Page 109 of One Small Spark
“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 goflying.
“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 herandlearning 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 ofoohsandaahs. 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 ascalmly as an entomologist sticking me into place with a pin. Or more accurately, a heartless kid who rips the wings off of flies.
Have I really changed my mind about something so huge after six short weeks? Maybe the bigger question: has Shepherd changed my mind? Do I really feel different down in my bones, or am I trying to be the sunshine girl who believes in love to get him to stay?
My heart races, my body going tingly as if I finally flew right out of the rollercoaster. Like those nightmares where I lose gravity and jump way up high into the sky, only to start plummeting back down again.
At least in my dreams, I wake up before I hit the ground.
