Page 39 of One Small Spark (Love in Sunshine #4)

TWENTY-SEVEN

SHEPHERD

I should have known it would be a mistake to bring Wren to the hot springs.

I sometimes come here to relax and clear my head.

It’s peaceful, if I time it right, and the waters soothe me.

Now, the vision of her in this pool will be so ingrained in my memory, any visits without her will be a poor imitation.

And, honestly, not especially relaxing.

I run one hand along the smooth lines of her back as she sits on my thigh, my other hand holding hers beneath the surface. The sound of the water bubbling from one pool to the next muffles any conversations from above.

“So you usually just come here by yourself?” she asks.

One of her hands splays across the nape of my neck, caressing my hairline so lightly, it’s driving me crazy. Her fingernails scratch over my scalp as she massages, setting my nerve endings on fire.

Now that I’m in the middle of it, I’m realizing this entire scenario was probably a bad idea.

“I’m usually on my own. Charlie used to come out with me, but she’s been bad at taking time off lately. Leo’s joined me a couple of times. That one gets naked.”

Wren giggles against me. The sensation is both a delight and a torture.

“Seriously? Wait, wait.” She closes her eyes. “Let me picture it.”

I pull her against me, dancing my fingers along her sides until her squeals pierce my ears. “Don’t picture it.”

She squirms in my arms, shifting so her back is to my front in an effort to avoid my tickles. “But he was in the running for Sexiest Man of the Year!”

“Sadly, he didn’t get the votes.” I won’t tell her he was actually discouraged about that for months. But I guess when you’re used to winning the popularity contests, it’s hard to adjust when you lose.

She settles, relaxing against my chest. Leaning back, she rests her head on my shoulder, letting her legs float while I hold her to me across her upper arms. Her toenails are painted bright yellow, and her feet bob at the surface.

She pulls them back under, no doubt protecting them from the breeze moving through the trees.

“I didn’t vote for him, FYI.”

“Who did you vote for?” Not that I actually want to know.

The other contenders that year were three world-famous actors and a beloved pop star.

All of them with clean-cut images, toothpaste commercial smiles, and throngs of adoring fans.

Highly punchable types. I have no need to find out which is Wren’s favorite among the bunch.

She shrugs, wrapping her hands around my forearms. “I forget. Some lumberjack-looking dude probably.”

It’s a good thing she can’t see my smug face right now.

We relax for a while, listening to the waterfalls above us. She traces my tattoos, sliding her fingers along the trees, river, and mountains. Each touch is a gentle test of my control .

“Is this one for your grandpa?” she asks, running her fingertip over a mountain peak on my biceps.

“All the mountains are for him. He loved them. He would have disappeared into the mountains and built a cabin out there if it weren’t for my grandma.”

“Sounds familiar.” The affection in her voice wraps around my ribcage, holding tight.

“He was better with people, though. He loved having guests in the lodge and showing them all his favorite places in the canyon. Nothing made him happier than meeting strangers and turning them into friends.” He was the epitome of hospitality, something I could never achieve no matter how much I tried.

Most of the time, I don’t try very hard.

She slips her hand around my forearm to grip it. “You’re not bad with people. You’re just selective. You’re good with a few people at a time.”

“Maybe at my best with only one.”

She hums a happy little sound. “Wasn’t it hard for you to leave the lodge, though? The family responsibility must have weighed pretty heavily.”

“It did. Even after my parents encouraged it, I put it off. But Grandpa knew what I was feeling and convinced me to go my own way.”

“Find what you love and pour your whole heart into it.”

My only regret is that I didn’t act fast enough for him to see my shop open. He passed away while I was in the planning stages, but he loved hearing what I had in mind.

“That’s really special. Tess had to threaten to start her own business before Mom would let her even expand ours. I think Mom has a hard time seeing happiness for us outside of the family limits.”

That’s an interesting way of phrasing it. “Are you happy at the bakery? ”

She stretches her legs, pushing closer against me.

“I actually really love it. I like coming up with new recipes. Mom made that concession over the summer, too. So I get to experiment with flavors. And I like our customers. Some people are big fans of my work. I should tell you, I have a stalker. He comes in every week, desperate to see me and taste anything I’ve made. ”

“Sounds like a man obsessed. What would his pie flavor be? Mud?”

She hesitates a moment, dipping those yellow-painted toes in and out of the water. “I think…something rich like chocolate silk. But with an unexpected crust, like crushed pretzel. And a bourbon cream topping to give it some kick.”

I’ve never been so flattered by a description of pie before.

“What’s your pie flavor?”

“A grapefruit custard. Almost too bitter to eat.”

I clutch her closer, instinct driving me to protect her from herself. “Is that really how you see yourself?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a lemon curd with a blueberry meringue. Tart, but with a hint of bright freshness.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“I’m happy at the bakery,” she says after a minute. “But I don’t like feeling as if I don’t have choices in my own life.”

I wasn’t all that good at my family’s business, but I understand feeling like your choices have already been made for you. Where I lived, where I worked—they were foregone conclusions I had to break away from. We were in similar spots, once.

“You always have choices, Wren. When you figure out what you want, I have no doubt you will make it happen. Whether that’s finding a different job or a different place to live. Even taking a long vacation you’ve been thinking about for years.”

“Not everybody agrees.”

“I know. I’ve been there, too. But you deserve every happiness you want. ”

Her soft smile makes my heart melt. “I do deserve happiness, don’t I?”

“Absolutely, you do.”

“What if my happiness involves a little smacky-smacky?” She raises one hand to tap an imaginary rump.

Laughter rumbles through me, along with a shot of adrenaline. “I never said you couldn’t. I only said it goes both ways.”

We sink lower in the water. It’s so cold out, any wet skin exposed to air is immediately an iceberg. At this point, it’s going to be impossible to get out again.

With Wren in my arms, I can’t even care. I will live as a half-frozen prune if that’s what it takes.

“What else do you want to do when you go to New Zealand?” I ask. “Other than lie on beach after beach.”

A plan I wholeheartedly endorse.

“I had it all figured out. I’d stay in tiny houses close to the beaches and go into town for ice cream every day.

There are these caves that they take you through in canoes and the ceilings are full of glowworms, so the caverns twinkle like stars.

There’s whale watching on the South Island, and it’d be cool to experience some Māori culture. ”

“A lot of those things sound suspiciously outdoorsy.”

“It doesn’t count as outdoorsy if it’s in another country.”

“Is that how it works?”

She slowly bicycles her legs in the water, and I memorize the sight. “It’s not really that I hate all outdoorsy things. I just…never wanted to feel like I had to change myself to make a guy like me. I’ve done it in the past. It didn’t work.”

Protectiveness barrels to life in my chest. I want to hunt down whoever made her feel like she had to be anything other than exactly who she is. This goddess doesn’t need to change herself for anyone .

“You’re holding me kind of tight. Are you hulking out again?”

“Sorry.” I relax my arms and press a kiss to her temple. “I don’t want you to be different, Wren. If I ask you to do things with me, it’s not because I want you to like exactly what I like. It’s because I want to experience things with you. And if you don’t want to do them, that’s okay, too.”

She nods, but I’m not sure she believes me.

“I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

Her laughter rocks through my chest. “Perfect? You must have me confused with someone else. I’m snarky and rude, and I?—”

A man and woman slowly descend the stairs next to our pool. At a guess, they’re in the age range of the women in our book group, with graying hair and faces etched with lines. They wear sandals as they traverse the wet rocks, but they’ve got absolutely nothing else on.

Wren freezes, staring straight ahead. The couple continue on to a lower pool as if we aren’t here. They gradually disappear from view, probably dipping into one of the coolest levels.

Wren dislodges herself from my arms, spinning stiffly to face me with wide eyes.

“Too much for you?” I ask.

“Maybe. Wow. They really just let it all…” She shimmies her hands in the air.

“Yup.”

“And there was not a stitch of…”

“Nope.”

“See, I thought I was bold, but…I’m not that bold.”

“Something to work up to.”

Her sassy smirk hits me square in the chest. “In your dreams, Callahan.”

She very much is.