Page 54 of One Small Spark
“That’s what the app is for?”
“Yeah.” I flip it back on so he can see the graph making its way back to normal range. “The urgent alarms are a lot more grating than this one was.”
“He seems to be handling it well.”
“He’s a little champ.” I can’t help the surge of affection as I look over at August kicking his feet on the bench and watching the teens run the BMX track. “He doesn’t let anything stop him.”
After a minute of silence, I glance back at Callahan again. He’s got that heady mix of admiration,etcetera,in his eyes once more. “What?”
“It’s sweet,” he says again, so softly, it wraps around me like a hug.
I’m not the “sweet” type. I’ve given him plenty of proof that’s not my default setting. But when he calls me that, I almost believe it could be.
A breeze drifts over us, making me wish I’d brought a second blanket. Or that Callahan’s figurative hug were a literal one. But honestly, the warmth in his gaze does a pretty solid job of staving off the chill on its own.
“I have to get back to the shop,” he says after another minute. “I’m glad I ran into you.”
“Me, too.” That small admission makes my face heat as if I confessed my undying devotion. But after the way I’ve talked to him for so long, any little concession feels huge. Beinggladto see him reveals plenty.
He shifts to lean closer to me. I have the insane thought he’s moving in for a kiss—followed by the even more insane impulse to meet him halfway. But he doesn’t get that far.
“Are you sure you don’t want that ride on Friday?” he asks.
I open my mouth to shoot down the offer, but…it’s not a horrible plan. Carpooling is good for the environment and all. It would save wear and tear on my car’s shock absorption system. Something along those lines.
His brown eyes sparkle, and I realize just how obvious I’m being. Can’t have that.
“I can drive by myself.” Factual. And neatly avoids answering his actual question.
He nods as if he expected this. “Then I’ll save you a seat for when you get there.”
Why does that not sound like any less of a date than him picking me up and driving me there himself?
Callahan stands and gazes down at me. “Thanks for letting me share your picnic.”
I wave my hand, brushing off his thanks for the chips I shared. Next time, I’ll be prepared with an actual picnic for both of us, not just August.
Wait, next time? I’m making plans to prepare apicnicfor the guy? I’ve completely lost it.
“Bye,” I say before my thoughts get totally out of hand.
He walks away, pausing to say goodbye to August at the BMX track. I watch him stride up the path that leads to the parking lot back there, eating up the casual way he shoves his hands in his jeans pockets. There’s something so confident and unconcerned about him that’s massively intriguing.
Just before he reaches the edge of the park, he turns back and catches me staring after him. He lifts a hand, and mine automatically raises in return. Then he continues on, disappearing into the parking lot.
I thought I was playing it cool with Callahan, but the warmth washing through me from his low-key goodbye says I am anything but.
SIXTEEN
SHEPHERD
Supposedly,the customer is always right. In this case, the customer has the wordWrongglaring over his head in bright neon.
“I like this bike, Daddy.” A little girl has a mountain bike out of its slot, hands clutching the seat and handlebar like she’s ready to ride it home. Her eyes rake over it as if the bike is better than Christmas and Hanukkah combined.
“I think this one is meant for you, honey.” Her dad’s at the other end of the rack next to a pink bike that’s at least a size smaller than the girl needs, with white streamers and a wicker basket on the front.
It’s nowhere close to the bike meant for off-roading that his daughter’s claimed. She’s got to be eight or nine, and he’s trying to get her onto a bike we typically sell to four- and five-year-olds.
