by Lucy Score
“What if I don’t find anything?”
“Then we’ll start looking for jobs for you around Blue Moon. How do you feel about auto detailing? Or do you by chance have any experience in the law? I’m sure Beckett could use a partner.”
“Maybe I could wrangle goats?”
Emma grinned. “That’s the spirit.”
He looked at her and sighed. “I’ll think about it.”
She nodded briskly. “That’s all I ask. Wedding’s on Sunday.”
Niko leaned in over the arm of his chair, his expression intent, and suddenly the evening chill was replaced with a wave of heat. His fingers brushed hers where they lay against the wood of the chair, and he picked up her hand, holding it in his.
“Why do you care, Emma?”
She looked away from the questions she saw in those dark eyes and instead focused on their joined hands. His grip was warm, solid. She felt her blood heat as if he had the power to warm her from the inside out with just a casual touch.
She should pull free, reestablish the rules. But Emma answered him first.
“I’m a fixer. You confided a problem in me, and now it gives me great joy to force solutions on you until the problem is solved.”
She couldn’t read the thoughts happening behind those serious eyes. But her pulse picked up, an instinctive warning. Dangerous territory.
She reclaimed her hand and put some space between them, ordering her heart rate to steady. Just friends, she reminded herself.
Niko shed his intensity like a jacket. “Now that we’ve worked through my creativity crisis, what’s next on the evening’s agenda?”
Emma produced a deck of cards. “Know how to play Dutch Blitz?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Emma woke in the middle of the night. But this time, it wasn’t dreams of a certain smoldery photographer who had walked her to her car at two o’clock in the morning and brushed her hair back from her face before kissing her lightly on the cheek that left her skin coated in sweat. It was much, much worse.
She barely made it into her broom closet-sized bathroom before losing the contents of her stomach in a spectacular, gut-wrenching fashion.
Long minutes later, when she could stand, Emma dragged her sweaty, shaky self back to her disheveled bed. Her head pounded as if a jackhammer had taken up residence in her skull, and the rest of her body ached down to the bones.
She was dying. It was the only answer that made any sense. She had moments left on this earth because her own immune system was trying to murder her. She couldn’t remember if any of the kids had been pukey this week. Who could keep up with so many of them? Emma lulled her head to the side and peered blearily at the clock on her nightstand.
Maybe this would be just a quick bug, and she’d bounce back in the morning. She could shake this and be back on her feet for work. The power of positive thinking.
Her stomach lurched. “Oh, God,” Emma whimpered.
She inhaled with the desperation of a deep-sea diver, willing away the nausea. “I’ve got this,” she whispered. “Piece of—”
––—
Niko kicked back at the conference table in Thrive’s open office and waited while Summer finished up a video chat with a freelancer. Sunlight slashed through the windows at the far end of the open space. She added a few tasteful, colorful accents since the last time he’d visited. The white walls and light pine flooring were warmed with touches of green from two plush arm chairs and stylish artwork that adorned the ship lap wall. Candles and knickknacks and framed photos breathed more life into the office.
Barely a year old, his friend’s online magazine was, well, thriving. After years slaving for a high fashion rag, Summer had shifted her focus to tell the stories of real men and women in a lifestyle site geared toward health-conscious readers. It was a disruption to the system and still a bitter pill to swallow for her former boss, Katherine, who hated to see her ex-prodigy succeed on her own. Niko made sure to mention how well Summer was doing every time he did a shoot for Indulgence, knowing full well word would get back to the impeccably dressed Katherine behind her glass desk.
While Summer discussed the series on heart rate monitors with the writer, Niko examined the photos on the walls. He’d shot some of them. The one of Gia upside down in wheel pose had been part of the yoga series. He got up to study it closer. And found what he was looking for. The spark.
Every model had that spark of life in them, and he made it his mission to tease it out of them. It was like catching a glimpse of someone’s soul, he thought. And it was what had been missing lately. Without that spark, that soul, a picture was just a picture. It didn’t tell a story or provide a window into a life.
He wondered if he’d be able to find the spark in the bride and groom and do Phoebe and Franklin—and their family, one member in particular—justice if he said yes. He’d felt a low-level anxiety ever since Emma had broached the idea. He didn’t want to do it, didn’t want to fail. But it was practically impossible to say no when she looked at him with those sea goddess eyes alight with excitement.
God, he had it bad for her. It made him restless, constantly thinking of her. At night, he’d lay on his bed, hands stacked under his head and staring up at the ceiling as he thought about her smile, her eyes, that incredible body.
Niko turned his back on the photo and his problems. The basket of yarn balls on the table caught his eye, and he plucked up one the color of ripe grapes on the vine. He tossed it in Gia’s direction when she charged up the stairs and made a beeline for her workstation.
She stuck her tongue out at him and chucked the yarn back at him. He lobbed another one in her direction.
Summer disconnected and clapped. “Locked down September’s week one feature!”
She and Gia raised their hands for an air high five.
“Nerds,” Niko smirked. “What’s with the yarn? You take up knitting in your spare time?”
“It’s a teaser for the Blue Moon blog. The Annual Knit Off is coming up,” Summer said.
“When did you start a Blue Moon blog?” he asked.
“Readers are fascinated by Woodstock Jr.,” Gia explained. “Thrive is boosting tourism here. Eden at the B&B says she’s booked solid through summer,” she said proudly.
“Plus, it gives us more content for the site, and we can use local advertisers on the blog posts,” Summer said, all business.
“Moving on to the Knit Off?”
“Apparently every spring, knitters from miles around congregate in One Love Park on the day of the Farmers Market Festival to race knit. The first knitter to hit ten feet of scarf or whatever the predetermined size is wins something weird,” Summer filled him in.
“I think it’s a year’s supply of wine from Blue Moon Vineyards,” Gia piped up.
“That’s better than last year’s prize,” Summer smirked. “I believe Donna June Macomber walked away with a lifetime supply of organic fish bait.”
Niko laced his fingers behind his head. “Okay, I know you two live here, and so you’ve probably been indoctrinated, but I’ve still gotta ask. Do you think this place is weird?”
“Oh, totally,” Summer snorted.
“The weirdest,” Gia agreed. “But we love it.”
Summer nodded in agreement. “Best place in the world.”
“Just checking,” Niko told them.
Gia’s phone dinged from the depths of her humongous bag. “Shit. Now what am I late for?” she muttered, pawing through baby accessories and adult woman trappings. “Oh, no! Emma’s sick.”
Niko leaned forward as if he could glean more information just by getting closer to Gia.
“Is it the stomach bug?” Summer asked sympathetically.
“She said she’s praying for a swift death.”
“Yeah. That’s the stomach bug. Jonathan had it over the weekend.”
Niko hadn’t really noticed since it seemed like both kids threw up a lot, sick or not.
“Does she need anything?”
he asked, coming to his feet. “I could take her some soup or some ginger ale…” He trailed off when he saw the looks of interest that passed between Summer and Gia.
“You’d better cool that puppy love before the Beautification Committee sniffs you out,” Summer snickered.
“Oh, I’ve already met Rainbow.”
“What! When?” Summer wheeled her chair to the side of her desk so she could see around her monitors.
“When Emma and I were at Shorty’s—”
“Hold it!” Gia wheeled her chair around, too. “You and my sister were out together?”
“Yeah, we’ve been hanging out.”
That shut them both up. They were gaping at him like hungry fish in a koi pond.
“Yes!” Summer pumped her fist into the air. “I’m so winning this bet.”
“It’s nothing serious,” Niko reiterated. “She’s not interested in dating me.”
“You asked her out?” If Gia’s voice got any higher, windows would start cracking.
“On multiple occasions.” He shrugged. “She’s a little stubborn.”
“‘A little’ is an understatement. I can’t believe we missed all this.” Gia griped. “Babies really do ruin everything.”
Summer wheeled back to her monitors and began to type furiously. “Son of a bitch. You’re already in Blue Moon’s Facebook group. How did we miss this? We’re terrible friends. Technically Gia, you’re a terrible sister, and I’m a double terrible friend,” she said ruefully.
“Either one of you want to explain what’s wrong with you? Limiting ourselves to this particular moment, of course.”
Gia winged the ball of yarn back in Niko’s direction. “You’ve been seen around town with Emma by the Beautification Committee. You’re practically engaged,” she explained.
“Look at his face!” Summer gasped. “He’s not freaking out at that statement. Why aren’t you freaking out?”
“I am too freaking out,” Niko argued.
“Uh-uh,” Gia shook her head. “You got this contemplative look on your face.”
“You guys are freaking me out. I’m not dating Emma. I’m not looking to get engaged and move to Tie-Dye La-La Land. There isn’t a place on earth that’s a worse fit for me. I’ll leave you to your crazy.” He backed out of the office.
He was not contemplating any of that, Niko told himself. Well, maybe the dating part and definitely the sex part. He liked spending time with Emma, liked the sparks, liked the challenge. She was gorgeous, stunning even, but not in the way he’d grown accustomed to. Those willowy models with perfect pouts and sexy slinks didn’t capture his interest the way Emmaline Merill had. He knew with an uncanny certainty that if they ended up in bed together, it would be better and bigger than anything he was used to.
Niko jogged down the stairs and out the side door of the barn. Interest didn’t mean future. Interest meant present moment. Maybe he’d pick up a few things and drop them off at her place. That didn’t mean he was looking to settle down. He was just being a good friend. Niko nodded to himself. He’d hit the grocery store, pick up a few essentials for the diseased, and drop everything off. That’s what friends did, right?
CHAPTER NINE
Niko started at Farm and Field Fresh, the local grocer and discovered the produce and organics section to be sixty percent of the store. Only in Blue Moon, he thought, eyeing up the yards-long sprouts section.
He decided to entertain himself and hopefully Emma by texting her a running commentary on his shopping trip.
Deathbed deliveries arriving shortly. Any special requests? Ginger ale? Vomit bucket? Coffin lining samples?
He stocked up on tissues and tea and was studying the medicine selection when he felt a firm tap on his shoulder.
The woman had waist-length hair the color of the palest gold. She wore cowboy boots, jeans, and a plaid button down. She smiled at him, and her lavender eyes crinkled when she smiled. “You must be Summer and Carter’s house guest,” she said, shoving her hand at him.
He took it, intending to shake it, but she flipped his palm up and skimmed her fingers over the skin. “You have a very long, very fractured love line,” she said matter-of-factly as if she were discussing the weather.
“Hi, I’m Nikolai,” he said pointedly.
“Mmm, yes I know,” she said, frowning intently at his hand. “My, eleven children is a lot. Oh! Silly me, that’s your money line. My mistake!”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name,” Niko said with growing concern. The crazy meter in Blue Moon went higher than anywhere else he’d visited.
“Willa,” she said in a breathy voice.
“Can I have my hand back, Willa?”
“Hmm? Oh, sure,” she said. She made no effort to conceal her study of the items in his basket. She frowned, placing a hand on his forehead. “You’re not ill,” she announced. Strangers just didn’t walk up to people and try to diagnose them in grocery stores in the city. Blue Moon was fucking weird.
“It’s for a friend,” Niko said, even as he warned himself that he didn’t actually owe Willa an explanation.
“Of course!” Her eyes widened. “Your ‘friend’ Emma,” she said, with an exaggerated wink.
“Yes, my friend Emma.”
“Well, you’re going to need some flu medicine because she refuses to go strictly holistic,” Willa said, switching into I-play-a-doctor-on-TV mode. “And let’s get you some bone broth and coconut water. Maybe some fresh yogurt full of probiotics. She’ll need protein and electrolytes.”
She floated off, and Niko wasn’t sure if he was supposed to follow her or if he should just try to escape.
“Hurry up, Nikolai.”
Think I’m being kidnapped by someone named Willa. She’s trying to lure me into a van by promising me extra probiotics in my yogurt.
There was still no response from Emma by the time he left Farm and Field with four canvas bags of ingredients that Willa and the rest of the entourage they’d picked up around the store recommended to treat Emma’s flu. Each item that went into his basket—and then cart when the basket overflowed—was Blue Moon-made. Niko felt like he’d gone shopping in the visitor’s center gift shop.
Then, as if to prove how friendly the town was, Willa, the store clerk, an elderly farmer named Carson, his friend Ernest in grease-stained coveralls, and the girl in the meat department, all chipped in for a get-well card for Emma and signed it.
Niko tucked the bags into the backseat of his rental. He picked up the packet of loose tealeaves and shook his head. He had no idea what the hell to do with thistleweed tea. Hopefully Emma knew what to do with it. But first, he was under strict orders to hit OJs by Julia before stepping foot in Emma’s house.
He found the shop, painted a bright green, situated on the corner of Main and Patchouli next to Abramovich’s Jewelry. A bell jingled above his head when he ducked into the storefront. Benches and chairs with thick plum-colored cushions butted up against lime green wainscoting. The coolers, filled with mason jars holding a color wheel of juices, were highlighted under stainless steel spotlights. The chalkboard menu was artistically drawn, but still legible, and listed juices with catchy names like Beet Root Reboot and Berry Balance Blend.
He pulled out his phone and rattled off a text.
At the juice joint. How many prunes do you want in your smoothie?
“Nikolai, I presume?” A woman with a pink punk rock haircut and an eye-searing neon apron propped her elbows on top of one of the coolers.
“Word travels fast,” he said, rubbing his temples.
“Especially when it involves ‘six-feet-two-inches of walking sex.’” She laughed when Niko cocked an eyebrow at her. “I’m quoting Mrs. Nordemann, who caught a glimpse of you in the grocery store while buying out their selection of trashy romance novels. I’m Julia, by the way.”
“I’ve met more neighbors today than I have in the three years I’ve lived in my building,” Niko quipped.
“You’ll get used
to it if you stick around. People have even less privacy around here than they do living on top of each other in the city,” she grinned.
“I’m getting the feeling that you’re not kidding.”
“Nope. So Emma’s sick?” Julia asked as she danced out from behind the counter. She wore black skinny jeans and a paisley patterned tunic.
“So I hear.”
“Willa called over and said you were on your way, so I pulled a couple of juices that should help,” Julia said, pulling a paper bag out of the tall cooler in the corner. “This one is infused with ginger to help with the nausea,” she said pulling out a jar filled with what looked like apple juice. Next came a pink one and then a green one. “This one’s an immunity booster, packed full of citrus fruits for vitamin C. And this one is her favorite. So once she’s back on her feet, she can enjoy it.”
“Thanks, Julia,” Niko said, pulling out his wallet.
“You’re getting the flu season discount, even though it’s not technically flu season,” she said, slim fingers flying across the screen of her register.
“Thank you. That’s very nice of you,” Niko said, handing over cash.
“We’re a nice town. A nice place to live,” she said with a crooked smile. He got the feeling she was trying to pass him an encrypted message and was amused about doing so.
The back door of the shop opened, and two kids raced in ahead of a man in a hockey jersey carting a third.
“Gird your loins,” the man called out in warning. “Here come the troops!”
“Mooooom!”
Julia’s face lit up as the two ambulatory kids hurled themselves into her arms. “Hi, my lovelies!”
“Hi!” the little boy in an Avengers t-shirt and pajama pants chirped.
“Why aren’t you wearing real pants?”
The little boy eyed Niko and gave him a nod. “Hi,” he said suspiciously before turning back to his mother. “Because I didn’t wanna. Dad’s not wearing real pants.”
Niko’s gaze tracked to the man’s well-worn gym shorts.