Page 1 of One Small Spark (Love in Sunshine #4)

ONE

WREN

Is this what it’s like to claim an Oscar onstage? It’s got to be a close second.

I walk up the pine tree-lined residential street carrying two boxed pies, my body fizzing with triumph.

After months of gentle prodding and a tiny bit of bribery—the pies, obviously—I finally snagged an invite to one of the most mysterious clubs in Sunshine, Oregon.

Today is the day. At long last, I get to sit in on Ada and Isabel’s smutty book club.

To be clear, I adored their romance pick for the month—a Highlander hero, this one wheedling his way into marriage via blackmailing his intended with her embarrassing letters to an imaginary beau.

It automatically went on my favorites list. But I’ve pictured Ada and Isabel’s secret meetings as something subversive for too long for me to just stop referring to them as risqué.

Even if I’m now included in the get-togethers.

I’ve got a dopey smile on my face when I ring the bell of the classic single-level ranch house.

I fully expect every woman in this club to be at least twice my age, but I haven’t been this excited to be part of a group since middle school.

Maybe it’s silly, but it’s mine . And I need something that’s all mine right about now.

Ada swings the entry door open wide. Her chic gray bob accentuates her sharp eyes and bright smile. “Well, if it isn’t the newest member of our little enclave. Welcome in, Wren.”

She waves me inside, and I step over the threshold into the cozy home.

Enclave . I like that. I’m one of the lucky few included in their super-secret, ultra-exclusive?—

“ Callahan ?”

Several older women mingling throughout the open-concept living room and kitchen turn at my outburst. But standing in the middle of them wearing a blue flannel shirt layered over a black tee like a grunge rocker among cardigan-clad grandmas is Shepherd Callahan.

How is this my life?

For a second, he’s frozen mid-conversation, a polite smile stuck on his face. But his smile morphs into a smirk I know all too well.

That smirk sets my teeth on edge and makes my heart rate kick up as I wait for his next move. He’s way too amused, like he knows something I don’t. I hate him knowing things I don’t. And right now, I’m so far out of the loop, I’m not entirely sure what the loop is .

Ada leads me to the kitchen table and I set down the pies, but I don’t take my gaze off Callahan. What the heck is he even doing here? I doubt any of these ladies had a bicycle break down on their way to book club and had to call an emergency mechanic. So? What gives?

Ada introduces me to the other women. I nod along but can’t pretend I’m memorizing anybody’s names. Safe to say I’m too distracted by the Callahan of it all.

He has no right to be here. This was supposed to be a gray- haired lady zone, with a No Loitering sign for lanky men with scruffy hair and short, dark beards. Don’t even get me started on his stupid brown eyes.

Finally, she gestures between the two of us with one pale finger. “I’m guessing introductions aren’t necessary here.”

He shoves his hand out to me, ready to be properly introduced.

I roll my eyes and lightly smack it away, but touching him is always a mistake.

A zing of awareness lights up a panel somewhere in my nervous system labeled Inconvenient Attraction .

It’s like my body never got the memo that the man’s a life-ruiner, and instead gets fixated on useless things like warm, strong hands .

He makes a rumbly sound in the back of his throat, as amused with me as ever.

“Fill your plates,” Isabel instructs. “We’re pretending it’s still summer and having our discussion on the back deck.”

“The patio warmers are already toasty for us,” Ada adds. “And we’ve got a big stack of blankets if you need an extra layer.”

It’s only early October, but I still expect some kind of complaint from the group. Nobody seems fazed by the revelation, though. I would have worn more than the light hoodie I’ve got on if I’d known we’d be hanging around outside for book club.

Right now, the chill in the air isn’t my most pressing concern.

Callahan shifts to the back of the crowd around the table, letting everyone else go first as if he’s some kind of gentleman. I’m waiting for him to realize he wandered into the wrong house by mistake and sneak out, but my dreams remain dashed.

Rosetta, Sunshine’s library director, turns from the food to face me.

Her beautiful brown complexion is complemented by her silver-streaked hair, twisted into a braided bun atop her head like an ornate crown.

“We’re happy to have you with us today, Wren.

It’ll be good to hear another young person’s opinions on our book. ”

“Who is the other young person in the group?” I ask. Because the obvious answer makes no sense.

“Does that mean you think I’m not in the group or not a young person?” Callahan’s low voice is like a shiver up my spine, equal parts pleasant and unsettling.

“Only one of us is under thirty.” I’ve still got a year to go. Not even he can take that away from me.

Rosetta chuckles. “We have a more generous definition than that.”

“Krause can be a stickler with details,” Callahan says, eyes on me.

“That’s a relief,” the woman next to Rosetta pipes up. Nora, I think. “Most of us forget the finer details of the books before we ever get together to discuss the…ahem…broader aspects.”

They’ll be sincerely disappointed in me, then, since I was expecting to discuss the broader aspects , too. By which I assume we mean the kilt-wearing hero.

But I should probably come up with something a little more specific to say about the actual romance. “Well…I think the hero believing that love is a lie is relatable when you consider?—”

Rosetta raises a hand to stop me. “Oh, no, no, no. No literary discussion just yet. Not until we’ve got our food and are settled in.”

“There’s a structure to it,” Isabel says.

“Oh. Right.” I look past them to the table where the other women are piling their plates. Along with the pies I brought sit a couple of vegetable dishes, a fruit salad, some kind of spicy chicken, and a hearty loaf of bread.

“Krause is eager to discuss her skepticism about love.” Callahan’ s gaze stays stuck on me as the women titter over their plates.

“Yup. That’s me.” I grab his hand. Mistake . Too late to do anything about it now. “You don’t mind if I steal Callahan for a minute, do you?”

Pretty sure fresh laughter rolls around the group as I drag him to the relative privacy of Ada’s hallway.

It’s lined with framed photographs of what I assume is her family and an old-fashioned travel poster of Mount Bachelor.

It’s also only about twenty feet from the crowded table, but shutting ourselves up in a bedroom would be wrong on so many levels.

“How are you here?” I hiss at him.

He smirks down at me. Just a twitch of his lips beneath his short beard, but it’s enough. He dips his head, sending locks of his mouth-length dark hair over his forehead.

Mouth-length? No. That’s not a thing. Ear-length. Somewhere in the vicinity of his cheekbones. Nowhere near his mouth, which I’m definitely not looking at. Whatever the length, his hair is perpetually windswept and messy, like he just hopped off a motorcycle.

Which isn’t really the point right now.

“Rosetta invited me,” he says.

“When?”

“A few months ago.”

A few months? I’ve been finagling my way in for at least that long.

“Why?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I enjoy reading. And we were in the library. Just in case ‘Where?’ was going to be your next question.”

“You don’t even read romances.” I have no basis for this assertion, but the other option is too absurd to comprehend. Shepherd Callahan, sitting around reading about love and romance and relationships? Never.

“You make a lot of assumptions about me.”

He squeezes my hand, and I’m horrified to realize I didn’t let go of him when I dragged him back here. I make up for it now and drop his hand like it’s on fire.

“They don’t let anybody into their group,” I hiss again. My gaze darts past him, but nobody’s followed us into the hall. “They keep it a big secret. It took me forever to get them to invite me.”

Isabel tried to pretend ignorance even though she’s come into Blackbird’s to buy desserts for the book club several times.

His smirk widens. “We’re a very exclusive group.”

“Ugh.” My hard-won invitation doesn’t seem so special now. Not if they hand them out to just anybody.

“What? Am I not allowed to read books and discuss them with some of Sunshine’s most interesting minds?”

No. Not really. He can join some other book club. Not the one I’ve been so desperate to get into. I can’t believe he’s been privy to the inner workings of Ada and Isabel’s romance club for actual months.

“But it’s romance .”

That word seems wrong spoken out loud to him. I don’t like having it in the air between us. It’s a giant, invisible mosquito I want to swat away.

He purses his lips. “Krause.” He drags the word out slowly, teasing me with my own name. “Judging me for reading romance? That’s not very enlightened of you.”

I take a step closer to him. My traitor gaze skims up his open flannel shirt and the tight, black T-shirt underneath. Unhelpful. As is the flush of warmth creeping up my neck. But stepping out of his space would count as a win for him. Better to stand my ground .

“Just tell me what you’re doing here,” I seethe.

He inhales so slowly, I almost think he’s breathing in my orange and lavender perfume. Which would be crazy. Obviously. This is Callahan. He’s probably trying to suck all the air out of the room before I have a chance to breathe it.

Then, I have an out-of-body experience. His gaze dips from my eyes to my mouth. He tilts his head a fraction of an inch closer. The heat on my neck becomes an inferno. Is he—? He wouldn’t. I suck in a breath, frozen in place.

He snaps his gaze back up to mine.

“Maybe I need more romance in my life.”

I snort. Mostly at myself. One tiny movement, and I’m dreaming up forbidden kiss scenarios? I blame the Highlander romance novel I binge-read over the last two days.

Along with the dozen other romances I read this month. I really need to switch to thrillers.

“That wouldn’t be hard to achieve,” I finally say.

He quirks his eyebrows at me. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

I make a sound of disgust. Naturally, he would take what I say the opposite of how I mean it.

“Are you two ready?” Ada calls from the kitchen. “Better get your food before there’s nothing left to eat.”

“That won’t happen.” He whispers as if we’re sharing secrets back here. Which I suppose we are. “They always send me home with leftovers.”

“Is that why you come here? For the free food?”

His lips purse beneath his trim, dark beard. “You’ve figured out my scam, Krause. Brilliant sleuthing. Are we done in the hallway or did you want to hold my hand some more?”

My mouth falls open, but I’m pretty sure anything I want to say would get me kicked out of Ada’s house.

I storm past him, ignoring the hand he’s holding out to me and knocking my shoulder against his in the process.

The move always looks so perfectly dismissive in the movies, but in real life, it’s more like an unintended full-body caress.

Sick burn, Wren.

We’re the last to fill our plates. I keep my focus trained on the food, willing my brain to erase the last five minutes of sensory input.

I can still salvage this, Callahan notwithstanding.

Just because he somehow managed to score an invite to their book club first doesn’t mean I can’t prove myself to be a valuable part of the group.

What would he even have to say about romance books?

I kind of hate how much I want to know.

Outside, I’m in for another unpleasant surprise—the ladies have taken up all available seating except for a snug-looking wicker loveseat. They’ve thoughtfully draped a blanket over one cushion, as if inviting Callahan and me to share it.

Ha. Never going to happen.

He sits, and I can’t help but notice his jeans-clad thigh doesn’t quite stay on his half of the loveseat. I hover behind him, staring at the sliver of leg that’s clearly crossed a boundary.

“Come sit down, Wren,” Isabel says amid the low chatter. “Shepherd won’t bite.”

He looks up at me. Something in his brown eyes promises that yes, he absolutely will bite if given the opportunity.

But there’s nothing I hate more than backing down from one of his challenges, spoken or not.

I round the loveseat and sit next to him.

I lift my eyebrows at him, lobbing back his little dare.

I will sit here and eat this delicious food and talk about a Highlander jaded to love, all with our thighs and arms pressed together on this too-small loveseat, possibly while sharing a blanket.

It doesn’t bother me at all.