Page 43 of One Small Spark (Love in Sunshine #4)

THIRTY

WREN

Naturally, I’m the last to show up to book club.

I’ve got two pies with me because I’m feeling generous today—a pear and a cranberry silk.

And, truth be told, I’m feeling more than a little mushy.

It’s a weird sensation. I’m not used to all the softness.

Possibly still fighting it. The problem with turning to mush is that it spreads.

Everything brings a dopey smile to my face.

When a yacht rock song comes on the easy-listening channel in the bakery.

When someone rides past on a bicycle. When I see any kind of bird, no matter the context.

When I see my nemesis-turned-hot-springs-guide standing in Ada’s kitchen, and I want to run over to him, jump into his arms, and smooch him so hard the ladies all faint.

Shepherd looks really, really good today.

Not all that unusual, let’s be real. I might have once been deluded about him being a jerk, but I was never confused about how attractive he is.

His green flannel shirt is pre-rolled to the elbows, forearm tattoos on display.

His hair is especially messy, and I’m here for it.

But it’s his eyes that make me need to double check that my feet are still on the floor.

He looks into my soul and just knows I’m thinking about whether he will catch me if I come running.

But absolutely every last woman is watching me like they expect some kind of over-the-top reaction.

Swooning. Spite. They have a preference, but they’d probably accept either.

The weight of their eyeballs on me presses me down, squashing my outward enthusiasm for Shepherd until it’s a much more manageable size.

Practically nonexistent. I rein in the giant smile that almost overtook me and tack on a smirk.

“I see we’re all here already,” I say.

“We’re just about to eat. Come on in.” Ada waves me inside, shutting the door before any more cold air can sweep inside. The ladies will surely have a lot to discuss over brunch with the possibility of snow this week.

I cross the room and set my pies on the table next to an assortment of food. I spot a golden-brown loaf of Shepherd’s bread but don’t pay attention to the rest of the dishes. I’m too busy staring at my man.

“Callahan.”

I’m trying to keep things low-key, but the tiny quirk of his mouth throws a glitter bomb in my chest. Nothing but sparkly joy. We probably should have secretly met around the corner before book group to kiss for a while to take the edge off.

Why do I get all my good ideas when it’s too late to do anything about them?

“Krause.”

And now I’m imagining all the places we could meet up for clandestine kisses. It’s a long list.

But, no. Everyone’s still eyeing us. All except for Barb, who’s opening the pie boxes to see what varieties I brought. Thank goodness someone has a little decorum. Kind of.

“It’s so sweet of you to bring these, Wren.” She examines both and promptly serves a thin slice of each onto her plate .

“I aim to please.” I shoot Shepherd a look. “Sometimes.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m very pleased, Krause.” His deep voice twists something in my belly. If we’re trying to be chill about not hating each other anymore, I’m not going to make it very long when he talks to me like that.

Rosetta comes between us, empty plate in hand. “Thank goodness you’re both here today. I need to know if modern dating is as bleak as this book made it out to be.”

“No spoilers,” Nora calls as she fills her plate behind us.

Rosetta shoots her a quelling look. “It’s not a spoiler. It’s a reference question.”

“It is pretty grim out there.” Luckily, I haven’t had the same level of hilarious but horrible experiences the book’s heroine did, but I’ve had some real loser dates. Thanks to the magical love-bestowing hot spring, I think I’m on the right track now.

Which, sadly, I can’t say out loud. And probably wouldn’t even if I could. My private win isn’t for these ladies to pick apart and glory over.

“Finding only duds, Krause?” Shepherd doesn’t try very hard to sell the image we’re still at odds. His smirk is too close to a genuine smile. Like he’s gloating that those other guys didn’t work out.

I tip up my chin. “I’ve added to my Greek god requirements list since last book group. It’s a lot for any mortal man to live up to.”

“Any qualities you want to share?”

Um, no, actually. My list would be too specific for anyone to miss.

“I don’t want to crush your dreams all at once,” I tell him. “I’d rather do it slowly and really savor the experience.”

His eyes light like he’s imagining me savoring an entirely different experience. Oof. I can’t say anything to this man without him reading nonexistent spicy undertones in it .

Practically nonexistent spicy undertones.

“My dreams are ready to be slowly destroyed by you anytime.” His invitation drops between us like a gauntlet, the challenge in his eyes sparking the fuse that sets me on fire.

Look, I know there’s something wrong with me.

Everyone I love has told me dozens of times for a variety of reasons.

But saucy play-fighting with Shepherd gives me that burst of adrenaline you get on a really good rollercoaster.

Exhilaration with a twinge of fear from not knowing what’s coming next, a potent combination that’s instantly addictive. I need another ride.

Wait—no. I took it too far for book group.

Isabel slides over on our other side, boxing us in. “I agree with Rosetta. You two can tell us all about what it’s like to be single and dating. Maybe share some personal experiences. Most of us haven’t been in that scenario for fifty years.”

“Speak for yourself,” Fran says. “I am single from time to time.”

“I’m not sure I’ll have much to add.” I really don’t want to be in the hot seat while they grill me about dating apps and eligible men. I have very little experience with either. “I try to avoid that whole scene.”

“Krause, at a loss for words?” Shepherd’s teasing puts me right back at the top of the rollercoaster. “I’d love to see it.”

“I’ll just sit back and let you tell us about your impressive dating career. I’ve got thirty seconds to spare.”

His smirk is a thing of beauty. “Is that what you want? For me to go into detail about my dating life?”

I might gulp. I don’t want him to tell them about us.

Talking about a guy I don’t have feelings for is easy enough, but the idea of sharing about someone I do care about—more than any guy I’ve ever cared about—sends me reeling down that rollercoaster.

Only this time, my safety strap is loose, and I’m holding onto the grab-bar with all my might so I don’t go flying.

“Please, Callahan. Some of us are trying to eat.”

Isabel keeps glancing at him and then me, mentally wringing her hands over us. Guilt twists through my stomach that I’m intentionally causing her worry, but I can’t just blurt out the truth, even if Shepherd seems willing.

“What did you two think of that dancing idea?” Isabel’s romantic schemes for us are sinking before her eyes, but she’s bailing for all she’s worth. “Maybe we could all try two-stepping someday.”

“Not all of us.” Barb points a fork her direction. “I will gladly sit that one out. Besides, we’re only doing it to try to force those two?—”

“We’re agreed, then.” Ada slips in front of Barb before she can finish outing the group’s true intentions where we’re concerned. None of it’s subtle, but I’ll play stupid for their sakes. “We’ll go two-stepping in a week or two. In honor of the couple in our book, of course.”

“Two-stepping isn’t easy,” Nora says. “Everything I’ve researched says it takes skill to master.”

“I’m always up for showing off my skills. How about you, Krause?”

Shepherd sure is making it hard to be good. Or bad. Whichever version of myself has to snark and pretend I’m completely unaffected by him.

“I don’t dance.” I really don’t. Coordination is not one of my gifts.

“I’ll teach you everything I know.”

My belly dips as I imagine it. This man is the worst menace of them all.

For the record, sitting next to Shepherd and discussing romance book themes while I’m tied up in knots over him was a bad idea on all counts.

Naturally, the ladies tried to pair us up on a couch, but with limited seating inside, he refused to take one of the cozy chairs.

We’re on straight-back dining chairs while the older ladies enjoy the comfortable seats in the living room.

My back aches, but my heart is swooning over how much of a gentleman he can be.

A broody, saucy, flirty gentleman.

“I thought the big grovel was so romantic.” Rosetta gets a dreamy look on her face. “Standing up for her and learning how to sew to help her with her small business? That cowboy is an inspiration.”

Barb sniffs. “I thought it was overdone. Sewing ruins the masculine image of his rodeo riding past.”

I scoff. Traditional gender roles just don’t want to die out. “If anything, sewing made him more attractive. He did something totally outside of his comfort zone to support her. She didn’t ask him to, but he did it anyway because he needed to do it. For her. It’s extremely thoughtful and romantic.”

Nora coughs. “Do you happen to sew, Shepherd?”

“No, ma’am, but I’ve been thinking about learning how to crochet.”

That earns a round of oohs and aahs . The man knows how to work a crowd. And, apparently, me.

Why am I sitting here picturing teaching Shepherd how to crochet? Side by side, our shoulders pressed together while I demonstrate stitches. Maybe at his cabin while the fire’s going. It’s not even a romantic activity. And yet, my mushy heart loves the idea.

“Last time, you said you agreed with the hero that love is a lie, Wren. Do you still think that way now?” Ada watches me as calmly as an entomologist sticking me into place with a pin. Or more accurately, a heartless kid who rips the wings off of flies.