“Maybe I need more romance in my life.”
I snort. “That wouldn’t be hard to achieve.”
He quirks his eyebrows at me. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
I make a tiny sound of disgust. Naturally, he would take what I say the opposite of how I mean it.
“Are you two ready?” Ada calls from the kitchen. “Better get your food before there’s nothing left to eat.”
“That won’t happen,” he whispers like we’re sharing secrets back here. Which I suppose we are. “They always send me home with leftovers.”
“Is that why you come here? For the free food?”
“You’ve figured out my scam, Krause. Brilliant sleuthing. Are we done in the hallway or did you want to hold my hand some more?”
My mouth falls open, but I’m pretty sure anything I want to say would get me kicked out of Ada’s house. I storm past him, ignoring the hand he’s holding out to me and knocking my shoulder against his in the process. The move is always so perfectly dismissive in the movies, but in real life, it’s more like an unintended full-body caress.
Sick burn, Wren.
We’re the last to fill our plates. I keep my focus trained on the food, willing my brain to erase the last five minutes of sensory input. I can still salvage this, Callahan notwithstanding. Just because he somehow managed to score an invite to their book club first doesn’t mean I can’t prove myself to be a valuable part of the group. What would he even have to say about romance books?
I kind of hate how much I want to know.
Outside, I’m in for another unpleasant surprise—the ladies have taken up all available seating except for a snug-looking wicker loveseat. They’ve thoughtfully draped a blanket over one cushion, as if inviting Callahan and me to share it.
Ha. Never.
He sits, and I can’t help but notice his jeans-clad thigh doesn’t quite stay on his half of the loveseat. I hover behind him, staring at the sliver of leg that’s clearly crossed a boundary.
“Come sit down, Wren,” Isabel says amid the low chatter. “Shepherd won’t bite.”
He looks up at me. Something in his brown eyes promises that yes, he absolutely will bite if I get too close.
But there’s nothing I hate more than backing down from one of his challenges, spoken or not. I round the loveseat and sit next to him. I lift my eyebrows at him, lobbing back his little dare. I will sit here and eat this delicious food and talk about a Highlander jaded to love, all with our thighs and arms pressed together on this too-small loveseat, possibly while sharing a blanket.
It doesn’t bother me at all.
