Page 21 of One Small Spark (Love in Sunshine #4)

“Yeah. He just needs a snack.” It’s not an emergency, but it’s still something I would have had at the front of my mind if it weren’t for the six-foot-three distraction at my side.

Good Wren would have caught the downward trend in his blood sugar levels before the alarm even sounded.

Bad Wren’s been too busy staring into deep brown eyes to calculate how long August’s been riding his bike.

“‘Son of a bus?’” Callahan repeats, amusement layering his voice.

“Shut it. I’m trying to be a good influence on my nephew.” Casual swearing used to be one of my favorite outlets for colorful self-expression before he came along.

“Did you guys see me?” August rides off the path and straight into the grass, stopping just before he reaches the tote bag I’ve got at my feet. “I rode and rode.”

“You did awesome. It’s time for a snack, though.”

“Okay.” He unbuckles his helmet and drops it in the grass before flopping down between Callahan and me. “What did you bring?”

I pull the insulated lunchbox from my tote bag, spilling my yarn, crochet hook, and weirdo work in progress across the blanket in the process.

August isn’t the only one who had grand plans for our afternoon in the park.

I hand him a juice box and a wrapped sandwich.

It won’t take much to counteract his activity out here, but he needs a little something.

He happily eats the food, still watching the bikers on the BMX trail. Or “pump track,” I guess it’s called. I pop open a small bag of spicy corn chips and tip it Callahan’s way .

He sits straighter so he can take one. “Thanks.”

“Ian said I can try the track as soon as I’m done with training wheels.” August nods over his plans for world domination by way of unfettered bicycling.

“It won’t be long now,” Callahan tells him.

August grins wider. “I’ll ride so fast when they’re gone.”

“Is it hard to learn?” I ask Callahan. “The pump track, I mean. Is it safe for little guys to ride it?”

Most of the kids in there look well out of elementary school.

August shoots me a wounded look. “I’m not so little.”

I slip an arm around him for a quick hug. “I know, buddy.”

“There are informal times for beginners to ride the track every week,” Callahan says. “As long as he goes when it’s not busy, he’ll be fine.”

“Mama wants me to get a helmet that covers my whole face!” August seems thrilled by this step up in protective gear. I bet my sister’s less enthusiastic. Or rather, ready to enthusiastically cocoon him in bubble wrap.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Callahan says. “Maybe some gloves and knee pads, too.”

“Yeah.” August’s gone all dreamy, clearly zoning out imagining himself kitted up to tackle the track. “Can I go watch them ride?”

I check the app on his phone. The little line indicating his blood glucose levels has stopped its downward trend. “Sure. Don’t go inside the fence, though. Sit on the bench outside to watch.”

“Okay!” He scrambles up, finishing the last bite of his sandwich before trotting over to the bench.

Callahan watches me with a wry smile. Some might even call it a smirk. I don’t hate it as much as I used to.

“What?” I ask.

“You’re worried about him. ”

I roll my eyes. “If this is a reference to me poking fun at your grave concerns over my ability to get home the other night, it’s totally off base. It’s not like I asked him to text me when he gets to the bench.”

“It’s sweet.”

“Sweet. Yuck.” Going to ignore how those words in Callahan’s mouth make my stomach dip. “It’s normal to worry at least a little over the people you…”

The rest of that sentence dies out on my tongue. Care about. I can’t connect those words between Callahan and me right here in the middle of this park. Even if my traitorous gaze goes straight to his left arm, currently covered by—wonder of wonders—a red flannel shirt.

“He’s diabetic,” I say instead of finishing my thought. “So there’s extra stuff to think about beyond the usual little kid scrapes and tumbles.”

“That’s what the app is for?”

“Yeah.” I flip it back on so he can see the graph making its way back to normal range. “The urgent alarms are a lot more grating than this one was.”

“He seems to be handling it well.”

“He’s a little champ.” I can’t help the surge of affection as I look over at August kicking his feet on the bench and watching the teens run the BMX track. “He doesn’t let anything stop him.”

After a minute of silence, I glance back at Callahan again. He’s got that heady mix of admiration, etcetera, in his eyes once more. “What?”

“It’s sweet,” he says again, so softly, it wraps around me like a hug.

I’m not the “sweet” type. I’ve given him plenty of proof that’s not my default setting. But when he calls me that, I almost believe it could be .

A breeze drifts over us, making me wish I’d brought a second blanket. Or that Callahan’s figurative hug were a literal one. But honestly, the warmth in his gaze does a pretty solid job of staving off the chill on its own.

“I have to get back to the shop,” he says after another minute. “I’m glad I ran into you.”

“Me, too.” That small admission makes my face heat as if I confessed my undying devotion. But after the way I’ve talked to him for so long, any little concession feels huge. Being glad to see him reveals plenty.

He shifts to lean closer to me. I have the insane thought he’s moving in for a kiss—followed by the even more insane impulse to meet him halfway. But he doesn’t get that far.

“Are you sure you don’t want that ride on Friday?” he asks.

I open my mouth to shoot down the offer, but…it’s not a horrible plan. Carpooling is good for the environment and all. It would save wear and tear on my car’s shock absorption system. Something along those lines.

His brown eyes sparkle, and I realize just how obvious I’m being. Can’t have that.

“I can drive by myself.” Factual. And neatly avoids answering his actual question.

He nods as if he expected this. “Then I’ll save you a seat for when you get there.”

Why does that not sound like any less of a date than him picking me up and driving me there himself?

Callahan stands and gazes down at me. “Thanks for letting me share your picnic.”

I wave my hand, brushing off his thanks for the chips I shared. Next time, I’ll be prepared with an actual picnic for both of us, not just August.

Wait, next time? I’m making plans to prepare a picnic for the guy? I’ve completely lost it .

“Bye,” I say before my thoughts get totally out of hand.

He walks away, pausing to say goodbye to August at the BMX track. I watch him stride up the path that leads to the parking lot back there, eating up the casual way he shoves his hands in his jeans pockets. There’s something so confident and unconcerned about him that’s massively intriguing.

Just before he reaches the edge of the park, he turns back and catches me staring after him. He lifts a hand, and mine automatically raises in return. Then he continues on, disappearing into the parking lot.

I thought I was playing it cool with Callahan, but the warmth washing through me from his low-key goodbye says I am anything but.