Indigo (For The Love of Purple #1) - Audrey Faye Page 0,8

made her happy.”

I don’t think I’ve sold any art to royals lately. My agent tries to keep me apprised of that kind of stuff. I eye the drawing that I didn’t sign. “Most people wouldn’t recognize my work from a quick sketch.”

Blue snorts. “Violet would recognize a chair that you sat in for three minutes. Once she’s got a read on you, she’s better than a blood hound.”

I blink. Most of the folks I know who can do that are dead, invisible, and really annoying.

Footsteps behind me. Not ghostly ones. Two sets of eyes lift.

I take in a breath that doesn’t feel at all useful, and turn. I manage a polite smile for Jeannie before I start staring.

Mild curiosity flickers in Indigo’s eyes as she meets my gaze. “Hi. Want some tea? We brought extras. I think there are a couple of sandwiches in the bag along with the pastries, too. Or you’re welcome to a pastry.”

It takes me a moment to realize that she’s trying to feed the homeless artist who just washed up on her doorstep. Amusement flares in my ribs. If she thinks I look disreputable now, she should have seen me yesterday.

Delight wafts off of Violet like that gorgeous smell right after it rains.

I keep my eyes on the woman whose fire probably does just fine in a good rainstorm. “I had breakfast, thanks. But I’d take some tea.”

Jeannie leans forward and kisses my cheek as she offers me one of the go cups in her hands. “Here, this one’s got less sugar than my usual. If we sweeten you up too fast, something dire might happen to those interesting cracks of yours.”

Violet’s gaze intensifies.

I sigh. All I need today is the psychics of the world ganging up on me. I raise an eyebrow at Indigo, who’s also studying me more carefully, but she clearly doesn’t have the same radar as her spring-water friend. Or the same sense that the world just irrevocably shifted that’s running amok inside of me.

Which just figures.

I cast around for small talk, at which I thoroughly suck. After a few seconds of helpless mental flailing, I go for interesting, instead. “Are you thinking of taking over Jeannie’s shop?”

Surprise lights in Indigo’s eyes. Appreciation.

Huh. Not the usual reaction I get to my directness.

She nods. “Yes. I think so.” She half-shrugs in Jeannie’s direction. “We’ve still got a lot of details to discuss.”

The older woman, who’s largely to blame for my lack of success at turning into a complete recluse this winter, chuckles. “I believe we can all see the broad strokes, dear, and those are what matter. Don’t you think, Drew?”

Some of the annoying matchmakers in my life aren’t ghosts. “I try to avoid being a critic of anyone else’s painting techniques.”

Blue’s eyes narrow.

My fists curl. I know that look. Someone’s been judging her. Using it to cudgel her soul, by the looks of it. Which somehow always works best on people with sturdy, competent hearts.

A brush of air on the back of my neck.

I manage not to snarl. I’m not avoiding. Just taking my time.

A small, choked-off sound from Violet, and a soothing one from Jeannie. But it isn’t either of them I see when I lift my eyes. It’s Indigo, leaning against the outside of Shenanigans like she grew there.

Drinking tea. Banking her fire.

And smiling at my fists.

Chapter Six

“If he really loved you, sweetie, he wouldn’t want to turn you into one of those terrifying lace tablecloths.” Indigo, age 27.

INDIGO

I don’t know who he is, or why he’s here, or why my two friends are studying him like he’s about to become a major part of our lives. We’ve already upended those plenty for one day. I don’t need to look at our charts to know that this is going to have big repercussions.

I wouldn’t mind a look at his chart, though. Violet’s easy around him, and he was ready to fight for Blue just now. It’s not all that often a stranger has that much understanding of both of my friends.

I lean in so I can see the drawing that’s caught Violet’s fancy. It’s eye-catching, even upside down. A quick pencil sketch of the three of us from the back, with hints of the building we’re looking at and the sign for Shenanigans over our heads. Which makes it sound ordinary, and it absolutely isn’t. He’s captured the deep that lives inside Violet without making her look holy and the steadiness of Blue without making her look boring.

My eyes