Page 22 of Purple Scales & Coffee Tales

“Oh my God, that’s amazing!” I groaned, fully aware that I sounded pretty much how I did when I came.

A low growl grumbled in his chest as he watched me chew.

“Sorry,” I muttered, trying to shut up.

“No! Goddess, don’t apologise. I want to go back and buy all the cupcakes for you.”

He caught himself just in time, brushing the kiss that had been brewing between us all afternoon aside yet again.

Damn, Scales. Don’t edge me like that.

I didn’t press the matter though. It would either happen or not, and I wasn’t exactly sure what I wanted yet anyway.

“Now all we need is a new name for the cafe, sweetling,” Taran picked up the conversation a few moments later.

I didn’t challenge him on the nickname. I had three for him, and besides…

Sweetling… That’s fucking cute.

“Finding a suitable name is probably the most difficult job,” he mused.

I hummed noncommittally. To me, naming something was the easiest task about a project. I had a full list of potential names for the cafe, with my favourite highlighted, in my pocket.

“You don’t think so?”

Ugh, I always forgot how perceptive Taran was. “No, I like naming things. It’s so much fun to come up with possibilities until you find that perfect name.” I sighed dreamily.

With a low chuckle, he took a sip from his flat white. “What about the cafe, then? Do you have a name in mind?”

I tried to hold back, I really did. But had suppressing my hyperfixations ever worked for me?

“Well, yeah, I do. Actually”—I pulled out my notebook—“I have a list with suggestions in here.” Placing the opened book on the table, I pushed it closer to him. Then I saw it through his eyes: an extensive list of words and combinations, some crossed out, some with exclamation marks, and one circled about twenty times.

“Scales & Steam,” he read the encircled name carefully, as if he wanted to see how it felt on his tongue.How is this so hot?

“Scales & Steam,” Taran repeated a little louder, a slow smirk rippling over his scaly face. “Goddess, I love that, Maeve. Scales & Steam,” he repeated for a third time, now positively grinning at me.

“I thought it fit. ‘Scales’ for yours.” I briefly traced the ones on the back of his hand with my fingertips and was fascinated by the way his muscles flexed under my touch. “But also, coffee scales, and steam… Well, it kind of fits, I think.”

“It does!” He looked at least as giddy as I felt. “I really love it. It rolls off the tongue nicely, and it definitely fits. You call me Scales, too,” he added sheepishly, his tail thudding against his chair the way it sometimes did.

“I do,” I giggled. “I’m quite proud of it, to be honest.”

Taran raised his coffee cup, inviting me to touch mine to it. “And rightfully so. To Scales & Steam,” he said solemnly. “And to you.” His warm gaze enveloped me like a fluffy blanket on a winter’s day.

“So you’re just accepting it? You’re not even challenging me?” I asked without picking up my coffee.

Taran carefully replaced his on the saucer, then turned his whole body around to look at me.

He contemplated me for a moment before cupping my cheek in a large palm. His thumb hitched under my chin and gently lifted my face.

“Do you want me to challenge you, boss? I can put on a little show for you if you want.”

I exhaled a deep shuddering breath, not knowing what to say but hoping to God that he wouldn’t kiss me just yet.

Let’s not have our first kiss in a coffee shop at an arcade.

With a low hum, he pecked me on the nose. “We both know that we would circle back to Scales & Steam over and over again until we came to the conclusion that it was, after all, the perfect name.”

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