Page 48 of The Christmas Blueprint
“Coffee?” he asked after a pause, and Killian felt like Jeffrey was reading from a mental script.
Killian was about to refuse but figured he should make an effort to play nice; maybe it would help him figure out the mayor’s play.
“Yes.” He smiled at Jeffrey’s assistant hovering in the doorway, eyebrows arched in inquiry. “Thank you so much. Black.”
“You know how I like it,” Jeffrey said, and Killian tried not to read any subtext into that. He almost managed, but the sly smile the assistant shared with the mayor destroyed that good intention.
That was going on in offices all across America, Killian thought cynically, even as he mentally pinched himself. It wasn’t like he wasn’t imagining all sorts of impossible things with Sophia.
“We’re all just victims of our human nature,” he muttered, sitting down.
“What’s got you so philosophical this morning?”
Killian did his best to grab back his composure. Jeffrey Bane had never been the sharpest man in the room, but he had an uncanny knack for self-promotion and survival, and Killian couldn’t afford to forget that. He might only be here a year and this job might only be part-time, but it was in city planning—something he wanted to base his career on. And he definitely didn’t want to screw up anything for himself or for Sophia.
“Perhaps just being home again,” he said.
“It has been a long time. None of you Flanagans stayed in Bear Creek. None of you stayed in trade work.”
Statement meant as a double-edged insult.
Here we go.
“Except Riley.”
“Except Riley,” Jeffrey repeated, looking like Killian had jammed a sliced lemon in his mouth.
“You didn’t call me in to talk to me about my sister,” Killian said, settling back into the chair.
“No. Although—” He broke off, clearly thinking better of what he’d been about to say.
Killian forced himself to relax, limb by limb. This meeting would go south fast if he looked like a lion about to pounce. Riley was a successful business owner with a creative drive to put her own stamp on a third-generation local business. She could fight her own battles.
“You were saying?” Killian encouraged softly.
“Tell me about the progress you’ve made on the blueprints.” The mayor switched tactics. “Has Zhang agreed to donate the building yet? I’m meeting with the city attorney and tax advisor this afternoon.”
“That’s a little premature,” Killian objected. “I’m not even officially on the city dime until the first week in January.”
“So you only work when you’re being paid?” Jeffrey’s lip curled scornfully.
Killian smiled. That wasn’t true, but he hadn’t been born into one of the wealthiest families in Southern Oregon. “Most people expect to get paid for work,” he said. “And not everyone comes into the world attached to a trust fund.”
“No, they don’t.” Jeffrey Bane preened as if he had done something special outside being born. “Already angling for a raise before you’ve even started work?”
“No. And yes, I’ve looked at the building and set up an office there,” he admitted.
The assistant returned with their coffees. Jeffrey looked pissed about the interruption, but Killian found himself grateful. He had to do better keeping his cool with arrogant pissants. He’d met with clients who had more money than the mayor could imagine and not gotten so wound up. But he’d been on a team, and it hadn’t been personal. Whoever had invented the pithy excuse ‘it’s just business, nothing personal,’ had been wrong. Jeffrey made everything personal. The world of Bear Creek and everyone in it had to revolve around him.
Hunter. Harlow. And now Sophia. They were counting on him. And perhaps the citizens of Bear Creek might be counting on him a little. It was an alien thought but not totally out of bounds of possibility.
“And?” Jeffrey asked impatiently.
“Thank you,” Killian said to the assistant and sipped his coffee, holding the mug with the city’s emblem like a tow rope.
“Anything else?” Jeffrey’s assistant stood rather closer to the mayor than seemed natural to Killian.
“You can go,” the mayor said, not even looking at her.
