The Spark by Vi Keeland
CHAPTER 7
Autumn
“Is that Latin?” My eyes followed Donavan’s arm as he lifted his drink.
“It is.”
“What does it mean? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Not at all. Vincit qui se vincit. It translates to He conquers who conquers himself. Someone I’m close to used to say it all the time when I was a kid getting in trouble. It basically means if I can control myself, I can conquer anything.”
“That simplifies a lot, doesn’t it?”
Donovan smiled, flashing one of his dimples, and it set off a flutter in the pit of my belly. His smile had a sort of devilish quality lurking beneath the surface. It was confident and somehow overtly sexual. Dangerous. That’s what it was. I trained my eyes away from his face, only to have them land on his forearms. That certainly didn’t help my situation much. They were so muscular and tanned, and all of the tattoos made the entire package insanely sexy.
“You know, you look very different in jeans and a T-shirt than you do in a suit and tie.”
His eyes moved over my face. “Oh yeah? Which do you like better?”
That was a tough question, like having to decide between Godiva milk chocolate truffles or dark. Both were delicious. Though there was something dangerous to my sanity about a man who looked as good as Donovan did in a custom suit and had all those tattoos hidden underneath. But I didn’t think it was smart to share those thoughts, so I shrugged and went back to enjoying my fries.
When I looked up, I found Donovan staring at me like I had two heads. “What?” I wiped my chin and looked down at my shirt. “Did I drip or something?”
His face was an odd mix of amused and grossed out. “Did you just dunk your French fry into your chocolate shake and eat it?”
“Oh.” I chuckled. “I guess I did.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“Have you ever tried it?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know it’s disgusting? You might love it.”
Donovan smirked as he sipped his chocolate shake. “Never ate dog shit, either. Pretty sure there are some things you don’t need to try in order to know they’re not going to taste good.”
“Whatever.” I shrugged. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
Donovan and I had gone to a twenty-four-hour diner for coffee, not too far from Park House. But I was sort of hungry since I hadn’t had dinner, so I decided to get a shake and fries, while he’d opted for just a shake. Coming here with him was probably a dumb thing to do, but how could I say no after he’d spent hours combing the streets to find Storm with me? At least that’s why I told myself I’d agreed to come. It had nothing whatsoever to do with how beautiful the man sitting across from me was, or how strongly the magnetic pull toward him gripped me.
“Did you know that French fries are one of the most expensive foods in Venezuela?” I wagged a fry at him. “McDonald’s even took them off their menu there for a while.”
“I didn’t know that. Did you go to Venezuela recently?”
I shook my head. “I read it when I was looking something up once.”
He smirked. “Let me guess—someone mentioned that potatoes were the starchiest food, and that sent you down the Google rabbit hole. I’ve missed your deep dives and random trivia.”
I stuck my tongue out because, well, he was right. I had found that on one of my tumbles down the research rabbit hole, so I had no comeback.
Donovan’s eyes dropped to my mouth. “You shouldn’t stick that thing out, unless you’re planning on using it.” He winked.
I laughed. But I also sucked down enough of my shake to give me a brain freeze, because I needed to cool off. Stirring what was left in my glass with the straw, I said, “So…I hope I didn’t interrupt anything when I called this evening. It is a Saturday night and all.”
He smiled. God, he really needs to stop doing that.
“Are you asking me if I was out on a date?”
“No,” I said defensively. “I was just saying I hope I didn’t interrupt anything good.”
“You did.”
I frowned, feeling an unexpected pang of jealousy. “Oh. Sorry.”
Donovan leaned in, his smirky smile widening. “I had a hot date with Bruce Willis planned. How about you? Any plans spoiled for this evening?”
I shook my head. “Just a night of catching up with The Bachelor.”
Donovan’s nose scrunched up. “You like that show?”
“I’m addicted to it—so much so that I can’t handle the stress of watching it once a week and waiting to find out what happened. I record them and don’t start until I can spend an entire evening bingeing the episodes. My friend Skye and I watch it together.”
He chuckled. “I find it amusing when women talk about the people on that show like they’re real.”
“What do you mean like they’re real. They are real.”
“You don’t think shows like that are scripted?”
“Don’t say that!”
He laughed. “Did I just tell eight-year-old Autumn there’s no Santa Claus?”
“Well, even if it is scripted, it’s better than—which aging action hero did you say you were going to watch? Bruce Willis or Tom Cruise?”
“Bruce.”
“Those movies are faker than The Bachelor. Most of the actors don’t even do their own stunts.”
Donovan’s eyes flickered down to my lips a moment. It was less than a second—I could’ve blinked and missed it—yet that fraction of a second set off a frenzy of butterflies in my belly. This. This was the reason I’d done something I’d never done before and spent an entire weekend with a man I barely knew. We just had to look at each other, and sparks flew.
I felt the need to change the subject, but really, what was safer than talking about action movies?
“Anyway…” I said. “I’m glad I didn’t interrupt any big plans you had for tonight.”
He nodded, and then silence fell while he watched me. I got the distinct feeling he was debating saying something, and when he finally spoke, I realized I was right.
“So…the Dickster. How long has that been going on?”
I stirred my shake again to avoid eye contact. “Not too long. A month or so.”
He nodded. “I guess things changed over the last year, then?”
My eyebrows dipped together. “What do you mean?”
“After our luggage exchange, you disappeared because you only wanted what we’d had—a weekend, not a relationship. And now you’re in one.”
“I’m not in a serious relationship with Blake. We’re just dating.”
“Yet you gave him your phone number and let him see you more than once…”
“It’s different.”
“How?”
“Well, Blake and I only really see each other once a week, if that. We keep things simple. He’s divorced with kids and not looking for anything complicated.”
“I would’ve kept things simple, if that’s what you wanted.”
“Really? Because I wouldn’t have been able to.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.” I shook my head. “But the time we spent together didn’t feel like something simple to me. Did it for you?”
He studied me. “No, but that doesn’t mean I would have pushed you for more than you were ready to give. I work eighty to ninety hours a week most weeks, anyway.”
I sighed. “I just prefer to keep things uncomplicated.”
“So things with Dickson…they’re uncomplicated?”
“Yes.”
“And that means…”
“I don’t know. I guess it means I don’t have to worry about either of our feelings becoming too much.”
Donovan scratched his chin. “Let me see if I understand this. You liked me, and you had a good time that weekend we spent together. But you thought one or both of us might develop feelings. You have no worry about that with Dickson, so you keep seeing him.”
“Well…yes.”
“So you only date men you don’t really like?”
“I, uhh…no… I mean…well.” I shook my head. “Stop lawyering me. You’re making me confused at what I’m even saying.”
Donovan smiled and shook his head. “It really sucks to be on this side.”
“What side?”
“The it’s-not-you-it’s-me bullshit. I’m usually the one deflecting like you are right now.”
“I’m not deflecting. I’m trying to be honest with you.”
Again, his eyes dropped to my lips. Only this time, they lingered much longer. When they finally lifted to look at my face, it felt like he could see right through me. “So the two of you aren’t exclusive, then?”
“It’s exclusive for me.”
He squinted. “And it’s not for him?”
I shrugged. “Maybe it is. I’m not sure. We’ve never discussed it. But I prefer to only…you know…with one person at a time.”
Donovan’s jaw flexed, and his tanned skin seemed to grow a shade darker. He gave a curt nod. “Understood.”
A few minutes later, the waitress came to check on us. When I said I didn’t want anything else, Donovan asked for the check. It was late, but I got the feeling his sudden desire to call it a night had nothing to do with the time.
After we argued over the bill and Donovan paid, we headed to my car. The ride back to the police station was quiet, yet the air felt filled with unspoken words. I pulled into the spot next to his car and put the car in park.
“Well, thanks again for tonight. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for Storm.”
“Not a problem.”
Donovan opened the car door and turned back to face me once he was out. The parking lot lights cast a soft, yellowish glow on his handsome face. He looked at me for a moment and then slowly—as if giving me time to stop him—reached out and cupped my cheek, stroking my skin with his thumb. My heart ricocheted in my chest.
“Why does it feel so damn wrong to get out of this car without kissing you goodnight?” His eyes once again fell to my lips, and I couldn’t control how fast my chest started to rise and fall.
“I…I don’t know.”
He leaned in slowly. At first I thought he was actually going to do it, but at the last moment he veered, and his lips went to my ear instead. “Would you stop me if I did?”
In that moment, I absolutely would not have. Worse, part of me wanted him to do it. Really badly. I’d held my breath, waiting for it even.
But when I said nothing, Donovan pulled back and searched my eyes. He caressed my cheek one last time before he moved away.
“What’s between us might not be simple, but it’s also not over. Get home safe, Red.”
