“Maybe, but you were here, it came to you, and you saved the day yet again.”
“Don’t make me out to be a hero, Sophie. I’m not.”
She gave him a small smile, but for the first time since he’d known her, that smile held a sadness to it. The realization that he’d done that gutted him.
“Real heroes never think they are.” She reached up, touched his cheek, then seemed to realize what she was doing and let her hand fall away. “I hope you have a merry Christmas, Cole. For whatever it’s worth, through my eyes, you’ve always been my hero.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Quit that,” Isabelle ordered from beside Sophie as they finished cleaning the shop before closing it for the holidays.
“What?” Sophie asked, wiping down a countertop and tossing some stray threads into the trash bin.
“Thinking about him.”
If only it was that easy.
“I miss him,” she admitted, not bothering to deny her sister’s claim. Isabelle knew her too well not to suspect the truth.
Isabelle sighed. “I know. You’re almost as sad a sight as that cat hanging around the house.”
Sophie’s mouth dropped open. “You know about Stitches?”
Isabelle rolled her eyes. “Did you seriously think I wouldn’t notice? He’s on our front porch every night, along with a box, blanket, water, and food bowl. What was I supposed to do? Just ignore him?”
Sophie’s eyes widened. “You’ve been feeding him, too?”
“No,” Isabelle quickly denied. “I’ve told him over and over I’m not going to feed him because he doesn’t live at our house, and to not give me those pitiful meows. But somehow, I still end up petting him—”
Giving up all pretense of cleaning, Sophie’s mouth fell open. “Stitches lets you pet him?”
Isabelle gave her a duh look.
“I can’t sit on the porch without the thing rubbing all up against my legs until I let him in my lap.” Her gaze narrowed. “Why? Am I not supposed to pet him? Please don’t tell me something is wrong with him. I don’t like him, but I…well, I don’t want anything to happen to him, either.”
“Nothing is wrong with him, as far as I know,” Sophie hastened to say, still staring at her sister. “I’m just surprised Stitches lets you pet him, that’s all.”
“What’s that mean? You think he only likes you?”
Sophie watched the play of emotions passing over her sister’s face as she went back to cleaning with a suspicious vengeance, and realization dawned.
“Oh my goodness, you say you don’t like Stitches, but you do!”
“I didn’t say that,” Isabelle defended, her cheeks going pink as she averted her gaze from Sophie and focused on straightening a bin of discounted thread spools.
“You didn’t have to. Stitches has you wrapped around his furry paw.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. The fact that I’ve been petting that pesky cat for the past couple of weeks doesn’t mean anything.”
“The past couple of weeks?”
Leaning against the countertop, Isabelle shrugged. “Quit making a big deal of it. I am not wrapped around that cat’s paw.”
“Yeah, well, for the record, Stitches has yet to let me pet him and I’m the one feeding him.”
Straightening, Isabelle’s eyes widened, then a grin spread across her face. “Seriously?”
Sophie nodded.