Page 63 of The Christmas Blueprint

“It’s good to see you back in town. You here for the holidays or have you moved back for good?” David asked.

“I’m…” Killian paused, and a strange look passed over his face. “I’m here for…I took the city planner job,” he said.

Sophia felt like she was holding her breath and trying not to wince when he said the familiar rest—that it was part-time, that it was only a year. But Killian said nothing.

“That’s great. So you must be working on the biggest eyesore in the Rogue Valley: the old mill.”

“Helping out,” Killian said easily. “I was going to get Harlow a hot chocolate at the Caffeinated Goat. You want to come, get something for your son?”

The two kids had their heads together over the worktable, talking softly, their expressions adult serious. David’s expression warmed even as he looked a cross between relieved and sad.

“Is it okay if they have a little time together?” he asked. “Thomas really likes making things, and he and Harlow have a sweet little…” He waved his hand awkwardly. “Thomas struggles a little socially,” he said in a low voice. “Harlow joining his class has been a godsend.”

Sophia realized he was talking to her. She’d been totally paying attention to what Killian was saying only. “Sure, I’ll keep an eye on them both.”

Weird that she hadn’t recognized David. He’d been only a year ahead of her in school. And he had a nine-year-old. For some reason, that hit her differently today.

“Want anything?” Killian asked. “The usual or should I surprise you?”

“Surprise me,” Sophia said impulsively, massively curious as to what a Killian surprise would be and what it would taste like.

Two more women entered the store as Killian and David walked out. But her mom made a beeline to her before she could do anything but greet her new customers.

“Sophia,” her mom said, urgently, her gaze wary on the two kids within earshot but who looked to be engrossed in the gnome-making lesson. “I’m worried that you are pushing yourself too hard. Getting in too deep with…you know who.” She glanced out the doorway of Sophia’s store where Killian and David crossed the street and headed into the Caffeinated Goat.

“Mom, Killian and I work together.”

“It seems like more than that.” She crossed her arms.

Sophia knew what was expected: a contrite denial. A promise to be careful of her heart. But she couldn’t quite get there.

“Your father and I…”

“Mom, I’m turning thirty-one next month. I’m a business owner. A member of the chamber of commerce and on the Bear Creek Christmas Market planning group. And now a member of the Bear Creek Planning Commission. I know what I’m doing.”

“Too much is what you’re doing. Sweetheart,hija…”

Sophia laughed and hugged her mom. Whenever she dug out her smattering of Spanish, Sophia knew her mom was well aware she was riding the wrong horse and wouldn’t cross the finish line. Sophia had studied Spanish in high school, and she and Enrique had practiced together because his family was fluent even after generations in Oregon, but hers—here just as long—had ditched the mother tongue a couple of generations ago, although not all the traditions. Guilt lingered over that, but apparently not enough for anyone to crack open a textbook except her.

“I love that you’re worried, but I’m happy. I’m busy.”

“I know. I just feel like you are too busy. And I miss having you around the house and taking care of you.” Frowning, she picked at Sophia’s fishtail braid—likely too messy for her tastes.

“Mom, I moved back to my apartment over the store more than a year ago.”

“I know, but that boy Killian…you always liked him, way too much, and he has a restless spirit.”

“Killian’s a man, and so what? Maybe that’s his draw.”

Was it? In her fantasies, Killian was definitely not wandering from city to city picking up a degree here or freelance job there.

“We’re working together,” she said firmly. “And yes, I like him,” she said firmly.

“Sophia,” she breathed, “I don’t want you hurt again.”

“Mom.” She held both of her mother’s hands. “You can’t control that. I can’t control that. I’d rather be alive and live my life, getting hurt every now and then, than hiding away, scared, and protecting myself vigilantly.”

Her mom sighed as if the weight of her worry just became too heavy. “You are like yourabuelita.”

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