Page 9 of One Small Spark
I twist to watch her stalk across the patio, open one of the doors, and step inside. When she turns around, the spark of defiance in her eyes could burn down this entire neighborhood. I’m already on fire, smoldering insilence.
She rests one shoulder against the door frame, arms crossed. “Look at me all casual and manly. I’m leaning.”
She goes on glaring at me as though she thinks she’s showing me up. She’s so cute.
“Or they do a one-hand version.” She shifts and places a hand on the door frame at about eye level. “All I have to offer you are these two hands and the kilt on my back.”
She’s deepened her voice and narrowed her eyes, doing her best Blue Steel. Behind me, the ladies chuckle at her impersonation of a generic romance book hero.
Wren slides her hand higher in the doorway and turns toward the frame, raising her other hand as though caressing an invisible face. “I’m not like other guys. I’m…built different.”
Her saucy wink at her audience tears a laugh from me.
“What about the one where their hands are on the top of the doorframe?” Fran asks.
Wren lifts her arms, but her fingertips only graze the wood.
Rosettatsks. “I guess we need Shepherd, after all.”
I get up before I think to do it. I don’t love this much attention on me. I don’t like performing and I’m terrible under pressure. A shiver of anxiety washes through my stomach, but I can’t pass up this opportunity. I’m at the doorway in a few steps, staring down at Wren. I lift my hands, easily resting them on the frame above us.
Her blond hair is wild today, loose and free, unlike the slick ponytails she prefers when she’s working in the bakery. I catalogue her sassy hoodie, the latest in a seemingly endless collection of shirts printed with sarcastic sayings. Even though it’s torture, I breathe her in. She rotates her perfumes, so I never know what I’m going to get. Today, I fill my lungs with a fresh, citrusy scent.
I lean down a touch, tilting my head closer to hers. She glares up at me, her chest rising and falling with quick breaths.My nearness affects her, but I’m not naive enough to trust that she’ll magically drop her walls. She’d rather fight with me than fall into my arms.
I don’t pick up on subtle flirting cues and am far from smooth, myself. If I thought she legitimately hated me, I would keep my distance. But this…it’s not hate. I don’t know what this dance we’re doing is, but I can’t make myself give it up.
Wren licks her lips, staring at me as if waiting to see what I’ll do next. Like with most of our dance, I let her take the lead.
Doesn’t mean I can’t push her a little.
“Okay there, kitten?” I ask low.
She huffs out a breath, placing both hands on my chest to move me out of her way. I step aside, but her touch lingers as she brushes past, leaving my skin heated and my fool heart wishing for more.
After closing the door, I follow her to our loveseat, where we’re flooded with appreciation from the rest of the book group.
“Thanks for indulging us, you two.” Ada beams as though we acted out the entire book. “That was very helpful.”
“Yes. Very illuminating.” Rosetta sounds a little too pleased for my taste.
“Maybe we should do some more,” Fran says.
“Hmm.” Wren seems to think about it. “The heroine in our book kneed the hero in the face. We could demonstrate that.”
“They were in a compromising position when that happened,” I point out. “How book-accurate do you want to be for our demo?”
She purses her pink lips. “I don’t see you wearing a kilt.”
“Ask nicely and you might.”
Her lips part as if to fire off something else.
“Maybe we should get back on topic,” Nora says. “Like the heroine’s predicament of needing to marry to keep her estate.”
They discuss inheritance laws and societal norms of thetime. Barb is almost feral to share all the facts she’s researched. Talk gradually moves from Regency England to the patriarchy and back to kilts for some reason. Finally, before wrapping up for the day, we vote on next month’s reading options. In a close vote, a contemporary wins out.
“Phew,” Wren says. “I’ll be glad to get back into the modern world. It was a little annoying to read about a character five years younger than me, lamenting how she’s never going to find a man. Have some dignity, girl.”
