Page 57 of Indigo

I nod, trying to suppress my laughter as she turns her attention to the man beside me.

“I see you’ve sorted that attitude out, Paxton,” she teases. “Ready to bake?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He winks at her, still refusing to stand up straight.

God, I’m going to have to buy a vibrator or something if this is going to become a common occurrence.

-19-

PAXTON

INDIE BASICALLY GLOWSfrom beside me as we walk hand in hand down the main street. The way her eyes light up when she sees a child run on the grass, or an elderly couple walking hand in hand like we are, makes my heart fucking swell in my chest.

She’s so goddamn beautiful.

“Coffee?” she asks, looking up at me with those breathtaking eyes, hiking the canvas tote bag filled with locally grown fruits and vegetables from the farmers’ market higher on her shoulder.

Stubborn woman refused to let me take it from her. Said she was perfectly capable of holding it herself. Didn’t seem to object to me carrying the other four, though.

I smile down at her, release her hand, and sling my arm over her shoulders, pulling her tightly to my side. “Sounds good.”

Honestly, I’d follow the woman into a fucking volcano if she asked me to as this point, even though she basically blackmailed me into going with her to the market by saying that if I didn’t come with her, she’d have to carry everything herself. I knew damn well she’d overdo it just to prove a point, and apparently taking her car wasn’t an option, so here I am. Each bag in my right hand is filled to the brim with candles, essential oils, crystals, incense, you name it.

She just about lost her damn mind when she saw the new stall set up, and I’m near positive she’s got no room left in her house for all of this shit, but hey, if it makes her happy, I’m all for it.

What I don’t enjoy is that every so often, someone will see us and cross the street to avoid us. Either that, or they’ll step further than necessary around us when passing, or whisper to each other while shooting dirty looks my way. I’m not one to give a shit about other people's opinions, but when you’ve spent your entire life dealing with the same thing, it gets a little old.

Thankfully, I don’t think Indie has noticed. If she has, she hasn’t let on. She simply walks beside me, her head held high like she’s proud to be holding my hand.

My body relaxes when we approach the front entrance to the diner, and as we reach our usual two seater table, right by the window so my girl can people watch as she eats, I pull out her chair and wait for her to get comfortable.

“Such a gentleman,” she teases, kissing my cheek softly before taking her seat.

“Only for you, Blue,” I reply, moving to my side and sitting opposite her.

Other than our weekly meal at Mrs Neil, we don’t go out to eat often. Indie’s always been a homebody, and I’m the same, so generally we order in, or I’ll cook, and we’ll end up on the couch watching Gilmore Girls for the hundredth time. You’d think she’d be sick of the show by now, I sure as fuck am, but no, when she gets the last episode, instead of trying something new, she’ll just start the whole damn series over again. Says it’s her comfort show, so I keep quiet.

No point telling her she’s crazy, she fucking knows it, and I love it.

Love her.

Without even having to place our orders, two cups of coffee and a pile of freshly made donuts are placed in front of us, steam still visibly rising from the plate. Mrs Neil simply winks at me in greeting and heads back to the front counter, a line of impatient customers waiting for her to return.

As usual, Indie fishes her phone out of her pocket and places it screen up on the table. She never texts or touches it while we’re eating, but she’s made it clear that she never wants to miss an important call or message from either Paisley or Lana, and I respect that.

“Thank you for coming this morning,” she says, smiling from ear to ear, and grabbing her first donut.

For a moment, I simply stare at her as she takes a bite. The light pink singlet she’s wearing makes her skin look more bronze than it actually is, and although her hair is pulled back into a claw clip, several stray curls have fallen free around her face.

“Did I have a choice?” I ask after clearing my throat.

“Yes. And you made the right one.”

I chuckle into my coffee as I raise it to my mouth.

“So, any news on Jagger’s moving plans?”

That sick feeling I get in my stomach every time we talk about my brothers leaving rears its ugly head, and I have to force myself to swallow down my drink. “No. He hasn’t said anything. Matt and him spend every waking moment together though.”

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