CHAPTER FOUR
Niko rose and hustled after Emma. He caught her on the stairs between the Friday night happy hour crowd on the first floor and the family chaos on the second. “Hang on, Emma,” he said, touching her arm lightly. She tugged away from his touch and nearly keeled headfirst down the stairs.
Niko’s hands clamped on her arms to steady her.
“Holy shit,” she breathed. “I would have broken my face.”
“It’s too nice a face for breaking. Why the hell are you wearing those shoes?” he demanded. “You’re going to be on your feet for hours.”
“I like to look professional,” she said, frowning up at him. But this time she didn’t try to pull away.
“This is Blue Moon. They’d think you’d look more professional in clogs or Birkenstocks.”
“I like these better than clogs,” she retorted. “And are you really keeping me from my plethora of managerial duties on a very busy Friday night so you can complain about my footwear?”
“A. No one said I was complaining. I like the view just fine. B. I’m taking up your time because I want to add something to my order.”
“If you say my phone number, I will throw your ass down these stairs.”
“Actually I was thinking dinner—”
“You’re not my type,” Emma announced it as though she’d said those very words a thousand times before.
“Actually, I meant Reva. You were right. The only time she looked away from Joey was to stare at the appetizers on the table. She’s hungry.”
Emma blinked. “You want to buy Reva dinner?”
“Yeah.”
Her face softened marginally. “I already have the kitchen putting some sandwiches together for her,” she confessed.
“Why, Emmaline,” Niko teased her with her full name. “Patching up employee love lives and feeding mysterious strangers? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you had a heart.”
Her smile, grudging though it was, was worth his wait.
“If I didn’t know better, Nikolai, I’d think maybe you weren’t just a vapid player.”
Niko laughed. “Go out with me. Just once, Emma. I’ll take you to the nicest place in Blue Moon and let you insult me all night.”
“A. This is the nicest place in Blue Moon. And B. I don’t date masochists,” Emma said, her tone haughty.
He studied her a moment, enjoying the energy that sparked between them and the light of challenge in those moss green eyes. “At least do me a favor,” he cajoled.
She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
“Throw in a few pieces of apple pie with the sandwiches and put it on my bill.”
“That I can do.”
“Look at us getting along.” Niko tempted his luck and leaned in a little closer.
She didn’t back off. Instead, Emma leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Hands off, Big Bad Wolf. I’m no one’s Red Riding Hood.” And with those parting words, she ducked out of his grasp and sauntered down the stairs. There was a little extra sway to her hips that Niko hoped she put there just to torture him.
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Niko climbed the stairs with a grin on his face. Emmaline Merill was a challenge, and that’s exactly what he needed right now.
He spotted the now obviously made-up Joey and Jax locked in a passionate embrace outside the second-floor restrooms and averted his eyes. As many times as he’d shot romantic scenes, nothing ever exactly compared to the real thing. There was no Photoshop filter to mimic the look and feel of two people in love.
He returned to his seat and found his meal waiting for him.
“What was that all about?” Summer asked, bouncing Jonathan in her lap.
“What?” he asked, not bothering to cover his smirk.
“You bolting out of here after Emma.” Summer tugged a strand of hair out of her son’s grabby fingers. “I’ve never actually seen you run after a woman before.”
“Maybe I never met one worth chasing.” He picked up his beer and laughed. Summer’s blue eyes were wide with shock. “Relax. I just wanted to ask her something.”
“Did you ask her out?” Summer hissed.
“Only to annoy her,” he grinned. “She turned me down.”
“And does she have any clue that’s like waving a cookie in front of Clementine?”
“Your metaphors are suffering since you moved here.”
Summer snorted. “Tomorrow, I’ll give you a cookie to wave in that goat’s face, and you’ll see exactly what I mean,” she promised.
“Nothing like down on the farm fun,” he quipped. “Now tell me everything you know about Emma.”
Gia, who was delivering a freshly changed Lydia to Beckett, overheard him.
“You and Emma?” She leaned between them and snatched a French fry from Niko’s plate.
“Thoughts?” Summer asked.
Gia nipped the fry in half. “As much fun as my sister would have with you, dear Niko, it’s never gonna happen.”
“Reeeally?” The way Summer drew out the word told Niko she was firmly in his corner. “I think you’re underestimating the appeal of my Russian bad boy pal here. He’s more than just a pretty face.”
“That’s the problem,” Gia insisted as if he weren’t there. “He’s the exact opposite of her type. Sexy playboy who only does casual flings? She goes for golf playing, preppie guys with boring jobs. There’s no way straight and narrow Emma is going to give up on her idea of Mr. Perfect for a steaming hot roll in the hay with Niko here.”
Summer frowned, considering. “Care to put some action on it?”
Gia’s grin was quick and sharp, a predator sensing easy prey. “Oh, hell yeah. One unit?”
“I’m feeling lucky. Let’s make it two.”
Gia whistled. “Someone’s awfully confident in your flirting abilities, Niko,” she teased.
“Oh, good. You remembered I’m still here.”
They ignored him and, shuffling babies, shook on the bet.
“What’s a unit?” he asked.
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Emma let herself in the front door and pried off her shoes, sighing with relief. She could have changed out of them for closing. But Niko’s criticism weighed heavily in favor of an extra hour of torture just to prove she could. Her sisters called her stubborn. Emma preferred to think of herself as strong-willed.
Her feet were tough and so was she, she thought, dumping her bag on the little foyer table she’d added to the cottage’s décor.
Her self-imposed year-long trial period in Gia and Beckett’s guesthouse coincided with the one she gave herself at the brewery. And she was officially sure it was time to start looking for a place of her own in this ditzy, sweet town.
Emma limped into the tiny kitchen where she poured herself a glass of merlot. She’d been worried that the culture shock of leaving L.A. for Blue Moon would break her brain.
It had taken her some time to get used to the little town and its… quirks. But Blue Moon had won her over with its unapologetic weirdness, unpretentiousness, and pride in its oddity. Everyone was welcome here, enfolded into the culture without being asked to assimilate. In Blue Moon, you were good enough just because you existed.
That wasn’t to say that it hadn’t still been a difficult transition. In L.A., she’d go out for drinks with friends after closing. The night was just getting started. In Blue Moon, by the time the brewery’s midnight closing rolled around, the rest of the sleepy town had been shut down for hours.
She took her wine to the window and stared out into the night. She was content here. Maybe a little lonely in the late nights, but that was to be expected. Yet, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she was waiting for something. And the only thing she knew for certain was that she’d find it here.
She wasn’t unhappy, Emma qualified. But she also wasn’t the deliriously ecstatic woman Gia was.
She looked out at the main house that rose cool and white in the sliver of spring moonlight. Its gables and elegant trim cast a romantic spell. Within its walls, her sister loved and lived. Is that what she wanted? Emma asked herself. Was she ready to finally call someplace home, finally ready to start her life?
A vision of the devastatingly gorgeous face of Nikolai Vulkov rose in her mind’s eye. That crooked, cocky smile, angular cheekbones and granite jaw. He was exquisite and other-worldly… and he obviously knew it. Emma wondered why, when he looked as he did, he chose a life behind the camera rather than in front of it.
She could only imagine the agents and brands that would quiver with anticipation at that face. Niko was like a joyride. Something dangerous and ill-advised that would make a woman’s system sing until the adrenaline wore off and she had to face the consequences of a bad decision.
Niko was a bad idea, and she was wise enough now not to fall prey to a pretty face again. He was not the stable partner she was looking for. Of that she was sure. And it would be best for her to forget all about him.
With a sigh, Emma sank down on the couch. She pulled her tablet into her lap and dialed her night owl sister on the video chat app.
Eva’s pretty face and disheveled hair filled the screen.
“Hello, fellow night dweller,” Eva said by way of a greeting.
Emma’s little sister wrote mysterious technical manuals for a living and moved around like a vagabond, but Emma managed to catch up with her once or twice a week. It was usually late at night when normal people were tucked safely into bed.
“So, how was your date this week?” Emma asked. The incurably optimistic Eva was always on the lookout for love.
“Ungh.” Eva wrinkled her nose in distaste, inching her reading glasses higher. “He lives with his grandmother as a freeloader and mentioned we should go back to my place to have sex since ‘Gram-Gram is a light sleeper.’” She shoved her hands through her mass of red hair that she hadn’t bothered styling that day.
Emma choked on her wine. “So how was it?” she teased.
“Oh, my God. You’re disgusting!”
“Where do you find these guys?”
Eva rested her chin on her hand. “This one I met in the convenience store. He picked up the iced coffee I’d ordered. I thought it was a mistake and a ‘meet-cute’, but looking back, I think he was trying to steal it.”
“Eva,” Emma sighed out her sister’s name.
“Hey, at least I’m meeting guys. You live in Hot Guy Heaven and have yet to land a sexy farmer or a poetic candle maker. I know Beckett is fresh out of single brothers, but there’s got to be some cousins in that family tree.”
“For your information, I did meet someone today,” Emma tossed back.
“Does he freeload off of his grandmother?”
Emma couldn’t imagine Niko freeloading off of anyone. “Definitely not,” she answered.
“Ill-fitting glass eye that falls out?” Eva asked.
“I’ll make him blink extra hard next time I see him to make sure. You know the guy on the cologne commercial?”
Eva sighed dreamily. “The one who comes out of the water glistening like a Greek god, and he’s wearing those sexy white briefs that you can almost see through?” She closed her eyes and let her mouth spread in a feline smile. “Chest like a linebacker? Biceps perfect for defending damsels in distress?”
Emma nodded. “That’s the one. This guy is cologne commercial hot. I bet women walk into glass doors staring at him. I almost took a header down the stairs looking at him.”
Eva squealed. “More information please!”
“He stops traffic when he walks in the room, and when he looks at you, your heart literally stops.”
“He looked at you?”
“It would have been weird if he didn’t look at me while he asked me out.” Emma allowed herself to gloat just a teensy bit. “Technically, he demanded that I go out with him.”
Eva pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks and then her face lost all its glee. “Why’d you say no?”
Damn. Emma hated being predictable. “Who says I said no?”
Eva rolled those emerald green eyes heavenward. “You always say no. What was wrong with Mr. Perfection?”
“He’s got this whole ‘dangerous, bad boy, player’ thing going. Not my type.”
“You’re bad boy prejudiced,” Eva accused.
“Shouldn’t we all be?” Emma felt her defensiveness kick in. “This guy is an award-winning fashion photographer. He’s probably got a new model on his arm every night of the week. He’s the kind of man who would talk you into dropping your panties in a coat closet at a party, dole out orgasms like after dinner mints, and then never call you again.”
“I don’t think you’re making the point you think you are,” Eva interjected, wistfulness tingeing her tone. “I keep hoping I’m going to call you one day, and you’ll have eloped with someone you met in a rainstorm with a flat tire.”
Emma shook her head pityingly. “You are so weird.”
“Subject change?” Eva offered.
“Definitely,” Emma agreed. “When are you coming in for the wedding?