Page 73 of The Christmas Blueprint

“We can at least agree that they met without me, and if they didn’t have an agreement, they certainly had an understanding. Killian knew Jeffrey had a totally different plan for the space. He knew that Jeffrey was going to shut us down before we were even in the game.” Sophia warmed up to her gripe. “And he kept me in the dark. He encouraged me and my ideas and then just tossed me under the bus.”

She sucked in a shaky breath and blinked fast several times. She would not cry. Definitely not over Killian. Besides, he would be leaving Bear Creek once he approved a tower of apartments and condos along the public riverfront—how original.

“Have you talked to him about what happened? Have you given Killian a chance to explain?”

Sophia ignored Riley’s plaintive questions and instead stared out her shop windows that fronted Main Street. She’d already set up the arts and craft area for Harlow and her friends and any other kids or parents who wanted to join. That way she wouldn’t have to see Killian and risk succumbing to his attempts to talk to her. So far she’d been strong. She’d blocked his number and was busy when he brought Harlow by.

Mature?

No.

She still was technically on the planning commission, although they were apparently only there to rubber-stamp the mayor’s greedy, self-serving schemes.

She saw Killian and Harlow walking down the street toward her store.

“Talk to him,” Riley urged. “He helped on your booth at the park and helped other vendors for hours today.”

Sophia worried her bottom lip. “I feel so betrayed,” she whispered. “And stupid.”

“Sophia.” Riley hugged her and laid her head on her shoulder. “I know. I felt betrayed last Christmas when none of my brothers came home and my dad and stepmom and aunt and uncle took a long vacation and then both ended up going the snowbird route and buying condos in Palm Desert. You were there for me. Let me be there for you, but also at least clear the air with Killian. He cares for you—crazy cares. At least let him explain, if only for closure for you both.”

“Okay. I will,” Sophia finally said, her heart lurching in alarm. “Just not now. Not so publicly.”

“I can watch the store.”

“You are relentless,” Sophia said.

“It’s my secret power.” Riley grinned.

Sophia busied herself around the store, secretly hoping Killian would leave Harlow crafting, but she was equally worried that he’d leave, which she knew made no sense.

A few overheard lines had ruined what she felt was building between them. She knew she’d been played, but it was time to adult it up and let him speak, and then she’d tell him how she felt so they’d both have closure. She’d refused to hide after Enrique had died. She’d rise up now as well.

Riley was right.

As she walked outside, Killian, crouching down at the table listening to Harlow and Thomas talk about what they were making, noticed her and immediately stood up.

“Soph, please, give me the chance to explain.” He held out his hand, his face so tortured and sincere that she felt her walls crumble. “Please,” he said. “It didn’t happen how you thought.”

Nervously she licked her bottom lip. This wasn’t the place or the time, but now with him looking at her like that, Sophia wanted to take his hand and tug him upstairs to her apartment and hear him out. Give him a chance to break up this cold ball of lead she seemed to have swallowed.

“You hurt me, Killian,” she said softly.

“I know I did, but I wanted to protect you, to give your idea a chance to bloom and flower.”

“I don’t want to be protected. I want to be an equal. A partner. On your team.”

“You are.” He held her hand up to his cheek. “You are so much more than that, Sophia, surely you realize that now.”

“Killian…” She didn’t get a chance to finish because a traffic officer in a modified golf cart pulled up.

“Ma’am, you need to clear this up off the street.” He hiked himself out of his seat. “Scram, kids. This, whatever it is, is impeding traffic.”

“No, it’s not,” Sophia argued. “I have a permit to use this spot in front of my store for a special event this week.”

“Doesn’t look so special to me.” He adjusted his belt. “But anyway, permit’s been revoked.” The traffic cop looked bored. “Orders of the mayor. No sidewalk sales or vending, and no booths on the sidewalk or street.”

“My space is designated and falls within my permit’s rules.”

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