Page 42 of The Christmas Blueprint

Sophia plucked the black one off the rack as well as the raspberry one.

“Looks like I need to order more,” she said. “I will add that to my pre-opening list. So…” she faced Harlow. “Do you want to do the honors or me?”

“I can just put it back in a ponytail.”

“I can do better than that,” Sophia said.

“Do you do your own hair?” Harlow asked curiously, looking at the small braids with jeweled clips that led back to a low, twisted bun.

“Yep,” Sophia said. “And if you want, I have a spray I can put on after so that you’ll have a hint of fairy sparkle in your hair.”

Harlow’s eyes lit up, and Sophia felt an answering spark. She’d never been one of those women who’d known early on that they wanted kids. She’d seen how hard her mom worked, how little time she had for herself. Sophia had imagined herself as an artist, holed up in her studio with her paints and her crafts supplies and her imagination.

Enrique had wanted a large family. That had been one of her hesitations about saying yes to his marriage proposal.

She did enjoy working with the high school interns. Maybe that would be enough, but for some reason, the thought of staying single, never loving again, never being loved, didn’t hit right this morning. It didn’t feel as comfortable as it had for the past year or so.

“Do you want a tutorial?” she asked.

“Like YouTube? Dad looked at some of those with me to make braids. We didn’t have enough time to get good yet.”

“When he gets back,” Sophia said lightly, saying a quick prayer for Hunter and his unit’s safe return. “And maybe you and I can try a few things so you can teach your dad. Sit here.” She patted her barstool-style chair that could rise up and down and spin.

Sophia created a narrow French braid, framing Harlow’s face. As she worked, she was hyper-conscious of Killian standing a little behind her and off to the side so that she could both feel his energy and see his lean, fit form. If she stepped back, she’d come into contact with his warmth, and every nerve in her body clamored for that. Her desire dried her mouth and made her fingers clumsy. She was so aware of Killian. She should have flipped on the Christmas carols as she found herself listening for his breath.

She breathed in shallowly, hoping his woodsy scent wouldn’t amp the effect he had on her. It did. She closed her eyes for a moment to gather her focus and secured the side French braid with an elastic from a collection she always kept in her purse. Then she showed Harlow how to gather her hair in a bun maker, smooth her hair out to the end and then roll it up into a bun. She closed the clip to secure the bun and then put the scrunchie over it.

“Close your eyes,” she said as she reached for the glitter body spray.

Harlow complied, her small, heart-shaped face looking far too serious for such a young girl. Sophia did a light spray around Harlow’s head, loving the way the gold and silver glitter hung in the air, defying gravity before settling onto Harlow’s slicked-back hair.

“What do you think?” She spun the chair around so that Harlow could see her hair from several angles.

“Wow,” Harlow and Killian breathed at the same time.

Sophia felt her blood turn to heated maple syrup. How often did she have a chance to make two people’s day with such a simple act?

She hadn’t helped with anyone’s hair since Riley—trying to get her ready for a middle school dance.

“You’re amazing,” Killian breathed, looking at her like she really did rock something special.

Sophia’s heart clenched. She’d wanted Killian to look at her like that for the entirety of her teens. Fifteen years later and she was just as susceptible now as she’d been then. Not okay.

She did a quick, playful pump above his head. “For good luck on your unofficial first day at your new job.”

He frowned a little, trying to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror, but at over six three, he had to stoop to see, and a hint of glitter on a man as masculine as Killian was only going to prove more appealing to half the town’s population.

Except me.

“Kids are going to think I have a mom.” Harlow smiled at her reflection.

And just like that, reality slapped Sophia’s cheek.

She met Killian’s rounded gaze in the mirror, secretly communicating their feelings—another hit because she hadn’t even had that with Enrique, this silent communication of couples who’d been together and knew each other’s thoughts.

But she felt like she had a big bay window into her soul that Killian could easily peer into. And she had one into his, but she had to remember who Killian was—the man with one foot out the door and his eyes on a distant prize.

“Thank you,” he said softly, handing her the coffee. “I’m going to take Harlow for a quick breakfast and then to school. Can I swing by afterward? I want to hear your ideas about the project and run a couple of things past you. I know you have a busy morning. But the mayor wants to meet with me at ten this morning, and I didn’t want to go in blind.”

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