulls in a china shop.”

“It’s all part of being a shop owner,” Sophie said, wincing as she heard something fall from the back. “Are you buying something?”

“No,” he said, grinning again. “I figured waiting in line was the only way I’d get to talk to you. I’ve been trying to reach you for a couple of weeks.”

“It’s the busiest season of the year,” she said, not meeting his gaze. Those eyes were just too unsettling, and she’d be darned if she went around fawning like other women who said one look at those eyes made them fall in love. Those women needed to have a little self-respect. And self-control. “Maybe after New Year.”

“I was thinking breakfast. Before the shop opens in the morning. Say around eight o’clock?” He handed her a business card. “That’s my personal cell number there.”

“I don’t understand,” she said, turning the card over in her hand. “What’s this about? Why do you want to meet?”

“I want to buy your shop,” he said.

Her gaze snapped up to his and she met those cool green eyes with fire.

“I was wondering if you were ever going to look me in the eye,” he said, seemingly unfazed. “Do I make you nervous?”

She could feel the anger boiling inside her, and she knew her cheeks were flushed. She sputtered. “You want to buy my shop? You must be crazy. It’s not for sale.”

He just smiled affably, as if they were talking about nothing more important than the weather. She noticed the little dimple at the corner of his mouth, and that he seemed to be unbothered by her anger.

“My youngest brother used to talk about you,” he said, changing the subject so fast she thought she might have whiplash. “His whole junior year all he talked about was how Sophie Jacobs was the most beautiful girl in school, but he said what impressed him the most was when you stood up in the middle of English class and went toe to toe with old Mr. Fortmeyer on how Shakespeare wrote weak male characters who were useless and whiny, and that he would never make you believe that they were heroes when it was obvious it was the women he wrote who had real substance. I never like Mr. Fortmeyer.”

“What?” she asked. “That was more than ten years ago. Have you gone looney in the head?”

He just chuckled. “My brothers might tell you I have. But last time I checked I’m right as rain.”

A woman peeked around Hank with eyes as wide as an owl, and her mouth opened in a little O of surprise.

“Hey, Shannon,” Sophie said. “Come on up and put those on the counter. Looks like you’ve got a haul.”

“You sure?” Shannon asked, already moving to put her items on the counter. “I don’t want to interrupt.”

Of course you do , Sophie thought. She and Shannon had gone to school together, but they’d never run in the same circles. Shannon was a notorious gossip, and there was no doubt in her mind that Shannon had heard every word Hank had spoken to her and couldn’t wait to spread the news.

“Not at all,” Sophie said, feeling her lungs deflate in resignation.

“Hey, Shannon,” Hank said casually, moving to the side so she could maneuver around him. “How’s Drew?”

Shannon looked back and forth between the two as if she wanted to tell them to go ahead and continue their previous conversation but instead she said, “He’s working double shifts at the ski lodge up until the week before Christmas. It’s that time of year. We rented a place down in San Diego with Drew’s parents, so we’re going to spend Christmas there. I think Drew needs a break from the snow before ski season starts.”

“Can’t say I blame him,” Hank said. “He’s the best ski instructor on the mountain. A couple of my brothers went out heli-skiing with him last year. They said it was amazing.”

Shannon rolled her eyes. “He lives for that stuff. Too adventurous for my blood. He does nothing but talk about getting off the mountain during the busy season, and then as soon as we’re gone he can’t wait to get back.”

“Hank, I’m really busy today,” Sophie interrupted, giving Shannon’s purchases her full attention. “I’m sure you have lots of other things to do.”

“I’ve got a few things on my plate,” he said genially. “I don’t want to interrupt your work.”

She almost said, “Too late,” but she was able to bite back the retort in time.

The gossip mill would already be going into overtime. There was no reason to add fuel to the fire by letting Shannon think there was something going on between her and Hank O’Hara. The whole idea was preposterous. The two of them had never spoken more than a couple dozen words to each other in her whole life.

Hank just grinned and then winked at Shannon. “She’s a prickly one.”

Shannon preened and then flirted shamelessly. “I can see she’s just crazy about you.”

“Tell your family hello for me and Merry Christmas,” Sophie said to Hank pointedly. She bagged up Shannon’s books and added the red bow on top.

“Oh, I will,” Hank said, his grin growing even wider. “See you for breakfast in the morning at eight. Let’s meet at the tree. I like sitting outside, and the snow should hold off until the afternoon.”

And then he turned around and walked out of her shop like he hadn’t just upended her entire world.

Shannon cocked her hand on her hip and pursed her lips. If she’d had on a cheerleading uniform and had been holding a pom-pom she’d have looked exactly like she had in high school. Shannon had always been a little dramatic. “ What was all that about? You’re having breakfast with Hank O’Hara? When did that start?”

“It started never,” Sophie said flatly. “I am definitely not having breakfast with Hank O’Hara.”

“Didn’t sound that way to me,” she said. “Lord, that man is fine. All of those boys are good looking, but there’s just a little extra swagger in that one. He is one hundred percent man.” And then Shannon saw the look on Sophie’s face. “Oh, don’t give me that look. I’m married. Not dead.”

“I didn’t say a word,” Sophie said.

“You don’t have to, honey,” she said. “Your face says it for you. And you’ve got it bad.” Shannon took her bag and grinned cheekily. “Enjoy your breakfast in the morning. I’m going to come back next week so I can hear all about it.”

If she had breakfast with Hank O’Hara in the morning in the public square, there wouldn’t be a swinging soul in Laurel Valley who didn’t know about it. The only way to avoid the gossip was to not show up.

She had no time for whatever chaos Hank O’Hara wanted to bring into her life.