Page 229 of The Storm

He sends me a curious look and goes inside.

I know what he’s seeing. Just tired, bare walls, a row of dirty windows, and a chipped, concrete floor in a decidedly limited space.

Blue makes a slow circle, eyes moving over the space before us before he turns to face me.

“It’s nice,” he says, “but what is this place, exactly?”

I take another sweep of the room and then pull Blue to me. I wrap my arms around him from behind and lean my chin on his shoulder.

“Well,” I say. “I was thinking that this space here might make for a good restaurant.”

He turns his head and smiles at me. “Yeah?”

I nod and press a kiss against the side of his neck. “I gave up on that dream a while back. Bit by bit, it seemed to lose all its spark, and I just didn’t care anymore.”

“But now you want it?” Blue asks with a kind of gentle knowing in his tone.

“I want it so fucking bad,” I say and press another kiss on his neck. He groans and shivers and laughs about his own reaction.

“It’s a good space,” he says. “Kitchen at the end, there?” He nods toward the other side of the room.

I nod. “Open concept.”

“So you can see the magic happen,” he says. “How many guests?”

“Twenty-four at most. Two tables of two. One large table that’d host between eight and twelve diners and another for groups between four and eight.”

“Food?” he continues and presses his body closer, so we’re plastered together.

“Seasonal chef’s menu, local produce.”

He turns in my arms and sends me a beaming smile. “I like the sound of all of that.”

I hum. “I’d still be working for Callum and the other guys for a while. This place might bomb spectacularly and opening a restaurant is always a terrible idea.”

“Let’s do it anyway,” he says and presses a fierce kiss on my mouth.

“I already have a name,” I say.

“Oh, yeah?” He raises his brows.

“Indigo,” I say.

His smile turns from glowing to impossibly soft as he looks at me, and his throat moves as he swallows hard.

“It’s a good name,” he says.

“I know,” I say. “All my favorite things in the world are named Indigo.”

He blows out a shaky breath. “Christ, you’re sappy.”

I grin. “Want me to stop?”

“No. You should definitely kiss me, though.”

So I do.

We’re reallylate by the time we arrive to meet up with the others. The pub is busy, with most of the booths occupied and people milling around, drinks in hand, or playing darts at the two boards hung on the far wall of the pub.