Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
INDIGO
The need to see Malik again is burning inside of me like an inferno that can’t be extinguished. It’s been two days since we met by chance at the bar and he left me with the lady boner of the century. Tonight that all changes.
I’m no expert on relationships—or even dating, really—but I know this: dates are part of it. There’s a winter carnival in town, and I want to go with him. Maybe it’s the flashing lights, the smell of fried dough, the thrill of those rickety rides that could break down at any moment… or maybe it’s the idea of watching Malik’s face when he looks at me, or his hand brushing mine in the cold. Whatever it is, it’s enough to send a rush of excitement through me, making my heart race with anticipation.
I grab my phone to text him.
Me: Hey boyfriend. What are you doing tonight?
Shit! Should dates be a call or is texting fine?
Who cares?
Malik: Good morning to you too, baby. No plans. Did you wanna do something?
This is so easy. I don’t get why women are always complaining about how hard it is to find a decent guy or get them to go out. I met one on the damn phone by mistake and getting him to take me on dates is easy. Just ask, right?
Me: Yeah. I was hoping you would take me to the carnival in town.
Malik: Sure. I could do that. Pick you up at 7?
Me: Yay! And Malik…
Malik: Yeah baby?
Me: Wear something that’s easily removed.
I toss my phone onto the bed beside me and fall back onto the mattress. I don’t understand why the women at the bar are always whining about dating. Do they not just ask for what they want? Or do they expect someone to read their minds, deciphering every hint and half-smile? Not my style. I want Malik, and I’ll make sure he knows it.
It’s only nine, so I have the whole day to waste before I get to see Malik. Might as well take a nap to make sure I’m well rested, and then I'll have a snack and get ready. Climbing back under the blankets, I lie down and close my eyes, ready for it to be seven—ready for my man to take me to get my fill of cotton candy and ride all the rides.
MALIK
This woman.
Indigo is unlike anyone I’ve ever met, let alone dated. She doesn’t dance around what she wants, doesn’t hint or wait for someone else to take the lead. There’s no coyness or playing hard-to-get—just blunt, fearless honesty. Hell, I’ve been racking my brain all week trying to come up with some perfect first date—not the usual dinner or movie deal, something that would stand out. And then she just pops in this morning with a simple demand: take me to the carnival.
I have not been to the winter carnival since I was a teenager, but I remember they had tons of food, little shops, and amusement rides. I wonder if Indigo is the kind of woman you win a stuffed animal for? I’ll have to ask her, or I’m sure she’ll just tell me, “ Hey, win me that bear .”
I check my phone again, rereading her last message, the one that’s burned into my mind: Wear something that’s easily removed. The words alone have me swallowing hard, heat spreading through my body as I reach down to adjust myself. Just two nights ago, kissing her in my truck, feeling her pressed close to me—that was already almost more than I could handle. And now she sends this text, taunting me, practically begging for more. Makes me want to call into work right now, drive straight to her place, and give her what she’s asking for.
I won’t, I’ll play it cool. I’ll work the full day like I planned and take her out tonight. But she’s in for it if she pushes me like she did the night we met. I’m not nearly as gentlemanly as she might think, and I’m more than ready to show her just how much she affects me.
I pull up in front of Brandon and Colleen’s house, shift into park, and take a steadying breath. This project has been a long time coming, and I’m ready to get my hands on it. Demo starts today, the first step toward turning their house into the home they’ve been envisioning. After they signed the contract and handed over the down payment, I got them lined up with our designer, and now we’re here. Ready to get to work.
The kitchen’s getting gutted first—an odd ordeal, seeing it’s already totally finished and immaculate. But Brandon’s working from home, dispatching or something, and he needs a bigger office space. So the kitchen’s pushing out into the dining room. It’s gonna be a beast of a project, but damn if it doesn’t feel good to see it coming together.
But as I walk toward the house, all I can think about is Indigo. The carnival. Her text. The way her voice might sound tonight, daring and a little breathless, as she leans close and tells me exactly what she wants. And the way I won’t be able to tell her no.
Brandon meets me at the door, wearing an eager grin, and I shake his hand firmly. “Morning, man. Ready to see some walls come down?”
He nods, grinning widely as he lets me inside. The house is still—a little too quiet for the work that’s about to tear through it, but there’s an energy in the air that feels just right. Brandon hands me the blueprints that Daisy, our designer, put together for the new layout, and I flip through them, impressed by her attention to detail as always.
“So, what do you do again?” I ask, looking up from the designs.
Brandon glances away briefly, his eyes shifting toward the kitchen where his wife Colleen’s kitten is curled up on the counter, watching us with wary green eyes. “I own my own company,” he says finally.
“Dispatch, right?”
“Yeah.” He chuckles a little, as if there’s more to the story than he’s letting on. “But it’s not exactly telling trucks where to drive. People call when they need my service, and I send crews out to handle it. It’s kinda like subcontracting, but I actually employ the crews myself.”
“Interesting.” I nod, considering that. “Always good to know people in different fields, you know?”
Brandon smirks, an almost mischievous glint in his eye. “Well, let’s just say I signed a pretty airtight non-disclosure when I joined the Chamber. I’ll say this…we do pretty specific cleanings.”
The hint of mystery in his tone piques my curiosity, but I decide not to pry. Whatever he’s got going on, it’s clearly something he’s not ready to share, and I respect that.
“Alright then, I’ll take that as a ‘don’t ask too many questions,’” I say with a grin, tucking the blueprints underneath my arm. “But hey, maybe someday you’ll tell me over a beer or two.”
He laughs, nodding as he gestures for me to follow him into the kitchen. “We’ll see.”
We move toward the section that’s set to be gutted, the fresh smell of coffee wafting from his makeshift office. This space will be transformed in a matter of weeks, and there’s something satisfying in knowing that I’ll be part of it. Yet, even as we talk shop, my mind drifts to tonight—to Indigo, to the carnival, to the promise lingering between us in her messages.
Brandon continues talking about the plans, pointing out where the walls will shift, where new storage will be added, and where the lighting’s going to change everything. But despite my excitement about this project, I really want this day to go by faster so I can feel Indigo close to me again.
I don’t know what she meant by easy to remove, but I put on a pair of black joggers and a dark green sweater, hoping I didn’t disobey my girl’s request.
As I pull into her driveway, the front door swings open, and there she is. Indigo glides down the steps with a Cheshire Cat grin that promises trouble and a thrill all wrapped in one. My heart pounds just watching her move.
She’s wrapped in a deep forest-green coat. The vintage-style silhouette pulling tight at her waist before flaring out dramatically, ending right before her knees. The plush fur trim—rich and dark—decorates her collar, cuffs, and hem, adding an old-world edge to her look. Her inky, dark hair cascades in soft waves that contrast beautifully with her bright, striking red lips. Her light eyes, piercing and intense, are locked on my truck like a predator stalking her prey.
I start to jump out, ready to greet her, but, but she stops me with a playful shake of her head, her voice teasing. “I’m no damsel, Malik. I can open my own door, but it’s good to know you’re a gentleman.”
I pause, my hand hovering over the handle, and chuckle. “Well, all right then. Noted.”
She slips into the passenger seat, leaning close—closer than she probably needs to, but I’m not complaining. The scent of her perfume fills my nose, dark and sweet, like cherries dipped in poison. Her leg brushes mine as she settles in, her gaze taking me in like she’s already imagining what she’ll do to me later.
“You look handsome, Malik,” she purrs, her voice low, dripping with that wicked edge of hers.
“Thanks, baby.” I glance over, smirking as I let my eyes roam over her. “You look sexy yourself, but isn’t it a little warm for that coat? Not that I’m complaining.”
She laughs, her red lips curving into a smirk as her fingers idly trace the fur trim on her sleeve. “Yeah, and I hate that it covers all my tattoos, but it’s a winter carnival, babe. Gotta dress the part, right?”
I chuckle, laying a hand on her thigh, feeling the soft material of her coat beneath my fingertips. Her body is warm through the fabric, a reminder of what’s waiting underneath, a promise of what I’m hoping to see later.
“Well, we should get going then, shouldn’t we?” I say, squeezing her thigh lightly, relishing the way her eyes darken, a flicker of that dangerous spark that draws me to her.
The silence during the drive is comfortable, the kind of silence you only get when two people are completely at ease with each other. Outside, the streetlights cast a soft glow through the cab, illuminating her face in flashes as we drive. I glance over, catching her staring out the window, her expression a mixture of excitement and mischief, like she’s already planning some sort of trouble for us tonight.
Her coat is open just enough to show a hint of ink peeking out from the collar, teasing me with flashes of the tattoos I know cover her skin. I smile, shaking my head as I let my gaze linger. She catches me looking and raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Eyes on the road, babe,” she teases, though I can see the hint of a blush coloring her cheeks.
"Hard to keep my eyes off you, you know that." I grin, tapping my fingers on the wheel, feeling the thrill of just having her here beside me.
By the time we reach the carnival, the night feels charged with unspoken promises, the tension between us growing with every look and touch.
Lights flash in a riot of colors, casting a warm, golden glow on the crowd. The air is thick with the mingling scents of popcorn, fried dough, and caramel—sugar and grease all wrapped up in nostalgia. It feels like stepping into another world, a place where rules don’t apply, where Indigo and I can just be.
As we weave through the carnival crowd, I spot a ticket booth with a long roll of bright red tickets hanging from the side.
I hand over a bill to the guy, and he gives me a massive roll of tickets in return. Indigo snatches them up, clutching the roll against her chest with a gleeful grin. “Look at all these!” She laughs, unspooling a few and waving them in front of my face. “Enough for every ride here, and then some.”
I chuckle, shaking my head as she tucks the roll into her coat pocket, a few tickets still peeking out. “Just let me know if I need to win you anything, alright?”
Her eyes gleam, and she tilts her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You better be ready for it, because I have a thing for ridiculous prizes and carnival games,” she teases, her fingers trailing over the roll of tickets as if it’s a precious treasure.
"Challenge accepted,” I say.
With the tickets in her pocket and a glint of mischief in her eyes, we head off, our adventure only just beginning.
Indigo’s eyes are wide, her mouth parting as she takes in the sights, looking like a kid in a candy shop. She bounces on her toes, clutching my arm, and then she spots it—a stand shaped like a massive caramel apple on a stick.
“Oh! I want a caramel apple!” she squeals, gripping my hand tightly as she eagerly leads me toward the stand.
I follow behind, unable to look away as her hips sway side to side in that over-the-top coat. She’s pure, unfiltered joy wrapped in dark fur and vintage green, and damn if that isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
“One caramel apple, no nuts,” she tells the cashier, flashing that bright, mischievous smile that makes her eyes shine.
The cashier rings up the caramel apple and says, "Eight dollars."
I beat Indigo to it, pulling out a ten and handing it over before she can reach for her own cash. “Keep the change,” I say, but I’m barely aware of the cashier’s response because all I can see is Indigo, standing there with her eyes fixed on that caramel apple like it’s the most precious thing in the world.
She takes a big bite, the caramel sticking to her lips as she chews and hums in delight. My hand finds hers, our fingers lacing together as we start to walk, but my gaze keeps slipping back to her, caught by the sight of her lips glistening with caramel, her eyes closed as she savors each bite.
She catches me watching and raises an eyebrow, smirking around her mouthful of apple. “Like what you see, Malik?” She leans closer, lowering her voice to a husky whisper that sends a shiver down my spine. “I’d like to wrap my tongue around something else later.”
I nearly choke, caught off guard, and laugh, shaking my head. “You really don’t hold back, do you, baby?”
She shrugs, all casual confidence. “What’s the point? We only get this one life, right? So why not say what I want to say, do what I want to do… and fuck who I want to fuck?” Her words ring out loud and unapologetic, and suddenly, I realize we’ve drawn some unwanted attention.
A mother nearby gasps, clapping her hands over her teenage son’s ears as she glares at Indigo. “Language!” she hisses, looking absolutely scandalized.
I raise my eyebrows, feeling my cheeks heat up, but Indigo just laughs, utterly unbothered. “Oh, please,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. She glances at the boy, then smirks at the mother. “Little Johnny there is probably balls-deep in some freshman slut inside the janitor’s closet, at least once a week.”
The boy’s face turns crimson, his lips disappearing as he clamps his mouth shut, and the mother’s eyes widen in horror. She pulls her son away, muttering angrily under her breath, and Indigo just watches them go, chuckling to herself.
“Was that really necessary?” I ask, trying to sound stern, but a grin slips through.
“Completely necessary,” she replies with a shrug, tossing her apple core into a trash bin with a practiced flick of her wrist. She turns to me, that devilish glint in her eyes. “Come on, I want to ride the Ferris wheel.” She grabs my hand, practically dragging me toward the giant spinning wheel glowing against the night sky.
We hand over our tickets and climb into the cart, which rocks gently as it lifts us off the ground. As we rise higher, the carnival below grows smaller, the sounds fading into a muffled hum. It feels like we’re floating, suspended in our own little bubble, surrounded by the glittering lights of the Ferris wheel.
Indigo leans into me, her hand resting on my thigh, fingers tracing little circles that send warmth flooding through me. My breath catches as her hand moves higher, her eyes locked on mine with a smoldering intensity that makes my heart race. She leans in closer, and before I can say anything, her lips meet mine in a kiss that’s soft at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. But the moment I respond, it deepens, our mouths moving together in perfect sync.
“Having fun, Malik?” she murmurs against my lips, her voice low and teasing as her hand presses against me, stroking through the fabric of my joggers. The heat of her touch seeps into me, and a soft groan escapes as I kiss her harder.
“Baby, you’re going to kill me,” I whisper, my voice rough with desire, but I don’t stop her. I don’t want to stop her.
Her fingers keep moving, slow and deliberate, teasing and taunting as the Ferris wheel turns, taking us higher. My pulse races, and for a moment, it feels like we’re the only two people in the world, suspended in this perfect, private moment. But all too soon, the ride circles back down, and we’re jolted back to reality as the Ferris wheel operator opens our cart, giving us a knowing smile.
I adjust my sweater, trying to regain some semblance of composure, but Indigo just smirks, thoroughly pleased with herself.
As we step off, her eyes light up again when she spots a rollercoaster nearby. She pulls me toward it, her excitement spilling over, but as we settle into the seats, the operator struggles with the shoulder harness, pushing down, grunting with effort, but it won’t budge.
He steps back, looking apologetic. “Sorry, sir,” he says. “You’re too big for this ride. We’ll have to escort you off. Your lady friend can stay if she wants.”
I feel a twinge of embarrassment, my ego bruising a little, but Indigo doesn’t hesitate. She shoots the guy a fierce glare, squeezing my hand. “The hell I will,” she snaps, standing up with me. Her loyalty stirs something deep in my chest, a sense of pride and maybe even a little awe.
We’re escorted off the platform, stepping through a small side door back into the buzzing carnival. I let out a sigh, trying to shake off the sting of disappointment, but Indigo catches my hand, pulling me close.
“Guess that ride couldn’t handle a real man,” she says, her tone playful, but her eyes warm. There’s no pity, no awkwardness—just Indigo, looking at me like I’m the only thing that matters.
I chuckle, my chest loosening as I pull her in, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “I guess that means we’re sticking to the Ferris wheel from now on.”
She laughs, slipping her arm around my waist as we wander back into the heart of the carnival. I glance down at her, watching the way she’s so effortlessly herself, so unapologetically bold, and it hits me all over again just how much this woman means to me.