Not Part of the Plan: A Small Town Love Story (Blue Moon Book 4)

by Lucy Score

  “Well, let’s leave them here to be disgusting, and we’ll go have ourselves a feast,” Phoebe suggested.

  “Woo Hoo!” Caleb raced off.

  Reva rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t even know what car you drive,” she sighed at Phoebe. “I’ll go get him.” She turned and loped after her brother.

  “Thanks for taking them to lunch, Mom,” Jax said, giving Phoebe a kiss on the cheek. And for one second, Niko missed his own mother fiercely.

  Phoebe patted Jax’s cheek. “It’s my pleasure. It’s not often that I magically receive spontaneous grandchildren.”

  She headed off in the direction Reva and Caleb had taken. And Niko thought of circles opening and closing.

  “So how is it being a mom?” Niko asked Joey.

  “Are you asking about the horse or the kids?” Jax joked.

  Joey smacked him in the chest, and Jax rubbed absently at the spot. “You’re hilarious, Captain Hilarious Pants.”

  Niko hid his smile.

  “The kids are great. Funny, smart. I don’t know why Summer and Gia are whining about how hard it is. Reev and Cale made us pancakes for breakfast today.”

  “Maybe having already potty-trained kids with some sense of impulse control is a little easier than twin toddlers or Aurora and a baby?” Niko offered.

  “I think we’re just better at it than they are,” Joey said with a shrug and a grin.

  “Yeah, make sure I’m not around if you decide to offer my brothers that nugget of insight,” Jax warned her.

  Joey rubbed her hands together. “I’m still working on my delivery. I can’t wait to see Summer and Gia’s faces when I say it. They’re going to freak.”

  “See why I love my diabolical wife?” Jax asked Niko.

  “It would be hard not to,” Niko agreed.

  “Where’s your woman?” Joey asked. “I wanted to ask her for her bruschetta recipe. My parents are coming tonight to meet the kids.”

  “That reminds me, I need to swing by the brewery and pick up a six-pack,” Jax said, rubbing his palm over his chin.

  Joey raised an eyebrow.

  “I guess I’d better make that two six-packs,” Jax amended.

  “I never would have thought in a billion years that you and my dad would be all BFFy,” she said shaking her head.

  Jax gestured at himself. “What’s not to like?”

  “What did your parents say about you two becoming instaparents?” Niko asked.

  Joey grinned. “Nothing yet.”

  “Jojo!” Jax whipped around to face her. “You didn’t tell them?”

  She shrugged. “You know how they are. If you give them too much of a head’s up, they think too much.”

  “So you’re just going to spring a seventeen-year-old and a six-year-old on them?”

  “They think they’re coming to meet Eclipse.”

  Jax groaned. “Diabolical.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Emma returned—with two shoe bags—and they abandoned the stand to Jax and Joey. They spent the rest of the morning visiting and shopping, teasing each other with bites of fresh cheese and samples from OJs by Julia.

  This was what a community felt like, Niko decided, raising his camera when Aurora threw her arms around Gia’s neck in a sticky-fingered hug. Warm, welcoming. He wouldn’t mind experiencing more of this.

  Maybe it was time to start really thinking about the future? What was it that he really wanted? More of the same, or something different? Better.

  Emma was irresistible, he thought, watching her haggle over salad greens and free-range chicken breasts with Farmer Carson who, though in his nineties, clearly had a crush on the redhead. Niko loved watching her swing into action, loved her unshakeable confidence, her attitude. He couldn’t remember ever spending time with a woman like this. The ones he’d dated casually had been more interested in talking industry gossip and not eating because of whatever shoot they had the next day.

  Had he been missing out his entire life?

  Chicken and greens purchased, they picked up gyros from the Greek stand and carried them to the gazebo where more than twenty knitters were setting up.

  “This is why I have to live here,” Emma said, shaking her head in wonder as men and women readied what looked like large, colorful logs of thick merino wool yarn.

  “I’ve never seen yarn like that,” Niko said, raising his camera.

  “They’re race arm knitting blankets for the children’s hospital over in Cleary,” Emma explained.

  Niko dropped his camera. “I don’t understand that particular combination of words.”

  Emma laughed and took a bite of her gyro. “Just watch. The contest is first team to one standard sized blanket. They’ll trade off every time they swap out yarn,” she explained.

  Niko gave her an incredulous look.

  “What? It was in The Monthly Moon,” Emma explained.

  Ellery was onstage readying herself behind a stack of black-as-midnight yarn. She waved in their direction.

  “Some poor kid in the children’s hospital is going to end up with the blanket of death,” Niko quipped.

  Emma elbowed him in the ribs. “Very funny. Get your camera ready, they’re about to start.”

  Niko forgot all about his gyro when the action started. Arms blurred with speed, and chunky sections of yarn turned into thick rows of knit blankets. The competition was fierce and filled with good-natured cheating. He captured Bruce Oakleigh sweating over a skein of pink wool while Mrs. Nordemann, Elvira Eustace’s knitting partner, crawled over to tie his loose yarn in a knot around his chair leg.

  An out of town knitting duo sang off-key folk songs so loudly that the team next to them kept missing stitches and shooting them dirty looks while Bobby, the dreadlocked proprietress of Peace of Pizza, “accidentally” kicked another team’s yarn off the makeshift stage.

  Ellery was clearly a pro. She settled noise-cancelling headphones over her ears and her yarn between her feet where no other contestants could get to it. Any time anyone invaded her personal space, she stomped her Frankenstein shoe on the stage. The intimidation appeared to be working as she was a full row ahead of the competition.

  Niko shot the action and the crowd until Emma covered his lens with her hand. “Okay, Annie L Leibovitz. Let’s enjoy the fun without a camera for a minute so I can make sure you know how to live on the other side of the lens.”

  “One more,” Niko insisted. He called Evan over. “You mind taking a picture of us?” he asked.

  Evan handed the dripping ice cream cone he’d been working on to a friend and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Sure!”

  Niko looped the padded strap around the boy’s neck and gave him the point and click instructions. He returned to Emma and wrapped his arms around her waist.

  “Smile pretty for the camera.”

  “You go from not wanting to pick up a camera to wanting to capture every second of the day?” Emma teased. “Don’t you know how to live in the middle?”

  Niko gave her a pinch. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  ––—

  Forty-five minutes later, the knitting action came to a climactic finish when Bruce Oakleigh and his wife, Amethyst, edged out Ellery for the big win by two stitches. Emma hid her smile when Niko rushed forward with the crowd to capture the awarding of the prize. Davis Gates, the young and dashing owner of Blue Moon Winery, presented the year’s supply of wines to the ecstatic Oakleighs. Bruce’s victory speech lasted twelve minutes until Bobby, her silver dreads sparkling in the sunshine, elbowed him out of the way and thanked everyone for coming out to show their support of race arm knitting.

  Niko returned to her, grinning at the screen of his camera as he flipped through his bounty.

  Emma crossed her arms in amusement. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were starting to like Blue Moon.”

  “What’s not to like?” he asked, looking up from the screen, his grin irresistible. “I’ve got a beautiful girl who’s go
ing to grill dinner for me tonight.”

  “Emma! Yoo hoo!” They turned to catch Bruce Oakleigh bouncing on the balls of his feet to peer at them through the crowd. He waved frantically. “Emma!”

  She waved back, a sunny smile plastered on her face. “Now what do you suppose Blue Moon’s race arm knitting champion wants with me?” she asked without moving her lips.

  “He probably wants you to weigh in on the powdered wig debate. I hear it’s getting heated,” Niko whispered behind his hand.

  Bruce dodged and weaved his way to them arriving in a huff of breath. He combed one hand through his silvery beard and another through his fluff of hair before straightening his cranberry sweater vest.

  “Congratulations on your big win,” Emma said extending her hand. Bruce shook it enthusiastically.

  “Thank you! Amethyst and I have been practicing all hours of the day and night for this, and the effort really paid off. It’s nice to finally meet you, Nikolai,” he said, offering his hand to Niko.

  “Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I flagged you down like a crossing guard.” Before Emma could answer, Bruce launched into his explanation. “I’m glad I ran into you, Emma. Gordon mentioned you were interested in looking for a place to call your own, and the whole town is just thrilled to death that you’re staying. Now is the time to buy. It’s a buyer’s market in Blue Moon, and there are so many wonderful properties available. I took the liberty of speaking to Rainbow at the bank, and she assures me a loan would be no issue. And to top it off, I have the perfect property for you. It just came on the market yesterday.”

  He paused long enough to breathe and wait for a response. Bulldozed and open-mouthed, Emma merely stared.

  “So what do you say? I’ve got a few minutes before Anthony comes to take our victors’ picture for the paper. It’s only two blocks from here, and we could just pop in and take a look around. Nikolai, you should come too. See what square footage you can get here as opposed to the city.”

  Hearing no opposition or verbal noise of any kind, Bruce clapped his hands. “Excellent. Now you just follow me, and we’ll be there before you know it.”

  “He’s taking us house-hunting,” Niko whispered to Emma as they followed Bruce’s nimble strides down Patchouli Street. “Does that mean he’s going to ambush us with a marriage license and a reverend?”

  “He’s taking me house-hunting,” Emma hissed back. “He didn’t even ask how many kids we were planning on having. I think this is about making a sale, not a match.”

  Bruce led them two blocks north of the park to a shady street and a lot with what looked like a round garden shed. “Well, what do you think?” he asked, his enthusiasm made Emma wonder if perhaps he could see something other than the garden shed.

  “Is that a tool shed?” she asked with a frown.

  “Oh my goodness, no! It’s a yurt,” Bruce announced with fanfare. “Come in. Come in. You’re going to love it.”

  She hated it.

  They walked into a space that looked like a pantry with a futon. Freestanding shelves were stacked with canned goods, books, toilet paper, and clothing.

  “Now this would be your living/storage room/closet,” Bruce announced. “Aren’t the high ceilings spectacular?”

  “Hmm,” Emma hummed.

  Niko elbowed her and winked behind Bruce’s back. “It’s something, isn’t it Emma?”

  “Now around this half wall you’ll see the previous owner cleverly combined functions,” Bruce said, walking the two steps into the next room. They crowded in after him.

  “Why is there a drain in the kitchen floor?” Emma asked with great trepidation.

  “This is the clever part.” Bruce pointed to the suspended showerhead above them.

  “There’s a shower? In the kitchen?” She said the words slowly, not quite believing that they were coming out of her mouth.

  Niko let a laugh slip and covered it with a cough.

  “Oh, not just a shower! The under the sink cabinet pulls out and that’s your toilet!” He pulled the slider out with the flourish of a magician revealing a rabbit.

  “Is that even legal?”

  Bruce frowned thoughtfully and wagged a finger. “You know, I’m going to have to check the municipal codes on that and get back to you.”

  “What would you call such a multi-purpose room?” Niko wondered.

  “That’s the best part.” Bruce leaned in as if he was going to share a secret. “It’s called the bitchen.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  June arrived with a mellowing of temperatures and an excess of sunshine. The farm was in full swing as produce poked its green fingers through freshly turned soil. The days were longer and busier. Niko lent a hand whenever he could on the farm. The brewery was booked with bridal showers and baby sprinkles and anniversary celebrations, and Emma was working overtime to keep up with it all.

  He was shooting everything these days. The deadline for the upcoming show this month served as creative motivation, and Niko spent long hours capturing his subjects and even longer hours editing. And when he wasn’t doing that, he was reassuring his agent Amara that he hadn’t fallen off the face of the planet or forgotten how to work a camera.

  Bruce Oakleigh hadn’t given up on his quest to find Emma the perfect home. Despite her repeated objections that she wasn’t really ready to look for a house, she’d seen a yurt, a tree house, and an eight-bedroom brick mansion that until two months ago had been a funeral home. While Niko enjoyed tagging along with her to view the properties, he’d begun to wonder if Blue Moon had any normal residences.

  When they weren’t working or shopping for real estate, he and Emma made up for lost time in the midnight hours. Eva had returned to her Virginia home and, while Emma was sorry to see her sister go, she and Niko took advantage of having the cottage to themselves. Keeping the front door securely locked, they explored each other with the desperation of teenagers.

  It worked. They worked. But Niko knew they were both wondering what would happen next. He couldn’t leave his life and work in New York forever. Eventually he would have to return. And what would that mean for his relationship with Emma?

  Antsy and needing a change for the afternoon, Niko packed up his laptop and drove his bike into town. He had work to do on the photos he’d culled out for the show. Overly Caffeinated, a spacious café on the corner of Main and Lavender, promised free WiFi and necessary caffeine.

  He ordered a coffee from a teenage girl with a spiky cap of orange hair and settled in at a table facing the wide expanse of glass that overlooked the park. He’d already culled out thirty shots for the show. They were different from any of his other work, and that was the beauty of them, he supposed, of going from high fashion, orchestrated photo shoots to capturing and freezing real life moments.

  Each picture carried with it a story and a feeling. Hope, friendship, victory… and more. Much more, he thought, opening his favorites of Emma.

  It was no surprise how often she’d shown up in the shots for the show. If he were to look at her pictures objectively, as if they were someone else’s, he’d assume that the photographer had strong personal feelings for his subject. There was a kind of magic that translated through the lens when model and photographer were bonded. He could see it in these, he thought slowly clicking through the files.

  Emma mid-twirl in her groomsmaid dress. Emma shaking a cocktail behind the bar at the brewery. Emma lecturing staff before the dinner rush. Emma kissing her father at his wedding.

  Yes, there were strong feelings there, he thought. Strong, complicated feelings.

  There was another one he’d taken recently that he thought might fit. Emma sleeping, the sheets draped and wrapped around her naked body, a hint of a satisfied smile on her lips. They’d made love, and she’d fallen asleep when he went downstairs for water. He hadn’t been able to help himself snapping the picture. The intimacy of the moment, the power of her even asleep.

  He inserted the camera card into
the slot and waited while his files uploaded.

  “Excuse me,” the café’s orange haired barista was back. “We just made these, and we need a taste tester. Fresh organic oat bars,” she said, offering up a smile and a plate with what looked like a granola bar on it.

  He wondered what it would be like to go back to New York where no one tried to bribe him with free stuff into liking the community.

  “Thanks,” he said, accepting the plate.

  The girl wandered off again, and Niko took a bite while he flipped through the pictures. The Knit Off, in its blur of color and action, filled his screen, and he entertained himself flipping through the files. There were a few shots that he could use for the show, he decided, culling them into a separate folder to be edited.

  He closed one image and clicked to open the next one, and his organic oat bar lodged in his throat. It wasn’t a shot he’d taken. It was the one he’d asked Evan to take.

  Emma was looking up at him and laughing, her hands splayed across his chest as he pulled her into him. But it wasn’t her face that demanded his attention. It was his own. He’d seen that look before, knew it so well that it pulled him back to another time. He hadn’t noticed it. It had crept up on him. But in the picture it was clear that the resemblance to his father was striking as was the expression on his face. Niko was looking at Emma the way his father had looked at his mother in those quiet, private moments when they thought no one else was watching.

  It was love.

  The realization hit him harder than a ton of bricks dropped from above. He was leveled. He’d known he had feelings for her, strong ones. He just hadn’t realized until this second what those feelings were.

  He collapsed back in his chair and stared through the glass to the park where life continued on without any indication that the world had turned upside down.

  ––—

  Still reeling from his discovery, Niko jumped at the invitation to Man Night Poker at Beckett’s. Emma was working, and he wanted to distract himself with something until he could process his epiphany and decide what, if anything, to do about it.