Page 16 of Not Part of the Plan
He shifted gears from work to life. “Where did you grow up?”
“How did you get involved in restaurants?”
“College?”
He didn’t press when he asked about her mother, and she told him she’d left. Instead, he smoothly redirected and asked her how she felt about her father’s upcoming wedding.
The physical exertion and the sweaty god-like scenery kept her walls down just enough that his persistent questions didn’t bother her much.
He asked her about life in Blue Moon versus L.A. About her youngest sister and about her own culinary skills. By the time the interval timer on her phone buzzed, announcing the end of their self-inflicted torture, Niko knew her GPA in college and how old she was when she found out that Santa wasn’t real.
Emma guzzled water from her glass bottle and felt her muscles vibrate. She’d pushed herself harder with Niko there, a lot harder. His mere presence seemed to challenge her.
“What’s next?” he asked.
She eyed him. “Yeah, you see that sweat angel I left on the floor over there? That means I’m done.”
“But the night is young,” he protested. “Emma, I beg you. Be a friend. Don’t send me back to the house yet.”
She glanced at the clock. It was nearly midnight, the dead of night in Blue Moon.
“Let me buy you a drink,” he said suddenly. “Please, just tell me there’s a bar that’s still open.”
She chewed on her bottom lip, considering.
“Just as friends,” he added. “I’ll let you ask me questions.”
“Just friends,” Emma clarified warily.
He held up his palms. “Platonic pals. I’ll even let you buy the first round.”
She was probably making a mistake. A six-foot two-inch, gorgeous mistake. But the offer was more appealing than burning off her post-workout buzz alone at home poring over sales reports.
Shit. When had that become her Saturday night?she wondered, horrified.
“Let me get cleaned up, and we’ll go. I get to ask the questions. We drive separately. And if we run into anyone named Ellery or Rainbow, you’re my first cousin.”
“Do I want to know what that last stipulation means?”
Emma shook her head. “You really don’t.”
“Deal.”
She was already regretting it when she pulled a hoodie over her sweaty tank in the locker room. Her hair was an unsalvageable nightmare, so she piled it on top of her head in a knot. She frowned in the mirror, remembering the care she used to take with her appearance for drinks on a Saturday night or dinner on her nights off with Mason. Mason, the nice guy who she probably would have ended up marrying had it not been for Jax’s job offer. She’d given him little thought since her move to Blue Moon. It felt like light years ago. A different life, a different person.
She wrinkled her nose in the mirror. She smelled like gym socks, and her abs were a quivering mess from the planks, and she was about to go out on the town with Nikolai Vulkov, famed photographer and model-dater.
He’d impressed her, hanging with her through every plank, every interval. She liked a man who wasn’t afraid to work hard. Those lean, hard muscles were clearly earned and not just from a genetic lottery.
She heard a loud thump beyond the locker room door and shoved her things in her bag before rushing out.
“What was that?” Emma asked, glancing around. “It sounded like a body hitting the floor.”
Niko, who was sitting on a weight bench near the door, shrugged. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“Weird,” she murmured.
He’d pulled on a long-sleeve tee that accentuated the broad expanse of chest and the rippled stomach beneath. The curling tips of his dark hair were still damp with sweat. There was no way around it. Nikolai Vulkov was perfection.
