Page 122 of Make Mine Sweet
I’ve got a dopey smile on my face when I ring the bell of the classic single-level ranch house. I haven’t been this excited to be part of a group since middle school. Maybe it’s silly, but it’smine. And I need something that’s all mine right about now.
Ada swings the entry door open wide. Her chic gray bob accentuates her sharp eyes and bright smile. “Well, if it isn’t the newest member of our little enclave. Welcome in, Wren.”
She waves me inside, and I step over the threshold into the cozy home.
Enclave. I like that. I’m one of the lucky few included in their super-secret, ultra-exclusive?—
“Callahan?”
A dozen or so older women mingling throughout the open-concept living room and kitchen turn at my outburst. But standing in the middle of them wearing a blue flannel shirt layered over a black tee like a grunge rocker among cardigan-clad grandmas is Shepherd Callahan.
How is this my life?
For a second, he’s frozen mid-conversation, a polite smile stuck on his face. But then it morphs into a smirk I know all too well.
That smirk sets my teeth on edge and makes my heart rate kick up as I wait for his next move. He’s way too amused, like he knows something I don’t. Ihatehim knowing things I don’t. And right now, I’m so far out of the loop, I’m not entirely sure what the loopis.
Ada leads me to the kitchen table and I set down the pies, but I don’t take my eyes off of Callahan. What the heck is he even doing here? It seems doubtful any of these ladies had a bicycle break down on their way to book club and had to call an emergency mechanic. So? What gives?
Ada introduces me to the other women. I nod along, but I can’t pretend I’m memorizing anybody’s names. Safe to say I’m too distracted by the Callahan of it all.
Finally, she gestures between the two of us. “I’m guessing introductions aren’t necessary here.”
He shoves his hand out to me, ready to be properly introduced. I roll my eyes and lightly smack it away, but that’s a mistake. Touching him is always a mistake. A zing of awareness lights up a panel somewhere in my nervous system labeledInconvenient Attraction. It’s like my body never got the memo that the man’s a life-ruiner, and instead gets fixated on useless things likewarm, strong hands.
He makes a rumbly sound in the back of his throat, as amused with me as ever.
“Fill your plates,” Isabel instructs. “We’re pretending it’s still summer and having our discussion on the back deck.”
“The patio warmers are already toasty for us,” Ada adds. “And we’ve got a big stack of blankets if you need an extra layer.”
It’s only early October, but I still expect some kind of complaint from the group. Nobody seems fazed by the revelation, though. I would have worn more than the light hoodie I’ve got on if I’d known we’d be hanging around outside for book club.
Right now, the chill in the air isn’t my most pressing concern.
Callahan shifts to the back of the crowd around the table, letting everyone else go first as if he’s some kind of gentleman. I’m waiting for him to realize he wandered into the wrong house by mistake and sneak out, but my dreams remain dashed.
Rosetta, Sunshine’s library director, turns from the food to face me. Her silver-streaked hair is twisted into a braided bun atop her head like an ornate crown. “We’re happy to have you with us today, Wren. It’ll be good to hear another young person’s opinions on our book.”
“Who is the other young person in the group?” I ask. Because the obvious answer makes no sense.
“I can’t decide if that means you think I’m not in the group or not a young person.” Callahan’s low voice is like a shiver up my spine, equal parts pleasant and unsettling.
“Only one of us is under thirty.” I’ve still got a year to go. Not even Callahan can take that away from me.
Rosetta chuckles. “We have a more generous definition than that.”
“Krause can be a stickler with details,” Callahan says, eyes on me.
“That’s a relief,” the woman next to Rosetta pipes up. Janet, I think. “Most of us forget the finer details of the books before we ever get together to discuss the…ahem…broader aspects.”
They’ll be sincerely disappointed in me, then, since I was expecting to discuss thebroader aspects, too. By which I assume we mean the kilt-wearing hero.
But I should probably come up with something a little more specific to say about the actual romance. “Well…I think the hero believing that love is a lie is relatable for most?—”
Rosetta raises a hand to stop me. “Oh no, no, no. No literary discussion just yet. Not until we’ve got our food and are settled in.”
“There’s a structure to it,” Isabel says.
