Page 25 of One Small Spark (Love in Sunshine #4)

SEVENTEEN

WREN

It’s just a movie night with a group of friends. Acquaintances, when you get right down to it. People I barely know. I should not be nervous. I should not have butterflies fluttering around in my chest like they’re trying to organize a prison break.

I definitely shouldn’t be this feverish when I lock eyes with Callahan across the room of the swankiest house I’ve ever been in.

“Everybody’s in the kitchen.” Ada swings the front door shut behind me, needlessly gesturing at the crowd on the other side of the great room. Then she ducks her head closer toward me. “I was starting to wonder if you needed that ride, after all.”

“Nope. I’m here.” Last to arrive, apparently, but here. At least I’m consistent.

Ada leads me to where the rest of the group is gathered around the gleaming white kitchen island. I keep staring at Callahan, which is nothing new. My racing heartbeat and dipping stomach are, though.

“What did you bring for us, Wren?” Barb zooms over to take the big plastic food container from me .

“Cookies.” One of my favorite recipes using fancy chocolate mints instead of chocolate chips, but from the way Barb’s face falls, she was hoping for something else.

“Oh.” She takes the container like I passed her a used tissue. “No pies this time?”

“Nope.” I pop the P , ignoring a couple of other disappointed looks. I could have easily grabbed a pie or two after my shift, but I made cookies at home instead. If they only invited me to their club for my pies, I’d rather know now.

I’d still keep coming to book group, mind you. But at least I’d know where I stand.

“Are these mints?” Rosetta asks, inspecting my cookies.

“Yup.”

“You are heaven-sent. I love mint anything.”

Ada guides me around the women filling their plates, conveniently leading us closer to Callahan. “Your cookies sound delightful.”

“How did your son afford this house?” Barb asks Ada with zero finesse.

Granted, it’s a magnificent house. Huge and modern, with sleek lines and shimmering glass accents everywhere.

It also looks like nobody actually lives here.

Where are the water glasses forgotten on the coffee table?

The throw blankets crumpled on the floor?

The subtle divots on the couch cushions that say people read there for hours at a time on snowy days?

Surely, I’m not the only one who lives like that.

“He makes movie trailers.” Ada pauses for the impressed oohs and aahs to die down. “He lived in L.A. for almost twenty years, but now he does all that from his home studio. He goes back once in a while, though, and I make good use of his theater when he does.”

“You must be eager for him to finally settle down,” Nora says, nibbling on a brownie.

“I wish.” Ada exhales the long-suffering sigh of a mother with a confirmed bachelor for a son.

I finally reach Callahan. I’m probably standing too close, but I blame the crowd around the food. “What did you bring?”

He nods at the table. “Wouldn’t you rather guess?”

I glance over the assorted offerings. Cream cheese brownies, sugar cookies with sprinkles, a store-bought tiramisu. Snickerdoodles dusted with cinnamon, a peach poke cake, and molasses crinkle cookies. I feel like Indiana Jones picking from a hundred versions of the Holy Grail.

“The napkins?” I suggest.

His mouth tips up. “You got me.”

My stomach dips again like it’s on a Callahan-powered rollercoaster. I told myself I wouldn’t get all hot and bothered over him tonight. Or… more hot and bothered. My body isn’t listening.

Honestly, neither is my brain. Callahan’s seemingly unflappable calm has both annoyed me and brought out mild admiration over the years.

But seeing behind the curtain to his panic attack yesterday put him in a whole new light.

I can’t help wondering if that’s part of the reason he stopped working with his family at their fancy lodge.

More importantly, I worry over what it will mean for the trails he’s been working so hard to get built.

If he really can’t give the presentation, what will happen then?

Am I feeling sympathy for Shepherd Callahan? So weird.

But I can’t deny, talking him down from his anxiety-fueled hyperventilation session reminded me there’s a genuine human underneath all that flannel.

One who’s currently watching me like he wishes we were alone in an alley somewhere.

“Shepherd, these chocolate chip cookies are perfect.” Fran has sidled close to both of us, a half-eaten cookie in one hand. “How do you get them to keep so much height?”

“I chill the dough before baking them.” This man should guard his secrets better. At least four sets of eyes light up over that info, no doubt ready to steal the move.

“I’ll guess… You brought the chocolate chip cookies,” I tell him, grabbing one from the tray.

“Well done, Sherlock.” He watches me take a bite, eyes narrowing as I make an involuntary yummy sound.

Okay, mostly involuntary.

“Good?” he asks.

They’re delicious. Chewy but not too soft, a bit of crunch but not over-baked. I eat the cookie in three indelicate bites and pop the end of my thumb in my mouth to get a spot of melted chocolate.

Callahan’s eyes lock on the move, and it’s like the world tilts, shifting me his direction.

“They’re okay,” I tell him. “I won’t know for sure until I’ve tried another.”

“Always good to do a thorough taste-test.”

Heat crawls up my spine as if the temperature in here just spiked.

For the record, it’s stupid cold. You’d think being so super rich, Ada’s son could heat his house to a decent level.

“All right, ladies and gentleman,” Ada says from the other side of the kitchen island. “We’ve got Pride and Prejudice queued up and ready to go. Grab your snacks and drinks and come to the last door on the right down the hall and around the corner.”

“I thought we were going to vote,” Barb says, stacking cookies on a small plate.

“I haven’t seen Northanger Abbey in a long time,” Nora says .

Barb’s mouth drops open. “How is that your choice?”

“It’s better than the cousins in love in Mansfield Park .” Rosetta makes a sour face I feel one hundred percent. “I always preferred Persuasion .”

“Captain Wentworth’s love letter is so dreamy.” I have to get my point in before they move on. “Top-tier pining from that man.”

“You like a smitten man, do you?” Ada asks, lifting her eyebrows in a cheeky move.

Nora harrumphs. “Nobody beats Colonel Brandon’s pining.”

“My favorite is Mr. Rochester.” Fran loads her plate as though she didn’t bring the conversation to a screeching halt.

“That’s not Jane Austen,” Isabel says after a minute. “And deeply troubling, to boot.”

“He’s not a shy violet like a lot of Austen heroes.” Fran inspects a tray of cookies. “He’s passionate. Stormy. You know he’s got fire.”

Rosetta laughs. “Pun intended?”

“He also dresses up like a gypsy woman to try to trick Jane into confessing her love,” I add. “Like any totally normal and not at all wacko guy would do.”

Don’t even get me started on the fake relationship with Blanche Ingram. Fake dating only makes sense when the love interests are the ones doing the faking. Rochester’s way was just cruel.

“Whatever it takes to get a woman to admit how she feels. Right, Shepherd?” Fran asks. “I’ve got some long skirts and patterned scarves you can borrow.”

She winks at him and heads out of the kitchen with a couple of the other ladies in tow.

“Menaces,” I mutter under my breath .

“Trickery’s not on your list of preferred qualities in a man?” Callahan asks.

I snort. “Neither is bigamy, so if you’ve got a wife hidden away in your cabin, tell me now.”

I freeze as the sassy smile falls off my face. Staring at the food on the table and not the man standing at my side, I’m tempted to toss the blanket I’ve got rolled under one arm straight over my head. Just pretend I’m an overstimulated bird and avoid looking at him for the rest of the night.

He tilts his head closer to mine. Why does he have to smell like a forest right now? “No wife or girlfriend, in my cabin or otherwise.”

The remaining ladies around the island giggle, shooting us obvious looks and bobbing their eyebrows. Between their flirty pushing and my stupid mouth, we’ve already conspired to make the evening into a steaming bowl of awkward soup. Teamwork makes the dream work.

“Nobody’s surprised you’re single, Callahan.” I’m reaching for my classic snark, but to my horror, I sound happy about this information. And the way he’s smiling down at me, he heard it, too.

“I’d be willing to change that, Krause.”

I swallow hard, my poor brain completely blank. It’s all fun and games until somebody’s making heart eyes in the middle of romance book group.

“Are you two joining us? If we don’t start the movie soon, half of us will be asleep before the credits roll.”

Turning to Ada, I try to snap out of my brain fog. “Yup. We’re ready.”

I follow her down the hall, refusing to look back to see if Callahan’s behind me. Obviously, he is. No need to check.

But I peek anyway, catching him trailing me with a plate of treats in one hand and a glass of water in the other. The amused tilt to his mouth confirms I shouldn’t have looked back.

We reach the movie room, and Holy Batcave, my guy.

It’s a mini movie theater with four risers, each with a full-size leather sofa on it that has small tables for snacks and drinks at either end.

As I watch, Nora fully reclines her seat.

The projection screen takes up one massive wall.

Mr. Darcy will be taller than me on this.

A quick glance at the sofas confirms that not only did the ladies give Callahan and me no other option than to sit together, but we’re in the back row. They might as well have tacked a sign over the sofa that says, “Now kiss.”

It’s terrible that I’m considering it, right?

I put my snacks on the side table and arrange my throw blanket over my legs.

I sink into the cushions, snug and comfortable despite the chilly temperature in here.

The cozy couch reminds me just how long it’s been since I really relaxed today.

When Ada dims the lights, I can’t hold back my ear-popping yawn.

“Are you going to make it through the movie?” Callahan asks.

“Possibly. I’ve been up since five.”

I don’t usually go out on days I open at the bakery, but I made an exception for tonight. No need to question why, thank you.

He leans closer. “Feel free to fall asleep on me if you need to.”

It’s pretty dark in here, but I can hear the smirk in his voice.

No way will I admit just how nice snuggling up to him sounds right now.

Best if I avoid temptation altogether. I lay out in the opposite direction, resting my head on the plush armrest and tucking my legs up, pressing my feet against his thigh. “Thanks.”

It’s wrong of me to admire how firm his thigh is, yes ?

He chuckles, taking my socked feet into his lap as the Pride and Prejudice intro music starts over the rising sun on the screen.

He lays one warm hand on my toes, the other on my exposed calves.

This…is objectively worse than simply sitting side by side through a romantic movie.

Do my feet stink? Maybe they’re shaped funny, and I never knew.

Ada said it’s a shoes-off house, and I had no problem going along, but now I realize I should have stayed as fully dressed as possible.

Callahan’s eyes stay on the movie, but he traces the image on my socks with his thumb.

It’s a green trash bin with flames coming out of the top, Everything is fine printed above.

I don’t pay attention to Mrs. Bennett’s grand plans for Mr. Bingley for even a moment.

I’m too busy furtively watching Callahan.

When he starts rubbing my feet, I simply perish.

Maybe worse, I make an embarrassing sound as he kneads into my arch. Apparently, I’m a mush for physical touch. Or…ugh…maybe I’m just mush for Callahan.

“Okay?” he asks softly, his fingers gently pressing into the soles of my feet. Instead of watching the movie, now he’s focused on me, his face glowing gold in the dim light.

This is my chance. I can tell him to knock it off. Say I was trying to shove him away, not offer an invitation. Pull my feet back onto my side of the sofa and remove the temptation entirely.

Instead, I nod, mumble, “Mm-hmm,” and burrow deeper into my blanket.

I’m in danger.