Page 60 of The Christmas Blueprint

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“I’d forgotten justhow beautiful the valley is,” Killian admitted several days later as he and Sophia and Harlow walked through some of the forested area above Zhang’s Fire Ridge Vineyard.

He drew in a deep breath and tilted his head back to look at the sky.

“You’ve become a full-on city boy,” Sophia teased. Her two buckets with the various greenery cuttings were nearly filled and getting heavy. Killian carried three buckets and made them seem weightless.

He didn’t answer. Instead he bent down, and before Sophia could react, he threw a loosely packed snowball at her.

“What…?” She spit out a mouthful of snow. She hadn’t been in a snowball fight since she was a kid. Riley had loved them. She and her brothers had battled it out with Sophia and her brothers more than a few times.

“I’m not ready,” she said as he scooped another mound of snow and molded it into a ball. She’d stuffed her gloves into the pockets of her puffer coat while she’d been cutting swags of various evergreens.

He beaned her with the snowball anyway, and icy cold slid down her back. “This is war,” she groused.

“War demands action, Gonzales. Not talk, talk, talk.”

“Primitive,” she said, and then squealed and dropped both her buckets as a snowball hit her mid chest.

“Harlow, some help.” She could barely speak around her laughter as she scooped up some snow and quickly packed it before hurling it in Killian’s direction.

She didn’t know if she’d hit him or not because she had another face full of snow. Sophia spat out the snow and blinked. Her hands felt numbed by cold, and she was definitely losing. Harlow, who was watching a Steller’s blue jay scold them from a lower tree branch, had her bucket filled with a few twigs, winterberry holly plants, and Cottage Hill holly along with pinecones.

Harlow carefully put her bucket down and happily squatted in the snow to form ammunition.

“Harlow, come to my side,” Killian encouraged. Harlow looked back and forth between them, clearly torn.

“Girls versus boys, just like the old days.” Riley, who’d been helping gather greens higher up along the ridge of the foothills of Mount Ashland, came barreling down the mountain, running at full speed, and pelting Killian, one-two-three as she ran toward him.

“I thought we were…ugh.” Zhang, running behind her gurgled off as Riley spun and beaned him with a snowball.

Riley bought her enough time so Sophia could duck behind a tree with Harlow and create some snowballs. The fight was fast and funny, and Harlow mainly threw her snowballs up in the air and then stuck her tongue out to catch the snow raining down, and the simple joy on her face tugged at all of them.

Killian stopped first, staring at Harlow with a look of surprised awe. Sophia’s snowball hit him dead center in his chest, and he absently brushed the snow off, his attention still on Harlow.

Zhang wrapped Riley in a one-arm hug and pulled her tight against his body. He dropped a kiss on her head, and Riley stared up at him in adoration.

“Is this an official truce?” Zhang asked. “Riley got me good last year. My first snowball war.”

“One of many firsts,” Riley said. “And the truce is temporary. Do we have enough greens for your class tomorrow?”

And boom. Just like that, Sophia’s light mood drooped. She was really going to publicly teach a wreath-making class, not just put them together at her dining room table.

“Almost,” Sophia said. “I’m going to buy a few accent plants from a florist in Medford.” She had hoped that the florist would be able to assist, but she was booked for a winter wedding. “But I should get extra. The sign-ups keep rolling in.”

“Twenty people are signed up, and we only posted the class on Sophia’s store’s website and social media and on Bear Creek’s Facebook two days ago,” Riley exulted.

“That’s awesome. Congrats.” Killian looked at her. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just a lot of people,” Sophia said. “And there’s just one of me.”

“You’ll be fine,” he said. “You’re a natural teacher. Harlow and I will help you set up for the class. Tess is going to be pouring wine from Fire Ridge. It’s a party.”

Sophia swallowed her nerves. It was going to be fun. She did want to show off the possibilities of the Mill Market to the community. And Riley was helping by creating a visual path to the building with lights, and Killian was helping by building the rustic farmhouse tables where people could create their wreaths.

“I just would have preferred to be one of the participants, enjoying the class—not being out in front,” Sophia admitted.

“Can’t say I blame you there,” Zhang said, with a wry smile. “Between Riley and Jackson, the co-founder of my company, I’m always shoved out of my comfort zone.”

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