Page 16 of The Christmas Blueprint

“Sit,” the mayor said irritably as Killian prowled around his office, unsure why he’d been summoned.

Killian, on the second floor of the historic building that housed all of the city offices, looked out the window and spotted Riley’s red beast of a classic truck pull up to a curb along Main Street and lurch to a stop. Immediately, his sister, her rust-colored wild hair pulled back in a messy bun, popped out of her truck and dashed across the street. She must be bringing a coffee to Sophia. He smiled. Some things never changed. They’d always been thick as thieves.

Thieves? Why that analogy? Riley was the most honest person he knew, and she’d make a terrible criminal because she’d excitedly blurt out the scheme to the first person she saw.

“Why are you looming?” Jeffrey demanded. “It’s Thanksgiving tomorrow. I’m fighting a hangover and not in the mood for meetings or small talk. Sit.”

Killian turned around. First, TMI. Second, Jeffrey Bane had texted him to meet him here at seven a.m. He’d wanted no part of this meeting. But he also knew Jeffrey was a petty tyrant by reputation. He wanted to avoid getting on his bad side—was there a good one?—before he’d even officially started.

He sat down on the mid-century-modern armchair, amused at how low it was so that Jeffrey appeared to be on some sort of dais. Insecure much?

“I want you to know I didn’t want to hire you.”

Before Killian could answer, his office door opened and a cute, very young blonde with a pert nose, scarlet matte lips, and eyelash extensions that could generate their own weather system bustled in carrying a pot of tea, several bags steeping, and one cup and saucer.

Another power move that went off the rails in Killian’s opinion because hot, green tea didn’t seem like a good beverage to flex with, but maybe Jeffrey was striving for an English baron vibe.

“That’s an interesting opening,” he said and settled back into the chair, owning the position to the point where he crossed one leg over the other, his ankle resting on his knee. His size made the chair look miniature.

Yeah, I’m on to your pathetically stupid power games, buddy.

“It’s obvious why,” Jeffrey said, pouring himself a cup of tea and blowing on it. Of course, Killian was offered nothing to drink.

“Since I was hired, it’s not obvious to me,” Killian said easily.

“The city council forced my hand,” Jeffrey said, expression sour. He took a sip of tea. “And our city charter demanded that we have a city planning commissioner on board once we moved to incorporate land beyond our original boundaries and our population hit ten thousand.”

“Big time,” Killian said softly.

“Exactly why I didn’t want to hire you.” Jeffrey glared and put down his tea. “You take nothing in this town seriously, and you change jobs like other men change their Jockeys.”

Again, TMI. “I certainly hope less frequently than that.”

“It was an analogy,” Jeffrey said disdainfully and picked up his tea again, palming it. Killian remembered his mother doing that with her coffee in the mornings while he and his brothers ate the breakfast she’d prepared, and she’d listen to them talk about their day ahead.

Unexpectedly, nostalgia ripped through him. He’d known being back in Bear Creek would trigger memories and emotions he’d done his best to banish.

“The point is, how can we expect you to design an effective growth plan when you couldn’t wait to get out of town and haven’t been back?”

“I am a highly educated professional,” Killian reminded him, stung that Jeffrey would think he didn’t know what he was doing. “My family has deep roots in Bear Creek, so I’m not a stranger. And the contract was for part-time and for one year.” Jeffrey could hardly expect to get a superstar urban planner out of San Francisco or LA or Seattle on the embarrassment they were offering as starting pay, especially with a year contract.

But the year suited him fine. A year was the longest time Hunter would be deployed.

“And the contract starts in January, so I’m not sure why you called this meeting five weeks early.”

“You arrived five weeks early.” Jeffrey glared.

Was Jeffrey Bane spying on him? It didn’t take a genius to know Bane felt threatened. Probably by anything he couldn’t hard press his thumb on.

“The holidays,” he lied. “Family.”

Jeffrey scowled, his brows angled down along with the corners of his mouth, and his eyes glittered.

His hypocrisy hit him hard. He’d left his family. What had Hunter been thinking, enlisting him when he’d discovered years after the fact that he’d had a daughter?

That you’re his last remaining best friend he could trust.

But Jeffrey didn’t need to know his plans. It would likely be one more strike against him.

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