When Sparks Fly

“I couldn’t make it to the gym this morning, so I thought I’d get in a quick workout before you came home. Earn the takeout I’m about to destroy. Ten more and then I’m ready for that beer.” His blue eyes glint with humor.

I flip him the bird. “If anyone should be asking for wait service, it’s me.”

I pass through the living room and make a right down the hall to my bedroom.

“Where are you going?” he calls after me.

“I need to change into something more comfortable.”

“You’re wearing yoga pants and a T-shirt. How much more comfortable can you get?”

“Let me rephrase. I need to change into something clean.” I return two minutes later wearing oversized gray jogging pants with holes in them and a loose, baggy shirt.

Declan has finished his workout and is wearing a shirt that probably fit him a lot better in college than it does now. I’m guessing laundry day is coming up. There’s a discarded towel on the floor, likely used to mop up his sweat trail.

Declan, being the sometimes-thoughtful roommate he is, has done me a solid and poured me a beer. I drop down on the other end of the couch with a groan, and he passes me the full pint glass.

“I need this more than air right now, so thank you.”

He cocks a brow and turns his attention back to the soccer game. “Should I even ask how your day was?”

I grab my phone and pull up my group messages with my sisters and click on the video Harley sent about an hour ago, while I was getting my nails done and the hair ripped out of my sensitive bits. I toss it to Declan and he presses play. “What the hell am I looking at right now?”

“A hobbyhorse fight.”

He cringes at the loud thwack, rewinds the video, and bursts into laughter. “Are they jousting with stuffed horses?”

“Yup.”

“Jeez, who won?”

I chuckle. “No one, because I took care of the situation.”

“Huh, I can’t decide if that’s disappointing or not.” He plays the video over again, much like I did while I was getting my nails done. “Is this a normal thing? Like, I can’t imagine that hobbyhorse riding is actually popular.”

“You would be surprised at the number of people involved in the sport.”

“Seriously? How have I never heard of this? And how many times have you held a hobbyhorse … fence jumping event?”

“This would be a first for Spark House. And possibly a last, depending on whether there’s more jousting between now and Sunday.”

He passes my phone back, and I set it on the side table.

“Looks like a lot of people are into it, though, so maybe it’ll be worth the headache. Is it a lucrative sport? Do people bet on it like they do actual horse races and competitions?” His eyes light up.

“I have no idea, but I’m going to say probably not, so whatever scheming is happening up there, you can shut it down right now.” I reach over and tap his temple.

Declan works in finance. In fact, he handles the financial portfolio for Spark House and works with London to ensure we’re meeting all our financial goals. He’s excellent at what he does, and there’s no one I trust more than him to keep our finances safe. Any time I need to discuss additions, renovations, or potential expansions I can go to him and talk it through. I try not to hound him about things like that on the weekend, but he loves talking about money and investments.

“It was just a question. I know you’ve been talking about fixing that fountain in honor of your grandmother this spring, and it’s not going to be cheap, or really a value add.”

“We’ll only do it if we can afford it, but it would be a really cool surprise if we could fix it before she’s back from Italy.” At eighty-one, Gran is still spry and incredibly active. She ran Spark House with my grandfather, and then after he passed, with the help of my parents. When we lost them in the car accident, Gran took over full-time again. At least until my sisters and I were ready for the responsibility. I’ve always loved Spark House and knew I wanted to take it over one day. And now that’s exactly what we’re doing.

Declan flips his pen between his fingers. “If hobbyhorse riding is half as lucrative as actual horse racing, the jousting matches might be worth it. Actually, they might be even better than the riding.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not condoning adult men beating one another with stuffed horses. I’ll make sure we have the capital to fix up the fountain before I start throwing money at it.”

He reaches across the back of the couch and gives my neck a squeeze. “London still on the fence about it?”