Page 57 of The Christmas Blueprint

Sophia wanted to flee, but no, she was a professional. They were two professionals meeting in a workplace space, sharing ideas.

“Yes, of course,” she said, quietly retrieving her satchel from behind the driver seat. “But they are really rough. Just free-floating ideas. Sketches I made in my spare time when I was imagining…”

Killian was on the move, his long legs striding toward the door, which he rolled open and stood back so she could enter first.

He’d always been a gentleman.

She did not look him in the eye as she passed through. She could do this. Be calm. Professional. Pitch her ideas and get out of here to her appointments and her store. She shouldn’t feel exposed.

“Oh. Wow.” She paused a few steps in. Killian bumped into her, and Sophia stumbled in another step before his strong arm around her halted her progress. Sophia held her breath. She would not inhale Killian Flanagan. She would not lean into his warmth and savor his strength, but dang he made it hard to resist him.

“I miss being held,” she whispered.

Her hair rose on the back of her neck as her scalp prickled. Killian stiffened, but he didn’t pull away.

“Pretend I didn’t say that,” she whispered urgently.

“Say what?” He stepped away with an exaggerated care like she was an unexploded bomb.

She could feel the imprint of his body on her thighs, bottom, back.

Shake it off. You’re being ridiculous. Melodramatic.

And the most embarrassing of all: needy.

Getting the vacant seat on the planning commission, running point on this project was supposed to be her proving herself—her strength, her purpose, her business and marketing acumen. Her talent. She couldn’t need anyone, especially a man who had never once showed one molecule of attraction toward her.

“You’ve been busy,” she said, noting the blue tape on the ground, several bamboo and material screens, dividing up the space along with what looked like several different sizes of large silver metal livestock feeders that Killian had put casters on. There was also a huge stack of what looked like various sizes of reclaimed lumber and an area tented off with thick plastic tarps.

“That’s a work area.” Killian pointed to the hanging tarps. “And these are portable space dividers. Riley found the screens in one of Zhang’s barns. I ordered these from the feed store. And the reclaimed lumber is from Riley’s storage shed. I was going to make some community farmhouse tables.”

“You’re going to make tables.” She stared at him.

“I like to make things. I’m not just brainy.”

“How did I never know this about you?”

Now it was Killian’s turn to look uncomfortable. “I took woodshop in high school.”

“Yeah, so did I. We made birdhouses. A chessboard. A box. Stuff like that.”

Killian jammed his hands in his back pockets and rocked back on his heels. Sophia’s interest climbed. He seemed defensive. In truth, she’d loved woodshop in high school, but her brothers had dismissed her efforts and her mother had thought it a waste of time and worried she’d hurt herself. And while she’d been rebellious enough to sign up with Riley once, she’d wilted under the family pressure.

“C’mon, Soph.” Killian gestured toward her satchel. “Give it up. Let me see what you got.”

“These are rough.” She clutched the satchel to her chest.

“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to hang them in the Louvre.”

After a moment where her fear battled her embarrassment over how glaring her insecurities were, she opened the satchel and removed the large art pad. She was being ridiculously precious and protective.

Killian smiled. “I’m not so bad. I’ve never bitten anyone, and I’m up-to-date with all my shots.”

“I just wasn’t planning on showing these to anyone.”

“Why not? How can you get your point across if you don’t express it? I’m a visual man.”

That should not sound so sexual, especially as Killian was flipping through her work, pausing longer than was comfortable at each picture. Still holding the sketch pad, he walked around the building, consulting both. Sophia waited nervously, chewing her bottom lip, not sure if she should follow him or stay where she was or head out to run her errands.

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