Page 16 of One Small Spark
I’m not much of an optimist, but sometimes if I catch her off guard, her first impulse when she sees me is to smile. It used to be, once. Maybe I keep coming in here in the hopes it finally will be again.
A younger guy wearing the dark purple Blackbird’s apron moves across from me behind the counter. “Hi there,” he enthuses. “How can I help you?”
They’ve hired on a few new employees in the last couple of months. It makes my visits to the bakery trickier. Unlike her sister, they haven’t learned yet I’m only here for Wren. But maybe I can get some information out of the guy whose name tag readsJamie.
“What’s new on the menu?” I ask. Lately, Wren’s been experimenting with flavors. I’m guessing, since I don’t have much to go on, but she’s the one who makes the most unusual varieties.
The guy grins wider. “We just added a peanut butter and banana pie, a pear pie, and a cranberry silk pie for fall, in addition to our regular menu flavors.”
He waves a hand at the large chalkboard sign on the wall that I already have memorized.
“Those sound hard to make.”
Wren side-eyes me from behind the register where she’s ringing out her customer. Her lips twitch like she’s dying to react. Too bad she’s stuck in service mode and can’t do it. Icome in during lulls to maximize the opportunity to talk with her. And because when this place is packed, I break out into a sweat.
“I’m pretty new here, so I still make basic pies like apple and pumpkin. But our specialty pies are made by the masters.” Jamie makes a flourishing gesture at Wren as if she’s royalty. “Today, Maureen made the peanut butter and banana pies, and Wren made the cranberry silk pies. I think the pear pie is just like making an apple one, though.”
Thank you, Jamie.
As soon as Wren’s customer is out the door, her smile drops. She turns toward me in slow motion, her lashes fluttering. The glare she shoots me scrambles my synapses.
It’s messed up, but at this point, I want anything she’ll give me.
“Why do you want to know how hard it is to make our pies, Callahan?” she asks. “Planning on adding to Get in Gear’s offerings?”
I pretend to consider it. “That’s not a bad idea. ‘Biking with Pies.’ I see no issues there.”
“You can pair it with your bread.”
“Aw, Krause. Still thinking about this weekend and my…bread?”
Her mouth thins. A shame, since her plush lips knock me out. “I’m thinking about how you wormed your way into my romance book club.”
She’s still big mad about the book club. I expected that. Pretty sure there’s nothing I could do that wouldn’t have a result like this. Move away, maybe, but what would be the fun in that?
“You guys are in a romance book club?” Jamie’s gaze bounces between the two of us. “Cool. What are you reading?”
“Cowboys,” Wren says without looking at him. “What’s your real angle there, Callahan?”
I affect my most innocent tone. “Isn’t it enough to enjoy the wonders of reading with good friends?”
“Not when those sweet ladies could easily be taken advantage of.”
She really thinks I’m villain enough to scam them somehow? I drop my teasing and hope she’ll hear what I say. “I would never do anything to harm those women. When Rosetta invited me, it sounded like fun. Even I need to be around people sometimes, Wr?—”
I catch myself and correct before I say something I’ll wish back. “Krause.”
Her expression softens minutely. A rare win in these confrontations.
“It’s not fair you got in the group while I was still begging to be invited.”
She’s jealous. Maybe even hurt that she wasn’t included when she wanted to be. Her frustration with me is misplaced—I’m just a guest at the party. But I know how to stop her feeling sorry for herself. Not the way Iwantto, but the remedy at my disposal.
I smirk. “I’m sorry I missed that. I’d love to see you beg.”
Her eyes narrow, self-pity cast aside. “You don’t have anything I’d beg for.”
“Are you sure?” Slowly, I move one hand to the opposite cuff of my open flannel shirt and start to loosen the buttons.
