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“What?” Colt’s dark brow furrows as he takes the seat across from me, stretching his long legs out to the side.
“Nothing.” I drop my gaze to the plate, tucking into the spaghetti to avoid his gaze—and the unbidden tingly feeling creeping over my skin.
Maybe he’s right and there really is a ghost here. That would explain the odd sensations I’m experiencing at the moment. A much more plausible explanation than liking Colt Wild.
“So what’s on the agenda for tomorrow, boss?” Colt shovels a big bite of pasta into his mouth, chewing.
“I thought we’d finish up the demo tomorrow and the next day. I need to measure the space and order the flooring.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Tile, maybe? The big patterned ones that form a design when you put them together.”
“Fancy.”
“I want to give the space character, you know?”
“To match the proprietor.” Colt locks his eyes on mine and a million butterflies zoom around my stomach.
I clear my throat, ignoring the compliment. “What do you recommend we do with the lighting? The fluorescent lights have got to go.”
Colt nods in agreement. “Yeah, for sure. We can get a recommendation for an electrician because lighting’s out of my wheelhouse. I think you can do a few big pendant lights, if you want to go with the industrial look. Or you could find a nice chandelier—that could be cool too.”
“Oh, I like that idea. Maybe a large chandelier in the center and then a few smaller, matching ones on either side. Very vintage.”
“Right. And you already have the wood beams on the ceiling. We could stain them a darker color, make them really pop.”
“Yes. Great idea. You’re pretty good at this.”
Colt’s lips tip up in a shy smile, the first time I’ve ever seen him be anything but cocky.
“Thanks. I probably picked up a few ideas on all the movie sets or something. Plus, I like design shows. But if you tell anyone that, I will deny it to my grave.”
I laugh. “Your secret’s safe with me. I won’t spread your love of HGTV around town.”
“Super. Because if you did, it’d be grounds for dismissal. And no offense, but I don’t think you can demo the rest of the store by yourself. You have a name for your shop yet?”
Shoving my empty plate aside, I tuck my knee up under me, twirling a strand of hair around my fingers.
“I’m kicking some names around.”
“What’ve you got?”
“Trix’s Treasures.”
He screws up his lips, shaking his head.
“No good? How about The Peach Pit?”
“Do you want to be associated with a pit? Dirt pit? Armpit? No, I don’t think so.”
“You’re right. Okay—how about Feather Your Nest?”
He runs his fingers over his jawline. “Yeah, I like that a lot. It sounds cozy and chic.”
“Like a shop you’d see in L.A.?”
“Definitely.”
