Page 41 of One Small Spark
A few years back, when Charlie started adding more cabins to the lodge, I built one on a secluded section of my family’s property. It’s less than a mile from the houses where my parents and sister live, but we don’t share access roads. Nobody comes to my little slice of the forest by accident.
So the sound of a car crawling up my gravel drive is hard to miss.
I glance out the front window expecting to find Leo’s SUV rolling up. He sometimes drops in with food and the excuse of whatever game is on TV. But I have to blink my eyes a couple of times when I see Wren’s tiny sedan stop out front next to my truck.
She gets out, gazing at my cabin. It isn’t as upscale as the ones Charlie’s been adding to the resort, but it’s a solid, comfortable A-frame. Wren’s looking at it like she expected to find a ramshackle lean-to with my underwear hanging on a clothesline right out front.
I open the door, catching her with her fist up to knock. She startles, her eyes flying wide.
“Oh. Hi.”
It took her some effort to get out here to see me, so the confusion in her greeting doesn’t make much sense. But like most things between us, I roll with it.
“Hey.”
She opens her mouth but then swallows down whatever she wants to say. Her gaze darts to where my hand rests on the doorframe.
The lean wasn’t intentional, I swear. I appreciate the color rising in her cheeks, though.
I drop my hand and wait for…whatever it is she came to say.
Nerves seem to wrap around her like a too-tight sweater. I’ve been frustrated with both of us since she accepted that date, and agitated for the last twenty-four hours, trying not to think about heronit. But I don’t want her feeling small and anxious around me, like she has to be careful with her words. I’d rather have her fire.
I step back, opening the door wider. “Do you want to come in?”
“Um. Sure. Thanks.” She steps in over the threshold, the scent of soil after a rainstorm following her in. “I came by to?—”
A strangled sound escapes her. If she was surprised by my cabin’s exterior, she’s gobsmacked by the interior.
“You have a rolling ladder.” She drifts across the room as if under its spell.
My cabin’s bigger than the guest lodging, but it’s still just one room down here, with two small bedrooms upstairs. To maximize space, I built floor to ceiling bookshelves on one wall. A rolling ladder made the most sense for accessing the uppermost shelves.
Plus, it looks cool.
She walks past the sofa and the reading lamp to reach the bookshelves, staring open-mouthed. She grabs the rolling ladder in one hand, seemingly tempted to climb it.
“They’re not displays, right? You’ve read them? Or plan to?” She runs her fingertips along spines as if she can’t stop herself from touching the books.
“No. They’re movie props. I bought them on eBay to give the cabin some ambience.”
She grabs a book, pulls it out, and flips through the pages. “It’s real. And…annotated.”
Well. She went straight for my Greek mythology collection.
“You don’t think much of me if you have to ask if my books are real.” Who would put up a wall of fake books in the first place?
To be fair, I haven’t read them all. But I have good intentions for tackling the ones I haven’t gotten around to yet.
“I don’t know what I think anymore.” She speaks so softly, I’m not sure she means for me to hear it.
Fair enough.
She puts the book back but continues browsing, pausing now and then to read titles. If I’m not mistaken, she deeply inhales, smelling them before stopping to admire one of the black and white photos on display. “This is pretty.”
“Thanks. That waterfall’s not far from here.”
Wren spins to face me. “You took the picture?”
