the way Farrah’s eyes roved the room, examining every detail, it didn’t matter. They both knew what they were here for, and it wasn’t the lamb.
“You really love it.”
Her gaze snapped to his. “What?”
“Design. You haven’t stopped staring at the architecture since we arrived.”
“Sorry. I’m being a bad dinner companion.” Farrah bit her lip. “This design contest is taking over my life.”
“It’s nothing to apologize for.” In fact, her passion fascinated him. What was it like to wake up every day feeling that excited about something? Pretty nice, he’d bet. “How did you get so interested in interior design?”
“You could say it’s been a lifelong dream.” Farrah smiled. “Sounds cheesy but when I was seven, my parents redecorated the house, and I tagged along with them to the furniture and paint stores. Most kids my age would’ve found it boring. I loved it. Turns out I had a knack for matching colors and arranging furniture. My dad even brought me to his office—” A shadow crossed her face. Farrah cleared her throat and sipped her water. “Anyway, the rest is history.”
“A seven-year-old prodigy,” Blake teased. He stabbed a piece of meat with his fork. “Do you think you like design so much because you’re good at it, or you’re good at it because you like it?”
“I never thought about it.” Farrah traced the rim of her glass with her finger. “Both, I guess. I’m good at it and I like it. I love taking a space and helping it fulfill its potential. Like this restaurant is just a room, right? But with the right furniture and colors, it’s a formal dinner spot. Change things up, and it can be a cozy library or a modern minimalist gallery. It can be anything. My job is to mold a space into something that’s perfect for the owner—something that’ll transform it from just a room into an experience, or a home. We spend most of our lives indoors. How incredible is it to shape something that’s such a huge part of people’s lives?”
Blake was so swept up in Farrah’s enthusiasm he could picture everything she was saying—the library, the gallery, the gasps of delight when the owners saw their redecorated homes for the first time.
“I’m rambling.”
“No. I love hearing you talk about it. It’s…captivating.” The word slipped out without thought. Part of Blake wanted to take it back, but it was the perfect word to describe how he felt seeing the sparkle in Farrah’s eyes and hearing the animation in her voice.
Farrah blushed.
Blake’s stomach did a slow roll. He thought he’d gotten over the silly things his body did when he was around her. After all, he’d had enough sex the past three days to get any girl out of his system.
Guess not.
Farrah grabbed water. “Isn’t that how you feel about football?”
The warmth dissipated. Blake leaned back and fiddled with his own glass. “If that were true, I’d still be on the team.”
“You were so good. Or so I heard.” Farrah shrugged. “I don’t follow football.”
A smile touched his lips. “Thank god. I’m the opposite of you—good at what I did, didn’t particularly like it. Not enough to do it for the next ten, twenty years of my life.”
“That’s why you quit?”
Blake swallowed. “It’s part of it.”
Fortunately, Farrah didn’t press him on the issue. Unfortunately, she asked him a harder question. “If not football, then what do you want to do?”
Blake remembered his excitement at The End Zone. He’d thought he could do it—start his own business. After sleeping on it, it seemed ridiculous. Sure, he’d already designed the menu in his mind, and he had a million ideas for marketing and how he wanted the place to look, but dreams don’t require capital. Businesses do.
The only capital he had was a couple thousand bucks in savings. A liquor license alone cost more than that.
Blake forced himself to smile bigger. “I’ll figure it out.”
Chapter Eleven
“He can’t do this to me.” Kris snatched a dress off the rack and tossed it on the growing pile of clothes draped over her arm without glancing at the price tag. “I won’t let him.”
“Be careful!” Olivia winced. “That dress is like a thousand bucks.”
“Good. I’ll get one in every color.” Kris added the red, gold, and blue versions before moving on to the skirt section.
Farrah trailed after her, trying to ignore the fact that the total value of the items in Kris’s arms equaled that of a small country’s GDP.
“She always does this when she’s upset,” Courtney