Page 56 of The Christmas Blueprint

Everything seemed a game to the clever, sharp-tongued, enigmatic octogenarian.

And Sophia continued to come out on the losing side. Elaine would always end the conversation after coffee and whatever treat Sophia had brought with a smiling ‘no’—her paintings were her family.

Judging by Elaine’s studio and huge, rambling century-plus farmhouse, she didn’t part with much.

Elaine had three ‘granddaughters.’ In her mid to late fifties, she’d adopted them as young girls or preteens out of the foster system and raised them. They’d all attended college and had various careers. Sophia was closest to Ruby, who now worked as an executive chef in a high-end restaurant in Portland. She’d drive down to visit her grandmother at least once a month. She’d also text Sophia and asked her to check on Elaine every now and then.

It was a pleasure because Elaine had been her first art teacher. Bear Creek Elementary hadn’t had the funding for an art teacher, but Elaine had volunteered to teach art classes and train parents in an art docent program. The visits were especially poignant now since Sophia’s own grandmother had unexpectedly passed a couple of years ago.

Sophia closed her eyes against a well of hot tears—just as unexpected as the recent deaths had been. She breathed in and out, counting, and listening to the opening hook of the Mumford & Sons “Beloved” that came on her satellite radio as if the station psychically knew what she needed.

Eyes closed to shut out the world and protect her makeup—she’d made more of an effort today, but she didn’t want to think about why—Sophia sang softly along to the lyrics.

The tap on her window bolted her upright, and she banged her thighs on her steering wheel and head on the window.

“Sorry.” Killian winced for her.

She stared at him, feeling totally out of her body for a moment. His eyes were a lively green. His cheekbones stark along with his shoving, angular jaw, but his lips were full and soft, almost feminine as if to counter all that hard-cut masculinity.

Beautiful.

And he was smiling.

Not fair. Sophia had always been a visual person, and Killian was a feast for her eyes.

Outside it was cold. Her breath fogged the window, and Killian started to blur around his sharp edges. His tousled hair had a dusting of snow.

“Is that for me?” Killian asked, pointing at the bakery box on the passenger seat, his eyes alight, and Sophia was tempted to say yes to pretty much anything he suggested.

He’d always had that boyish charm, the eagerness to jump in and help, hold a door, smile, compliment, carry packages or say something kind to a child or older person needing a boost.

He’s leaving.

He’d only been in town for a week, yet her heart was just as susceptible as it had been when she’d been young and he’d been hopelessly out of reach.

“No,” she said smartly, opening the door of her Jeep. “They are for Elaine True.”

“How is she?” Killian held open the door for her. “Her house is one of the reasons I became an architect. Really, not even a spare pastry?”

“No. I need to use all my persuasive skills with Elaine.” Sophia looked down at the hand Killian so naturally offered to help her out of her Jeep. There was no reason for her heart to kick up. None. “I’m trying to persuade her to part with a few of her livestock paintings. She has a series of these Orloff roosters that just kill me—so quirky and beautiful and colorful,” she said, trying to distract herself from Killian’s potent draw.

She slipped her hand into his and then unfolded herself from her car so that she stood beside him, close, only the door between them. His eyes searched hers and, feeling like she was too much of an open book, she looked down a little—Killian’s mouth had always appealed way too much.

He didn’t see her as a woman, an available, interested woman. He saw her as Riley’s sidekick. Enrique’s fiancée. And he’d probably be shocked out of his steel-toe work boots if she made a move, which she wouldn’t because he was leaving.

L.E.A.V.I.N.G.

“Are you really that afraid, Soph to take this next step?” His voice deepened and roughened, and her attention shot back up to his eyes where it should have stayed, but there was more danger there. The green was darker, searching. And she had to fight the impulse to cup his cheek.

Could he read her mind now?

“Nooooo,” she drawled out. “I do feel a little like I’m on a roller coaster ratcheting up the first hill,” she confessed, her fingers tightening on his. “I’m not sure what comes next. Fear. But also excitement.”

Confusion clouded his expression. “I’m not that judgmental,” he said. “But if you really want to turn what is essentially a vintage storage facility into a community hub and business laboratory—and I’ll admit, I am taken with the idea and the challenge, but…” He blew out a breath that feathered her face, and Sophia leaned closer to him, but the car door hampered the move.

He took a step back. “You brought your ideas, right?” Killian was suddenly all business, and Sophia, who had hardly ever blushed as a teen, felt her face heat and warmth flush over her body.

The sketches. That was what he was talking about. Not her feelings.

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