Page 47 of One Small Spark (Love in Sunshine #4)

THIRTY-THREE

WREN

Holidays at Blackbird’s are always criminally busy, but Thanksgiving is the worst offender.

Someone’s in the back making pies during all business hours so we can keep up with the demand.

Our normally moderate crowds turn into an unending flow of customers, most of them frazzled and making last-minute purchases for their special dinners. My pores ooze pumpkin.

But the income boost helps tide us over during slower seasons, so I can’t complain.

Ha. Not true. I go into great detail in my complaints.

The day is winding to a close and Jamie and I are cleaning out front. Tess is in the back finishing up with prep work for tomorrow, and Mom is probably somewhere at home making out with Daniel.

It’s fine.

My favorite customer walks through Blackbird’s door, decked out in multiple forms of flannel and worn gray jeans. The smile that pops onto my face when I see Shepherd is automatic. Like a reflex or buying up every sarcastic shirt I see.

He approaches the counter, gaze stuck on me.

We haven’t been able to see each other nearly enough since the other night.

Our big night. Where we showed how we feel about each other with mouths, hands, and a whole lot of skin.

I went to his house the next night, but it was a pie-baking day, and I fell asleep while we cuddled on his couch.

I drooled on him, which was mortifying enough, but he somehow saw it as endearing.

The bar seems low for his affection if drooling on the man makes the cut. Probably a good thing for me.

“What can I get you, Shepherd?” Jamie is an eager beaver.

I wave him off. “I’ve got him, thank you.”

I consider trying to temper my grin, but it’s too late in the day to put on an act. I let my smile hang out like that couple at the hot spring. All the way out.

“What’s your favorite pie in the case today?” How can a perfectly simple question get this weird bubbling sensation going in my stomach? Am I giddy ? Over Shepherd?

Gross.

I hope it never stops.

I squint at the pie case as if I don’t know. “We’ve got a new flavor this week.” My hands go stupidly sweaty. “It’s a chocolate silk pie with a pretzel crust, topped with bourbon cream.”

Realization tips his mouth up ever so slowly. “That sounds amazing, Wren.”

He could tone down how flattered he looks. It’s not like I got a tattoo for him.

“It’s our most popular pie today.” I lift a shoulder. “After pumpkin, but that doesn’t count this close to Thanksgiving.”

The number of pumpkins that have given their lives to the cause this week is appalling.

“I don’t mind being second. I’ll take a whole pie, please.”

“We don’t have any whole pies left in the case.” I hate how his little smile drops. He thinks I didn’t plan ahead for this? “But I might have saved you one in the back. ”

I slip through the swinging door, passing Tess wrapping a cake to decorate tomorrow.

I open one of the industrial refrigerators and grab the pie I set aside from my first batch this afternoon.

I’d thought about bringing him the tester pie I made earlier in the week to try it with him but couldn’t do it.

If it’d turned out awful, we’d be eating bites of crappy pie together. Nobody wants that.

“We reserve pies back here all the time, you know.” Tess watches me pull several cautionary sticky notes off the pie box. “You didn’t have to word those threats in such detail.”

“It got my point across.”

She shakes her head at me, but goes back to finishing up at her workstation. Good. I don’t want her snooping around in my private life the way I do in hers.

Out front, Jamie’s helping a customer who walked in just before we close for the night. I round the counter and hand the boxed pie to Shepherd. “On the house.”

The pie-lust in his eyes fades into something stern, but I hold up a hand before he can argue. He can fix up my whole bike, but I can’t give him a pie? No way. “We’ll figure something out. But you get that one for being the inspiration behind it.”

Oh, no. Is my smile shy ? Why am I like this? Just because I’m bursting with hope he likes the pie flavor pairings I came up with while thinking about him? Silly goose.

But his return smile is wildly reassuring.

“Also, it’s kind of an apology. I don’t think I’ll have the energy to come over until after Thanksgiving.

I’m so exhausted in the evenings, and tomorrow I’m on August duty.

” I don’t want to admit it might be even longer—with all those pies Charlie ordered for Moonlight Lodge’s gala, we’ll be swamped more than usual next week, too.

I’d try harder to carve out an hour or two for him, but he really didn’t like me driving home in the dark when I was so tired the other night. Ramping up his anxiety like that isn’t worth it.

My house isn’t really an option, for obvious reasons.

His mouth quirks. “What about Thanksgiving? My family eats dinner at mid-day.”

“I like the way you think.” And am way too excited to have that on my calendar to look forward to.

He watches me for another minute, silently challenging. I can guess what he wants me to do. I just don’t have it in me. I’ve always hated losing to him in our face-offs, but I can’t kiss Shepherd Callahan in my bakery.

“See you tomorrow, Wren,” he finally says.

I nod, wishing I had the courage to just lay one on him. Just smooch the heck out of him and not worry about the consequences.

Except, why don’t I? Jamie’s the only one out here to bear witness, and who cares what strangers on Maple Street think? I’ve never let their opinions bother me before.

I jog through the store to catch up with him just outside on the sidewalk. It’s dark already, but he’s fully illuminated by the glow of the bakery. “Shepherd.”

He turns, and I grab the lapels of his flannel shirt, tugging him down to meet me.

He’s more than willing, wrapping his free hand around my waist as his mouth meets mine.

We’re like those old-timey couples kissing one last time before one of them ships off to war.

Only, in this case, the war is the lunacy of the Thanksgiving holiday.

When I finally pull back, he’s smirking up a storm. “Can that come extra with all my pies?”

“Cheeky.” I press another quick kiss to his mouth. “But good idea.”

We part, and he backs toward his shop. “Goodnight, goddess. ”

Unfair of him to use that nickname when I’m trying to be a force of self-control and restraint.

“Goodnight, cheeseball.”

Jamie’s customer leaves the bakery, and I hold the door open for him before walking back through.

I’m contemplating the wisdom of going over to Shepherd’s tonight even though I have to wake up at five in the morning, but I stop short in the middle of the store.

Hope is leaning against the pass-through wall between our shops, a giant grin eating up her face.

I try to erase mine, but my post-Shepherd glow probably gives away even more than the floaty expression.

“Things have progressed, I see.” She might as well be twisting her handlebar mustache like a cartoon villain.

I smooth out my apron and tip my chin up. “You didn’t see anything.”

“No, we saw it.” Jamie’s not exactly gunning for employee of the month.

I roll my eyes at him, but head over to Hope, who’s grinning her pretty little head off. “Please tone it down. Your gloating is interfering with people’s WiFi connections.”

“I would just like to say, ‘I told you so.’”

I can’t even hold onto my mad face. That’s how mushy I am over Shepherd. “Congratulations. You’re smarter than I am, blah, blah, blah. You win.”

“Are you happy?”

My heart flutters its answer, which luckily, she can’t hear. “Why do you have to go and ask a question like that? That’s ridiculous.”

“I’m going to take that outburst as a ‘yes.’ I’m happy for you, too.”

“Stop it. Gross. We’re not doing this.” I’ve never been on the receiving end of Hope’s romantic enthusiasm. It’s pretty soon to judge, but I’d call it a love-hate thing. Like a grandma hug that’s comforting at first but goes on way too long.

“Will Shepherd join us for our next night out?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t asked him.” I smooth out my apron, running my fingers over the pocket. “But probably, yes.”

Hopefully, our next night out isn’t for a while. I need time to get past my urge to poke people in the eye just for seeing us together.

Hope squeals silently, shimmying her shoulders. Best friends who love you too much are the worst.

“Do your mom and Tess know?”

I glance at the door that leads into the back. It’s lucky for me Tess is too obsessed with her cakes to hang out in the front lately. She might even have a wedding cake she’s working on for this weekend. “I haven’t told anybody.”

And really, do I have to? I don’t need to go into detail about my dating life to satisfy their curiosity. So what if I’m happier than I’ve ever been? That’s not their business, is it? That info is on a need-to-know basis.

Hope tries to get a severe face going. “How long do you think you can keep it a secret? You obviously can’t keep your hands off him.”

My dopey smile returns, sending Hope into fresh paroxysms of secondhand joy. A best friend you can’t keep your hands off of. I never knew it until he said it, but that’s exactly what I want, too.

“Oh. I have some non-Shepherd news to tell you.”

She starts beaming again. “You call him Shepherd now.”

“Quit it.” But I’m shining brightly, too. “I got an apartment.”

“Really? When did this happen?”

“Just a few days ago.” I can’t think about what else happened that weekend or we’ll both turn into sappy loons. “It’s really cute. Nobody knows about that, either. ”

The smile falls off her face. “Wren. You need to tell people things.”

I blow out a breath. “I know. I will. In my own way.”

Maybe I’ll write a group email. Send them a voice note. Glue together words from the newspaper in a ransom-style letter.