Page 11 of Not Part of the Plan
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.
