Page 39 of The Christmas Blueprint

“Mom used to say that,” Riley remembered.

“And she was right,” Killian said, a little amazed that the sledgehammer heaviness didn’t hit his chest this time when he remembered his mom. “I’m not going to have a fling with a woman who’s hometown to her bones and who was engaged to one of my best friends when my plans are to leave town in a year. You should trust me.”

“I should.” Riley sounded sad. “But I barely know you anymore,” she said. “You’ve separated yourself so much from me, from all of us, that I don’t know who you’ve become.”

Somehow, that hurt more than her concern that he’d casually use Sophia for a fling while he was here.

“I’m me, Riles.” He hit his chest zipped in the puffer jacket, and the thump resonated. “The same me I’ve always been.”

He searched her expression, needing to see that she understood, that she believed in him.

“I’ve got this,” he said, and even as the words spilled out of his mouth, he heard the arrogance of them. What did he have? How could he control someone else’s feelings? He could barely comprehend all the ones tumbling over each other in his heart.

Riley nodded, sighed, and ran her program one last time, smiling at the result.

Zhang Shi strode toward them quickly, two large traveler cups of something steamy in his gloved hands. Riley, computer in one hand, hugged him with her other and gazed up at him, love shining so brightly on her face. Zhang’s mouth tilted in a smile before he kissed her. Riley smiled, seeming lighter.

“You made it.”

“Barely, but I told you I would.”

She took the cup and sipped. Her eyes drifted shut in pleasure. “Peppermint mocha,” she said. “You remembered.”

“I’ll always remember your favorites and what’s important to you,” Zhang said seriously, greeting Killian with a nod. “It’s good to be home.”

Riley leaned into Zhang, took another sip of her drink, and assessed Killian. “It is, isn’t it?” she said. “Home. That’s why I struggle to understand you, Killian. Bear Creek is your home, but it never seemed like it was enough.”

*

“Someone should hopup there and take his mic,” Harlow said.

Sophia had been thinking the same thing for the past ten minutes. Did Jeffrey really think anyone here had come to listen to him? Probably not even his parents, whom she’d spotted talking to different business owners while ignoring their son’s speech. Maybe that was part of his problem, why he pushed himself into every town happening. He needed the attention.

Sad.

But irritating.

And suffocating.

But at least Jeffrey’s droning on had helped clear her head of what had barely not happened in the doorway of her shop. She had almost kissed Killian. Excitement warred with shock. What had she been thinking? She didn’t need to jump into another heartbreak, especially one holding a sign saying ‘gone in a year.’

“And why does everyone keep asking you how you are doing and telling you that you’re in their prayers?” Harlow demanded, her voice edging with worry. “You sick?”

“Just the opposite,” she said firmly, wrangling her thoughts back to Harlow and the moment.

“Huh?”

“I feel great,” she said, and then felt maybe that sounded too dismissive, but how much was she supposed to say to a tween she barely knew? She was already falling a little in love with Harlow and her skilled side-eye and sassy commentary about the town her dad had just moved her to before he had to take off again. Her heart bled for the young girl, but she seemed strong.

So do you, even when things are falling apart.

“I think it’s hard for people to understand or accept that…well.” She blew out a breath. “I was engaged, but my fiancé, Enrique Reyes, a smoke jumper, was killed fighting one of the fires in Southern Oregon two summers ago, and I think people still see me as grieving.”

“You loved him?” Harlow asked.

Such a simple question. “So much,” she said. “He believed in me when others were full of doubt.”

Harlow stared at her with the same intense scrutiny she remembered from her few interactions with Hunter.

---