CHAPTER SIX
The parking lot of Blue Moon’s only bar still had a dozen vehicles—including a handful of hybrids, rugged pickups, and one tractor—in it when they arrived.
Neon signs proudly promising ice-cold beer brands glowed in the windows. On the inside, it could have passed for any normal bar in any normal part of the country, except for the Jimi Hendrix and Woodstock art adorning the walls. Touches of tie-dye and wheat grass vodka shots listed on the menu reminded Niko that Blue Moon was closer to Oz than New York.
He followed Emma on shaky legs as she maneuvered her way through the tight tables to the L-shaped bar. Even after her shift of chaos management at the brewery and a workout for super heroes, she still moved with purpose. He, on the other hand, could barely stand.
The sound she’d heard at the gym was indeed a body hitting the floor. His after his knees gave out. Niko had always thought of himself as fit. He was a New Yorker, and as such, walked everywhere. He frequented a gym and often worked up a sweat. A brisk jog on the treadmill followed by crunches and weights was an enjoyable way to maintain his physique and keep up with any woman’s demands in bed.
But what Emma had unintentionally goaded him into had been a holy terror of a workout. He’d just decided on claiming a fake hamstring pull or an emergency phone call when she’d finally declared the torture over.
Niko wondered if Emmaline Merill would be the first woman he’d fail to keep up with in bed. Not that they were lovers, of course. But if their friendship happened to evolve…
With great relief, he slid his aching body onto the barstool next to Emma’s, stifling a whimper.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the competition,” said the point guard-sized bartender, winking at Emma as he doled out drink napkins.
“Gotta update my corporate espionage files.” Emma wriggled her eyebrows, playing along. “Ed, this is Niko. Niko, Ed—or Shorty as he’s affectionately known in his family.”
“Runt of the litter,” Ed explained and offered a dinner plate-sized hand over the bar. “Welcome to Shorty’s.”
“Thanks,” Niko said, shaking his hand.
“What brings you two out so late?” Ed asked, handing over menus.
“We ran into each other at the gym,” Emma said, perusing the menu. “Niko is staying with Summer and Carter who’ve been in bed for hours.”
“Ah,” Ed nodded in understanding. “New Yorker?”
“Born and raised.”
“You must be enjoying the nightlife that Blue Moon has to offer,” Ed joked.
“Ed here is a real comedian,” Emma said dryly.
“So what post-workout beverages can I interest you two in?”
“Dirty martini, please,” Emma decided.
“I feel like it would be culturally inappropriate of me to drink in Blue Moon without trying a wheat grass shot,” Niko mused.
“You could be run out of town,” Ed agreed. “Chaser?”
“Beer.”
Ed headed off to make their drinks, and Emma raised a speculative eyebrow at Niko.
“What?” he shrugged. “I’m embracing the local culture.”
“You know, there’s something to be said for tried and true.” She pointed at Ed pouring organic vodka into a cocktail shaker.
“But if you stick with tried and true, how will you know what you’re missing out on?” Niko countered.
“I thought I was the one asking the questions?” Emma reminded him.
Ed set their drinks on the bar in front of them.
“Can I get another one of these for my open-minded friend here?” Niko asked, pointing at the vibrant green shot.
Emma wrinkled her nose when Ed set the shot in front of her.
“I’d think you’d be used to stuff like this, coming from L.A.,” Niko said.
“Maybe I came here to escape cold-pressed juice and protein pancakes.”
“Either way, I’m glad you’re here to keep me company during my lonely nights.”
“That’s sounding a little too friendly,” Emma warned him, shifting on her stool to face him.
He grinned. He liked seeing this softer, slightly less guarded side of her. In her cozy sweatshirt, with her messy hair, she was infinitely more approachable. Niko liked that she had no qualms about being seen in public without a blow out and a full face of makeup. He didn’t know many women in the city who would be as confident without their armor.
He held his glass to hers. “To friends.”
Her lips quirked. “To night owl acquaintances,” she countered.
They knocked back the grass green liquid, and Emma immediately reached for her martini. “That tastes like a mouthful of mowed lawn,” she gasped.
Niko studied his empty glass. “That wasn’t bad.”
“Wasn’t bad? Now, there’s a ringing endorsement,” Emma grumbled.
“But you tried something new. Isn’t the adventure alone worth something?”
“Uh-uh.” She jabbed a warning finger at him. “I’m asking the questions now, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Friendly.”
Niko picked up his beer and leaned an elbow on the bar. “Ask away.”
“Why are you in Blue Moon indefinitely?”
He blanched. “How about we work our way up to that one? Let’s start with some nice easy questions. Consider it foreplay.”
Emma took a tidy sip of her martini. “Fine. We’ll warm up with some softballs. How old are you?”
“Thirty.”
“Books or movies?”
He smirked. “I live in Manhattan. We’re all about live performances.”
“I bet you don’t spend much quiet time at home to read,” she guessed.
“Mmm, not so much,” he agreed. He didn’t spend much quiet time anywhere, except when he was editing photos.
“So what are you doing when you aren’t at home and you aren’t working?”
Given the extra innocent look on her face, Niko knew she was setting him up. “Why don’t you just ask me how many women I’ve dated?”
“Oh, is that what they’re calling it these days?” she asked slyly. “Nikolai, we’re friends.” She put a hand on his arm. “There’s no judgment here.”
Oh, there was plenty of judgment in those meadow green eyes. “I like women,” he acknowledged.
“But not one enough to stop seeing all the rest of them?”
“First of all, I don’t ‘date’ more than one woman at a time. Secondly, I’m not against relationships. I just don’t have time for them.”
“Do your ‘dates’ know that?” Emma prompted. She was leaning in, and he liked it. Her cheeks had that rosy glow again, and her eyes sparkled. He liked seeing Emma enjoy herself, even if it was at his expense.
“Let’s stop with the air quotes before one of us sprains a finger,” he suggested, grabbing her hands out of the air. Her fingers stilled in his.
“I’ve never lied to get a woman into bed. Everyone I’ve taken there understands that I’m not looking for anything serious.”
“And why aren’t you looking for something serious?” Emma slid her fingers out of his grip and popped an olive between her plush lips. What was it about her that drew him in? he wondered.
“I told you. I don’t have time for a relationship—”
“Cop out!” Emma fake coughed into her hand.
He glared at her, but she didn’t back down. “Fine. I don’t make time,” he admitted.
“Better. Still-not-the-whole-truth.” Emma’s coughing fit was beginning to draw eyes.
“Tenacious,” he accused.
“Friends don’t lie to friends.”
He looped a finger around the neck of his beer bottle, staring at the condensation rings it left on the bar top. “I don’t know why,” he said with a shrug. “I guess I haven’t found what I think my parents had. I don’t think you can work towards or ‘date’ your way to that kind of love. And until I meet the woman who makes me look at her the way my dad looked at my mom, I might as well enjoy casual and fun.”
He glanced her way. Emma’s eyes narrowed as she weighed his words.
“Your bronchitis clearing up?” he teased.
“I never would have pegged you, ‘the wolf,’ as a romantic,” she confessed.
“I thought I was a player?”
“A romantic player,” she amended with a smile that warmed him from the inside out. “You remind me of my sister Eva, ever hopeful that a sweep-you-off-your-feet love is right around the corner.”
“Does that change your mind about going out with me?”
She shot him a bland look. “That makes dating you even less appealing.”
“How is that even possible, Emma? How could wanting to settle down with the right girl be worse than serial one-night stands?”
“Not only are you sowing your wild oats now, but you’re expecting this perfect woman to come along and make you want to give all that up so you can live happily ever after.” She poked him in the chest. “That’s unrealistic and setting yourself up for failure.”
Fascinated, Niko shifted on the stool. His knee pressed against hers. “And what’s your plan for success?”
“I’m going to choose a man with life goals that parallel mine.” She said it as if it were the most obvious solution in the world.
“That’s so…” He couldn’t quite come up with a word describing how depressing that was.
“Pragmatic? Realistic? Intelligent?” she offered, her expression cocky.
“Boring.”
“I can understand how Nikolai ‘A Different Model Every Night’ Vulkov would think so,” she sniffed.
“Is that judgment I detect?” he teased, taking a long pull from his beer.
“Not between friends,” Emma said, fluttering her thick lashes at him.
“Smart ass. So, while you’re waiting for Mr. Life Goals, why don’t you want to have some fun?”
She shook her head, sipped. “Uh-uh. I don’t need any distractions. I’ve got enough on my plate.”
Niko leaned into her space, testing. She didn’t pull back, and the air between them crackled with awareness. “I don’t know whether to admire your delusions or feel sorry for you,” he whispered as if imparting a secret.
Emma gave a husky laugh, and Niko felt the sound go straight to his gut. She was a dare, and it was the first time in weeks that he felt like rising to one.
“While you decide between those two sterling options, let’s get back to the questions. You mentioned your parents. What are they like?”
“My mother was a wonderful, talented, amazing woman. She was a ballerina, actually. But when I came along she decided she’d rather be a mom. She still performed occasionally, taught more, but she was just this beautiful, warm, funny woman.”
“Was?”
“She died when I was fifteen. Cancer.”
Emma’s hand covered his where it rested on his leg. He hoped that she couldn’t feel the tremor of his muscles. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “It was a long time ago.”
“But you never stop missing her,” she guessed.
“And I never will,” he predicted. “She and my dad married at eighteen and left Russia to start a new life here. My dad was a civil engineer. An engineer and a ballerina,” he smiled wryly. “But they made it work. Our house was always full of music and friends. There were always extra plates set for dinner. I couldn’t tell you how many times I walked into the kitchen to find my parents dancing.”
“It sounds wonderful,” Emma said.
“It was a great way to grow up. I hope someday I can give kids that kind of childhood.” Niko frowned down at the empty shot glass. And just where the fuck had that sentiment come from?
“Are you and your father still close?”
He thought about it. “Not as close as either of us would like,” he said finally. “Mom was the glue, and without her, our lives carried on in different directions. He remarried a few years ago. A nice woman.” That he’d never really bothered to get to know, he realized. Niko picked up his shot glass. “What do they put in these shots? Truth serum?”
“Well, as long as you’re feeling truthy. Let’s talk about why you’re here.”
“What makes you think this isn’t just a vacation?” he asked, evading the question. He nodded at Ed for another beer, and Emma asked for a water.
She watched him expectantly, her chin on her hand. He let her wait, and she rolled her eyes.
“I Googled you,” she admitted and pointed a finger at him before he could gleefully accuse her of being interested. “Uh-uh, Romeo. You travel to Paris and Rome and Berlin. Every once in a while, you and the lucky lady of the week head to the Caribbean or Mediterranean. You do not vacation on a farm in Blue Fucking Moon.”
He liked a woman with a mouth on her, one who knew when to swear for emphasis rather than lack of vocabulary. “I want more points for not pointing out that cyber-stalking proves some level of interest.”
She looked unimpressed and settled back on her stool to wait. “What better way to prove how seriously you’re taking our fledgling friendship than by being honest with me?”
He studied the fresh beer Ed dropped in front of him. “Fine. But I’m already reconsidering our friendship. You’re very annoying.”
She gave him a swift, un-Emma-like kick to his bare shin.
“Ouch! Okay,” he grumbled, rubbing his abused leg that immediately went into spasm. “It started a few months ago. I have the perfect life. Everything I’ve been working toward I already have. My job is interesting. I live in an overpriced loft in one of the most expensive cities in the world. I date beautiful women. I can buy just about anything I want.”
Emma polished off the last of her martini but said nothing.
“And then one day, I woke up, and none of it felt like what I wanted anymore.”
“Ouch,” she winced.
“Exactly. Work went from this creative, high-energy experiment to me shooting on autopilot. The women I’d enjoyed seemed to lose all their color and appeal. I felt like I was shooting—and dating—clothes hangers.”
She grimaced.
“Yeah? Imagine how I feel. My whole life revolves around photography and—” he shot her a glance. “Women. But it feels as though the interest just dried up and disappeared.”
“And you thought coming here would…” she prodded.
“If you repeat this to Summer, I will murder you and feed your dismembered body to a variety of farm animals,” he warned.
Emma scooted closer. “Tell me,” she demanded.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I thought if I came here, spent some time on the farm with Summer and the kids, that I’d remember how lucky I am and get excited about my own life again.”
Emma’s eyes were dancing with amusement. “You’re slumming it in your best friend’s life to feel better about your own choices?”
He clamped a hand over her mouth. “Why don’t you yell that a little bit louder?” he hissed, looking over his shoulder. “I just thought getting out of my own life for a bit would remind me how much I actually enjoy it.”
She pried his hand off of her face. “And you’re hoping that comparing diaper duty and working in the fields and going to bed when you’d normally be heading out for dinner and drinks is going to reawaken your creative energy and your appreciation for beautiful women?”
He scrubbed his hands over his face. “When you put it that way, it sounds stupid and elitist.”
“It’s not,” Emma laughed. “It’s really not. I actually get it. I’m just trying to imagine Summer’s reaction if she ever found out that you’re using her life as a scared-straight ‘thank God my life doesn’t suck like yours does’ comparison.”
“You’re not going to tell her are you?” Niko begged.
“Of course not,” Emma replied, indignant. “I will, however, hold the information over your head and torture you with it whenever possible. It’s the right thing to do.”
“And I’m back to regretting this friendship.”
Her playful expression had something stirring inside him, something that felt a lot like interest and want.
“Well, don’t you two look cozy?”
Niko noticed that Emma recoiled from him at the chipper greeting from the woman who approached. Dressed in pinstripe slacks and a boxy blouse, the only hint that the brunette was a Blue Moon native was the peace sign belt she wore.
“Rainbow,” Emma’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “What are you doing out with the rest of the night owls?” She gave Niko’s shin a nudge with her sneaker.
Rainbow? She’d warned him about someone named Rainbow. In any other town, he’d assume that this woman was the only one. But he just couldn’t make those assumptions in Blue Moon.
Rainbow held up an empty wine glass. “Board of directors meeting ran late, so I thought I’d sneak in a chardonnay before bed. What are you sneaking in?” she asked, turning her appraisal to Niko. “Rainbow Berkowicz, bank president,” she said, extending her free hand to give Niko a firm shake. “And you are?”
“Nikolai Vulkov, visiting photographer.”
“He’s my—”
“Friend,” Niko interjected before the word “cousin” could come out of Emma’s mouth.
“He’s just visiting Summer and Carter for a few days before he heads back to the city,” Emma explained hastily.
“We’re having a post-workout drink if you’d care to join us,” he offered and enjoyed the scarlet flush of rage as it rose high on Emma’s cheeks.
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude on your date,” Rainbow announced with the slightest upturn at the corner of her unpainted mouth. “I’ve got an early morning.” She put her glass on the bar and walked out, whistling.
“Craaaaap.” Emma slapped a hand to her forehead. “Crap. Crap. Crap.”
“What just happened? Why are you afraid of someone named Rainbow?”
Emma dropped her hand and snatched his beer from him. She drank deeply and shot Ed a dirty look when he smirked at her.
“What the hell is going on?” Niko demanded.
Emma handed him his beer. “We just became targets.” She slid off her stool and reached for her wallet.
“Targets of what?”
Ed leaned gleefully over the bar. “The Beautification Committee.”