Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
My heart does a silly flip-flop in my chest when I spot him sitting in the back corner of the coffee shop in a pair of cozy chairs. He waves me over. “I figured we had lots of time and could afford to hang out for a few minutes, if that’s okay with you.”
“That’s totally okay with me.” I drop down in the chair across from him.
“It’s salted-caramel hot chocolate.” He points to the steaming cup. Next to it is chocolate caramel biscotti. “That’s what you usually get, isn’t it?”
“It is. Thanks. What do I owe you for this?” I start to dig my wallet out of my purse, but Gavin leans over and covers my hand with his. It sends a jolt up my arm. “My treat.”
I lift my head and meet his warm gaze. “Thank you.”
“No thanks necessary.” He removes his hand and sits back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Tell me about your day.”
We chat about work. Things are progressing with the Spark House franchise slowly. One of the prospective locations turned out to have too many restrictions on the property, but the other four have been fully vetted and approved. The Mills brothers have already found an alternate location for the fifth one, and it’s a matter of time before that one is signed off on too. The delay hasn’t been the worst thing in the world, at least not for me, because it’s given me time to get used to the idea and get more comfortable with the changes.
I move away from talking about Spark House and ask Gavin about his work instead. He tells me about all the developments with the park he’s working on and how he and Ian have already been by the site to survey the bike and walking trails, and they’ve brought in landscapers to prepare the gardens for the spring.
We move on to what the rest of our week looks like and the upcoming events at Spark House, including a very out-of-the box wedding.
“Oh, before I forget, what does next week look like for you? I thought maybe I could take Peyton to this really cool graffiti class.” I sip my hot chocolate. It’s deliciously sweet with a hint of salt at the end of every sip.
“Graffiti class?” Gavin’s eyebrows pop.
“Yeah! It’s so cool! We have a client who’s getting married in the fall, and they have these amazing graffiti murals they’re bringing in. Let me show you!” I pull up the artist’s Instagram page where some of his pieces are featured and lean over so I can show it to Gavin.
“Oh wow. Is that the side of a building?” Gavin’s fingers graze mine as he shifts the phone so the light above us doesn’t obstruct his view.
“It is. They commission him to create these pieces. So amazing, right? So he’s going to bring in pieces for the wedding. He teaches classes for all levels, and they have a family class. It might be fun to take Peyton, give her exposure to another form of art since she’s so hungry to express her creative side.” I tip my chin up.
Our faces are inches apart. And his gaze drops to my mouth for a second, the air suddenly thick with new tension. Or maybe it’s been there all along and I wasn’t ready to acknowledge it until now.
“I think we’d love that.” He clears his throat and drops his hand, leaning back in his chair. “Unless you just want to take Peyton.”
“We could go together. The three of us? Maybe go out for dinner after? The class is from five to six. If she really likes it, they have courses. But I’m getting ahead of myself.” I wave a hand in the air. “I thought it would be a neat new thing to try. And the best part is that the classes are in a park, so lots of great entertainment and outdoor time.”
“Your out-of-the-box thinking is one of my favorite things about you.”
His smile sends a kaleidoscope of butterflies loose in my stomach. “Wednesday at five, then?”
“Wednesday at five.” He programs it into his phone. “We should probably head over to the school so we can catch the tail end of rehearsals.” He stands and extends a hand, helping me to my feet.
On the way out of the coffee shop, his fingertips rest against the small of my back as he opens the door and ushers me outside. Little gestures, smiles and sidelong glances individually don’t mean much, but added up, it’s starting to feel like this friendship we’ve formed is shifting, and I’m not sure what to do with that, if anything.
I don’t want to ruin this good thing we have.
I wish the butterflies in my stomach understood that.
Thirteen
IT’S NOT REALLY A DATE, YET
GAVIN
“Dad, when are we going? Aren’t we supposed to meet Harley soon?” Peyton comes bounding into my room and launches herself onto my bed, bouncing on her butt.