Page 29 of One Small Spark
Suddenly, a body wedges between us. I’m ready to throw an elbow at all this crowding when I look up and realize it’s Callahan.
“Sorry I’m late, kitten.”
Sometimes in romance novels, the hero’s voice is described as a “purr.” I’ve always thought it a flowery and borderline impossible illustration. Men don’t make sounds like that, I’m sorry. But there’s no better word for the way Callahan’s deep voice rolls across my skin. Hepurrs.
He’s gazing down, eyes dark and warm, and the tension drains out of me. I’mrelievedto have him here. I’m borderline giddy, like I’m filled with champagne bubbles, all because he showed up.
What. Is. Happening?
He turns slightly as though just now noticing the guy who’d been pushing for my name. “Are you waiting for the bartender?”
His question is casual, but carries an undercurrent to it that says the dude had better not be waiting for anything else.
The guy grimaces. “No. I’m all set.”
He walks away, blending into the chaos of The Stumpjumper.
Which, by the way, I plan to point out to Hope and Lila was a terrible place for a girls’ night. I much prefer eating my weight in loaded fries at Delish than fending off pushy guys in a bar.
Now that the jerk’s gone, Callahan gives me an inch of space. I instantly wish we were still touching.
I must be coming down with something. A weird sickness that makes me crave Callahan? There’d better be a cure.
“Are you okay?”
He’s concerned for me, but there’s a layer of protectiveness to the way he’s watching me, too. He’s hulking out again, just like those heroes in the monster romances Lila keeps talking about. I didn’t think actual guys did that, but here we are.
It’s confusing. Almost as much as my visceral reaction to him.
“I’m fine. I know a few self-defense moves if he’d pushedhis luck.”
This just deepens Callahan’s scowl. He turns and looks across the bar as if searching for the guy to make sure he’s keeping his distance.
I mean, I don’t know that. I’m making it all up in my head. But when his gaze meets mine again, the fiery look in his eyes makes me think he’d gladly confront that jerk.
We go to one romance book club together, and suddenly, he’s my hero?
I’m going to ignore the elephant-sized kiss in the room. It was just the hottest kiss of my life. Totally unrelated. No need to bring it up.
The bartender finally takes my order. Callahan adds a second cider to mine, and the gal behind the bar whisks away again.
It’s time to pull myself together and get this under control. I shift my hands to my hips in a power stance, my arm brushing his.
“I would never accept the nickname kitten, by the way.”
“What should I call you?” He needs to stop using his deep, intoxicating voice on me. It’s distracting. I hate it.
I hate how much I don’t hate it.
I think for a minute. Nobody’s ever given me a romantic nickname before. Right now, hearing him say my name would be enough, but I can’t blurt that out at a bar.
“Goddess.” What I’d intended for snark comes out closer to a plea. This evening is sliding right off the rails. Should we go in the back and make out again?
I mean…should we?
“Done.”
He touches his hand to the small of my back. It’s featherlight but rocks through me like the whole-body shudder right before you fall asleep. This isn’t okay. I’m not thinking likemyself. Whatever magic he’s weaving, I need to find a spell to block it.
