Page 12 of One Small Spark (Love in Sunshine #4)

NINE

WREN

I just wanted to have a relaxing girls’ night. Go out with my friends and distract myself from that moment in the alley I can’t get out of my head. Instead, my girls’ night wound up including several guys, and now a dude at the bar who won’t take no for an answer.

He’s trying to be flirty, but the undertone of or else ruins the good-guy vibe.

“Come on, what’s your name? Is it so hard to give me that?”

I hold my body rigid so I don’t accidentally touch the hipster in the vintage shirt. If looking him in the eye brought this on, I hate to think what he’d do if we made contact. “I’m just waiting to order a drink.”

“It’s on me. All I want is your name.”

Yeah, right. I’m positive this guy wants more from me than just my name.

Suddenly, a body wedges between us. I’m ready to throw an elbow at all this crowding when I look up and realize it’s Callahan.

“Sorry I’m late, kitten. ”

Sometimes in romance novels, the hero’s voice is described as a “purr.” I’ve always thought it a flowery and borderline impossible illustration. Men don’t make sounds like that, I’m sorry. But there’s no better word for the way Callahan’s deep voice rolls across my skin. He purrs .

He’s gazing down, eyes dark and warm, and the tension drains out of me. I’m relieved to have him here. I’m borderline giddy, like I’m filled with champagne bubbles, all because he showed up.

What. Is. Happening?

He turns slightly as though just now noticing the guy who’d been pushing for my name. “Are you waiting for the bartender?”

His question is casual, but carries an undercurrent to it that says the dude had better not be waiting for anything else.

The guy grimaces. “No. I’m all set.”

He walks away, blending into the chaos of The Stumpjumper.

Which, by the way, I plan to point out to Hope and Lila was a terrible place for a girls’ night. I much prefer eating my weight in loaded fries at Delish than fending off pushy guys in a bar.

Now that the jerk’s gone, Callahan gives me an inch of space. I instantly wish we were still touching.

I must be coming down with something. A weird sickness that makes me crave Callahan? There’d better be a cure.

“Are you okay?”

He’s concerned for me, but there’s a layer of protectiveness to the way he’s watching me, too. He’s hulking out again, just like those heroes in the monster romances Lila keeps talking about. I didn’t think actual guys did that, but here we are.

It’s confusing. Almost as much as my visceral reaction to him.

“I’m fine. I know a few self-defense moves if he’d pushed his luck.”

This just deepens Callahan’s scowl. He turns and looks across the bar as if searching for the guy to make sure he’s keeping his distance.

I mean, I don’t know that. I’m making it all up in my head. But when his gaze meets mine again, the fiery look in his eyes makes me think he’d gladly confront that jerk.

We go to one romance book club together, and suddenly, he’s my hero?

I’m going to ignore the elephant-sized kiss in the room. It was just the hottest kiss of my life. Totally unrelated. No need to bring it up.

The bartender finally takes my order. Callahan adds a second cider to mine, and the gal behind the bar whisks away again.

It’s time to pull myself together and get this under control. I shift my hands to my hips in a power stance, my arm brushing his.

“I would never accept the nickname kitten, by the way.”

“What should I call you?” He needs to stop using his deep, intoxicating voice on me. It’s distracting. I hate it.

I hate how much I don’t hate it.

I think for a minute. Nobody’s ever given me a romantic nickname before. Right now, hearing him say my name would be enough, but I can’t blurt that out at a bar.

“Goddess.” What I’d intended for snark comes out closer to a plea. This evening is sliding right off the rails. Should we go in the back and make out again?

I mean…should we?

“Done.”

He touches his hand to the small of my back. It’s featherlight but rocks through me like the whole-body shudder right before you fall asleep. This isn’t okay. I’m not thinking like myself. Whatever magic he’s weaving, I need to find a spell to block it.

“What are you doing here, Callahan?”

“Leo dragged me out.”

There’s another one of Callahan’s mysteries.

He’s best friends with Leo Dalesandro, former NFL star center and whirlwind of down-to-earth friendliness.

From what I’ve heard, they’ve been buddies since they were kids.

It has to be a case of an extrovert taking an introvert under his wing, I just can’t figure out why.

Callahan is broody, sarcastic, and doesn’t seem to really enjoy people. Peak lone wolf stuff.

Leo is definitely a pack animal.

“He’s assimilated into your group, FYI.”

I turn back to our table and spot Leo sitting between Grant and his brother, talking while gesturing broadly with his hands. A sigh gusts out of me. “Girls’ night is officially out the window.”

“Were you trying to have a night to yourselves?”

“ I was. Hope and Lila had their own plans. We hardly ever get a night out now that everyone’s hooked up. I just wanted some bonding time with my girls.” I sound way too disappointed over a simple thing like adding a few extras to our evening out. “I need to make more single friends.”

What a sad sack. All my friends have boyfriends, woe is me. Pathetic.

Even more pathetic? Callahan is the one I’m confiding in.

“I’m sure Fran would be happy to have a night on the town with you.”

I laugh in spite of myself. Then I imagine how a night out with the flirty seventy-something might actually go and laugh even harder. Things could get wild. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that much excitement.”

I pause, staring at him mid-laugh. Callahan actually cheered me up. He took my frown and turned it upside down. Just like the rest of me, apparently.

The bartender finally returns with our frothy glasses of cider. Callahan pays for both before I can get my cash out.

“I owe you a drink,” I tell him as we head back to the table.

“You don’t.”

“Mr. Vintage Bowling shirt insisted on buying me a drink, too.”

He scowls. “Fine. You can buy me a drink.”

“Fine.”

At the table, I take my seat next to Hope. Callahan sits at the last open space at the opposite end. I’m not disappointed. This is good. The best, probably, since I need some room to clear my head. Shake out all these Callahan-related cobwebs.

It’s hard to do when our kiss still lives in my bones, sending out shockwaves every time I think about it. Which, obviously, I don’t. That would be crazy. I’m trying to forget it.

But nobody’s ever kissed me like that. Like I’m the oxygen he needs to survive. Like nothing else exists in the world beyond us. Like he’s been holding himself back and is finally set free.

I take a big gulp of my cider. I can’t wax rhapsodic about Callahan in a bar. You’re better than this, Wren.

Conversations move around the table, but I barely participate. Every time I look his way, Callahan’s watching me. The creeper. Except, that means I’m looking at him just as often. We must both be creeps.

I need to rise above him and not take his bait. Keep my eyes on my half of the table. Definitely not look at his mouth from six feet away like a weirdo. Focus.

Grant’s brother turns to me. Rhett is several years younger than him, so about my age.

Despite the age gap, they’re obviously related—his hair’s a little lighter, but they share the same blue eyes and mega-watt smile.

He’s built similarly, too, if a few inches shorter.

Unlike Grant, Baby Adonis is a shameless flirt.

“What do you do for nightlife around here, Wren?” He flashes his big smile at me as if he’s already charmed by the answer I haven’t given yet.

“You’re doing it.” I raise my glass to toast him, but my gaze darts to Callahan like a little psycho.

He’s leaning back in the uncomfortable bar chair as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. His casual confidence is mildly aspirational and majorly irritating. Nothing’s bothering him right now? Like, I don’t know, that crazy kiss in the alley?

Because he doesn’t care, Wren. It was all part of his twisted mind games. Probably.

“We’ve got the same amount of nightlife here as you do back home,” Grant points out.

“I thought you were trying to get me to visit more ,” Rhett shoots back.

“When whitewater rafting season starts up again, you’ll have a lot of reasons to visit.” Lila’s switched over into tourism mode, her eyes overly bright. “We’ve got a dozen rivers across the state with all classes of rapids for you to explore.”

Grant kisses her temple. “Nicely done, princess.”

She gestures at Callahan. “And if you like biking, Shepherd can point you to all the best paths.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rhett acknowledges him at the far end of the table. “What kind of paths?”

“A lot of old doubletrack where they’re phasing out ATVs. Some newer singletrack trails.”

I don’t know what any of those words mean, but he’s got the table’s interest.

“And Shepherd’s working on getting some of our fire roads converted into biking paths, too.” Lila’s not ready to give up her Callahan praise. “He’s got a plan to link them up to existing paths in town.”

“It’s not just me.”

Lila rejects his attempt to brush her off. “That’s not what the people on your team say. They’re working on the fundraising, but the trails are your vision.”

He ticks his head to the side as if even that small acknowledgement pains him.

It makes total sense that Callahan’s planning some big bike path expansion. More bike trails means more bike sales and rentals for Get in Gear. He’s already proved he puts his business first in everything.

Except…watching Lila’s efforts to pull in more tourism and business opportunities for Sunshine, I’ve learned that nobody gets involved in stuff like that totally for themselves.

There has to be some positive community spirit at the heart of it.

A little shimmer of altruism hiding in Callahan’s bleak heart.

Gross.

I sip at my cider, trying to force even more new information about him into the small box where I’ve kept him the last couple of years. It’s getting crowded in there. I’m just not sure which parts to toss out.

Rhett turns back to me. “What would you be doing right now if you weren’t partaking of Sunshine’s extensive nightlife?”

Easy. “Crocheting my weirdos.”

His brow furrows, but a smile curves along his mouth. “I don’t understand that sentence.”

“I crochet,” I explain. His smile doesn’t budge, but he looks just as mystified. “It’s a yarn craft like knitting, but with a hook. I make stuffed animals. Well…they’re not animals. They’re just blobby little guys.”

And I adore every single one .

“Granny crafts are popular right now.” Callahan’s mouth has a curl to it. Smile? Or smirk?

I love my granny craft, but now I kind of wish he didn’t know about it. I need a cool girl hobby, like blacksmithing or glassblowing.

“The tight end on the Hornets knits himself a sweater every season,” Leo says. “Claims it helps him focus.”

“It must work,” Rhett says. “He plays like a beast.”

“Do they look good?” Griffin wants to know.

Leo shakes his head slowly. “Like a JoAnn’s barfed on him every time.”

Hope squeezes my elbow. “I want your weirdos for my store.”

“I love you, but I’m not meant for that side hustle life.” If I tried to perfect and sell my projects, it’d suck the fun out of making them, and I’d lose my outlet for stress relief.

Do I have an army of them in my room? Possibly. Will I give up any of them? Never. Except gifts to August, of course.

She coos as if somebody smuggled a dog in here. “They’re so cute and ugly.”

Leo raises his glass. “To cute and ugly.”

Rhett slides his elbow closer to mine on the table. “I’m in town for a few more days. Maybe you can show me what else there is to do in Sunshine tomorrow night? Other than visit this illustrious bar and indulge in granny crafts, I mean.”

His giant smile momentarily disarms me, but before I can answer, someone else does.

“I thought you had plans tomorrow night, Krause,” Callahan says.

I blink at him. “Plans?”

His mouth tips up. “With someone from your book group.”

Is that a dig about my pathetic social life? I’m so inept, my only options are Fran and the romance club ladies? Granny crafts with my granny friends. I told him that out of loneliness and desperation. I should have known he’d throw it back in my face.

I shoot him a scowl and turn to Rhett. “I’d love to show you around Sunshine tomorrow.”

He beams like he’s on his way to pick up his prize for Best Smile. “Can’t wait.”

I glance at Callahan because yes, that did just happen, but my triumph crumples like wadded-up paper.

He doesn’t look sour, like I one-upped him in one of our verbal battles.

He looks hurt . Two deep lines cut between his dark eyebrows, his mouth thin and flat beneath his beard.

Something like betrayal darkens his eyes until I have to look away.

My cider tastes bitter the rest of the evening.

I make half-hearted attempts to keep conversation going, even if Griffin, Grant, and Rhett mostly discuss hikes and lakes and altitude sickness.

Lila talks about her idea for a summer concert series in a local park.

Leo praises some high school grunge band he heard playing downtown.

Hope shares about other granny crafts taking off in her store right now.

Callahan doesn’t say a word.

I can’t look his way again. My stomach churns with guilt and regret like a demented cement mixer. I don’t kiss one guy and make plans with another a few hours later. Even if the first guy has me so confused I don’t know which way’s up.

But what else was I supposed to do? Say “Oh, no thank you, Rhett. I’m currently hung up on the guy who kissed my face off this afternoon and then had the audacity to make fun of my lack of a social life this evening.”

When our group finally breaks up for the night, Rhett and I exchange numbers. He leaves with Grant and Lila, lobbing one last Baby Adonis smile my way before they take off down the street. Leo says loud goodbyes to everyone, only to look around and realize Callahan already disappeared.

I refuse to think about why he slunk away without a word.

Hope and I hug on the sidewalk while Griffin waits by his truck.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she whispers in my ear.

Truly, I do not.