Page 83 of One Small Spark
“So gross. Smells, security issues, weird landlord vibes.”
I refuse to let my imagination run free with that one. Definitely don’t want her in a place that makes her uncomfortable.
“I wish I didn’t tell Leo he could stay in my old cabin, or I’d let you live in it.” I’m already considering kicking him out. He would find a place just fine.
“How do you have two houses? Seems like millionaire stuff.”
“It’s buying extensive property sixty years ago stuff. My grandparents built a house for themselves and two small cabins for employees when they ran the lodge. My parents took over the house and let Charlie and I live in the smaller ones when we were old enough. So that cabin’s not legally mine, but if Leo weren’t in it, it would be yours for the taking.”
“You wouldn’t mind me going through your old stuff?”
“No. I like the idea of you in my bedroom.”
Her cheeks go pink, but she flashes me a haughty look. “A man with big dreams.”
“No doubt.”
She sips from her water glass, her eyes scanning the restaurant. When they land back on me, she pins me with a silent challenge. The slight eyebrow raise she gives me when we banter that saysI dare you.
“How is your trails presentation going? Should I start looking for soft tomatoes?”
I chuckle softly. I guess my assumptions about what she was thinking got away with me there. “Not yet.”
She waits, apparently leaving her taunting behind. She and Lila must be on the same page tonight. This wasn’t my preferred topic of conversation.
“I’m getting close. I think. But it’s hard to judge when my imposter syndrome makes me think every idea I have is going to get booed.”
It’s a mostly technical presentation filled with verifiable facts and figures, but I’m still dragging my feet over it as though it’s my magnum opus. Mostly because every word is going to have to come out of my mouth. If someone else were giving it, I wouldn’t think twice.
Her gaze softens. “I would never guess that about you. You’re always so confident.”
“I’ve perfected my act.” Not something I would admit to anybody else.
She hitches a shoulder. “So have I.”
I shift one hand to the center of the table, palm up. She eyes it, and I almost think she’s going to resist. But she slides hers against mine, locking her fingers around me. Perfect.
“I’m sorry I keep joking abouttomatoes,” she says. “Nobody’s going to boo you. I’m sure your presentation will convince everybody at that town hall.”
“You haven’t heard it yet.”
“No. But I know you care about biking and the trails. You can be really convincing about the things that spark your passion.”
I bask in that praise, determined not to ruin it with the sexy retort I want to make. What else can I convince you of, kitten?
“Stop with the smirking.” Her scolding doesn’t have much weight when she’s doing the same thing.
“I’m hearing that I’ve convinced you to let me rehab your bike.” It’s a weird thing to want, but it combines my two favorite things. Restoring an old bike for the woman I’m crazy about? Don’t make me beg.
“Maybe. But only because August keeps asking me to ride with him.”
“This is happening.” Even more so for August than me.
Our meals arrive, cheesy pastas with a hearty loaf of bread to share. Wren slathers a piece with butter and takes a generous bite. Her nose scrunches as she chews.
“Not good?” I ask.
“Not as good as yours,” she says after she swallows. “What’s your secret?”
