Page 30 of One Small Spark
“What are you doing here, Callahan?”
“Leo dragged me out.”
There’s another one of Callahan’s mysteries. He’s best friends with Leo Dalesandro, former NFL star center and whirlwind of down-to-earth friendliness. From what I’ve heard, they’ve been buddies since they were kids. It has to be a case of an extrovert taking an introvert under his wing, I just can’t figure out why. Callahan is broody, sarcastic, and doesn’t seem to reallyenjoypeople. Peak lone wolf stuff.
Leo is definitely a pack animal.
“He’s assimilated into your group, FYI.”
I turn back to our table and spot Leo sitting between Grant and his brother, talking while gesturing broadly with his hands. A sigh gusts out of me. “Girls’ night is officially out the window.”
“Were you trying to have a night to yourselves?”
“Iwas. Hope and Lila had their own plans. We hardly ever get a night out now that everyone’s hooked up. I just wanted some bonding time with my girls.” I sound way too disappointed over a simple thing like adding a few extras to our evening out. “I need to make more single friends.”
What a sad sack. All my friends have boyfriends, woe is me. Pathetic.
Even more pathetic?Callahanis the one I’m confiding in.
“I’m sure Fran would be happy to have a night on the town with you.”
I laugh in spite of myself. Then I imagine how a night out with the flirty seventy-something might actually go and laugh even harder. Things could get wild. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that much excitement.”
I pause, staring at him mid-laugh. Callahan actually cheeredme up. He took my frown and turned it upside down. Just like the rest of me, apparently.
The bartender finally returns with our frothy glasses of cider. Callahan pays for both before I can get my cash out.
“I owe you a drink,” I tell him as we head back to the table.
“You don’t.”
“Mr. Vintage Bowling shirt insisted on buying me a drink, too.”
He scowls. “Fine. You can buy me a drink.”
“Fine.”
At the table, I take my seat next to Hope. Callahan sits at the last open space at the opposite end. I’m not disappointed. This is good. The best, probably, since I need some room to clear my head. Shake out all these Callahan-related cobwebs.
It’s hard to do when our kiss still lives in my bones, sending out shockwaves every time I think about it. Which, obviously, I don’t. That would be crazy. I’m trying to forget it.
But nobody’s ever kissed me like that. Like I’m the oxygen he needs to survive. Like nothing else exists in the world beyond us. Like he’s been holding himself back and is finally set free.
I take a big gulp of my cider. I can’t wax rhapsodic about Callahan in a bar.You’re better than this, Wren.
Conversations move around the table, but I barely participate. Every time I look his way, Callahan’s watching me. The creeper. Except, that means I’m looking at him just as often. We must both be creeps.
I need to rise above him and not take his bait. Keep my eyes on my half of the table. Definitely not look at his mouth from six feet away like a weirdo. Focus.
Grant’s brother turns to me. Rhett is several years younger than him, so about my age. Despite the age gap, they’re obviously related—his hair’s a little lighter, but they share the same blue eyes and mega-watt smile. He’s built similarly, too, if afew inches shorter. Unlike Grant, Baby Adonis is a shameless flirt.
“What do you do for nightlife around here, Wren?” He flashes his big smile at me as if he’s already charmed by the answer I haven’t given yet.
“You’re doing it.” I raise my glass to toast him, but my gaze darts to Callahan like a little psycho.
He’s leaning back in the uncomfortable bar chair as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. His casual confidence is mildly aspirational and majorly irritating. Nothing’s bothering him right now? Like, I don’t know, that crazy kiss in the alley?
Because he doesn’t care, Wren. It was all part of his twisted mind games. Probably.
