Starry-Eyed Love (Spark House)

Dammit. Why the hell did I get involved? I couldn’t help myself. It was as if my mind acted on its own accord, and my mouth just said things without allowing my brain to think them through.

And now she’s asked me something and I’ve been so busy living up in my head that I’ve missed it completely. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

“What kind of trailer?”

“Are you familiar with trailers?” She doesn’t give off a high-maintenance vibe, but she’s polished, so I would be surprised if she knows much about RVs.

She gives me a sly look and props her delicate chin on her equally delicate hand. “Are you dodging the question?”

I fight a grin. “Why would you think that?”

She leans back in her chair, relaxing a little, and I get a glimpse of the woman I saw at the bar all those months ago. That’s who I want to get to know. The woman who smirks at me. “Come on, Jackson.” She lines up the pen so it’s perfectly parallel with her phone. “I can’t imagine you’re used to roughing it in an old school pop-up from the seventies. I’m sure it’s all tricked out. Energy efficient. Requiring little to no propane or electricity to function.”

“What if it was an old pop-up trailer from the seventies?”

“I’d want some photographic evidence.”

This time, I can’t hold back the laugh. “It’s actually an old Airstream trailer. From the seventies. I had it gutted and made some modifications, so it is, in fact, energy efficient. It’s probably not quite as flashy as one might expect from me, but I’m the only one who ever uses it, so it just needs to be functional.”

“I bet it’s very peaceful.”

“Incredibly so. Have you ever gone camping, London?”

“I used to be a Girl Scout, and my parents always sent us to camp for a week. Although, I’ll be honest, my older sister Avery is the outdoor adventurer. I liked it better when we had the little cabins instead of the tents.” She stops fiddling with the pen and clasps her hands again.

“That’s fair. I was a Boy Scout as a kid, too, and those tents were always full of daddy longlegs.”

“Always! Although they’re harmless. Despite being the most venomous spider out there.”

“But their mouths are too small to bite,” I supply.

London tips her head, smiling. “Such a random fact.”

“Mmm.” I nod my agreement.

London bites her lip. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Absolutely.”

“You honestly didn’t know about my meeting today?”

“Not until I walked by the conference room and saw you standing there.”

She nods once and looks away. “I need to tell you something.”

“Go ahead.” I’m curious as to what it is based on her expression.

“I lied when I told you I was in a relationship. When we met at the bar, I mean.” Her eyes go wide, and the pink in her cheeks deepens to red and travels to her ears.

I’m taken aback by the sudden shift in topics, unsure why she feels she needs to admit this. Also, that bit of news stings, but I force an amused smile. “You lied about having a boyfriend?”

“Yes. No. It wasn’t really a lie. Oh God.” She runs a hand down her face. “I don’t even know why I said anything. And I’m making it sound worse than it is. I’d literally just gotten out of a relationship. We’d broken up three days earlier, and it seemed easier to say I was still involved than try to explain that I wasn’t in a place emotionally to handle going on a date. And I honestly had no idea when I’d be in a place to date again. I had a lot of self-doubt. It’s kind of my thing.”

Her expression is priceless, and while I could let her off the hook, I enjoy seeing this much less composed version of her. So different than the woman I met at the bar and the one who put me in my place in the conference room. “Lying about being in a relationship is your thing?”

“No. That’s really the only time I’ve done that. Lied about my relationship status. The breakup was just so fresh. And honestly, I was a bit shocked.”

“Shocked by what?”

“That you approached me in a bar. Especially since I was with my sisters. In a world of right swipes and dating apps, that took some serious courage. I felt awful about lying. But going on a date with you was the last thing I should have been considering. It wouldn’t have been fair to either of us.”

“That makes perfect sense to me. I appreciate your candor.” I mean it. Most women would have just taken the number and never called.

Her gaze dips down and back up again. “I’m still sorry I lied. I feel like I’ve just gone to confession.”

“It’s fine, London. I appreciate you being honest with me, even if it is several months after the fact.” I absolve her of any further awkwardness by shifting the topic away from her personal life. “Can I offer you something to drink? Would you like tea or coffee? Or water? We have sparkling and still. Whatever you’d prefer. I’ll have my assistant place an order, and you can tell me about Spark House events so I can get a better idea of what might work for my team.”