Breakout (A Dallas Demons Hockey Romance) Page 6

  I smile at her. “Okay. Tell Nate great game for me.”

  “I will. Be careful going home,” Kenley says.

  “I will. See you tomorrow.”

  Kenley then says goodbye to both of us, leaving us alone at the table.

  And as soon as Kenley leaves, I turn back to Niko. Whose gaze is still on my face.

  “So what can I get you?” he asks again.

  “Um, a red wine,” I say, finding my voice. Which I can barely hear over the excited beating of my heart.

  Niko grins. “That leaves the door open for lots of interpretation.”

  “Maybe I’m curious as to how you fulfill my request.”

  His eyes flicker. “I see. I’m going to be judged on the kind of wine I bring back to the table?”

  Heat sears through me from our banter.

  “You’re a producer,” I say smartly. “Let’s see if you can produce a wine I like.”

  Niko laughs, and I join him. His eyes are shining back at me now, and I love that expression in his eyes.

  “This producer doesn’t back down from a challenge,” Niko says sexily. “Your throwdown is accepted. I’ll be back.”

  I watch him head off toward the bar, my confidence swelling inside me. That was flirting. He flirted back with me. And he didn’t even care that Kenley—the most beautiful girl in the room—was right in front of him.

  Niko only had eyes for me, I think in amazement.

  Niko returns to the table with two glasses of red wine. He sets one in front of me and moves to the stool directly across the table. Niko slips out of his suit jacket, tossing it over the back of his seat, and sits down.

  “Before you drink it,” Niko says, “a toast. To a job well done on that open.”

  He lifts his glass, and I happily tap mine against his. “And to your first Dallas Demons production. With no major meltdowns, I presume?”

  Niko laughs. “Your presumption is correct. Cheers.”

  “Cheers,” I say.

  I swirl the wine in my glass and inhale the rich perfumed scent it has. Then I take a sip. Wow. This wine is rich and smooth. Sumptuous.

  And Niko scored a whole bunch of points with this selection.

  “This is perfect,” I say, putting my wineglass down. “The details, please. And the thought process behind the selection.”

  “You are drinking a malbec,” Niko explains, pausing to take a sip of his wine.

  I arch an eyebrow at him as he sets his glass down. “Bold choice.”

  “It suits you.”

  “What? Why?”

  “As a producer,” Niko says, his eyes locked on mine, “I’m trained to make quick assessments of situations. To anticipate things in the truck. So from what I know of you, you’re smart. Stylish. Bold. You don’t do the usual thing. So that’s why I chose malbec.”

  Butterflies shift in my stomach in response to his words.

  “You see me as bold?” I ask in disbelief. I’ve been described as many things—organized, funny, smart—but never bold.”

  “I think it’s pretty bold to step into a workplace you’ve never been before and pretty much guarantee me a kick-ass open when you’ve never done one on a professional level before.”

  I blush from his words, and he grins in response.

  “Well, that was bold,” I admit, laughing.

  “Bold is good,” Niko says, taking another sip of his wine.

  “And so is the wine,” I say.

  Niko leans further across the table. “I feel like I’m shouting at you to be heard in this place.”

  I laugh. “I know, we kind of are.”

  “There’s an independent coffee place down the street. Do you wanna head over there for a coffee?”

  “But you just bought the wine,” I say, hating the idea of him throwing his money away like that.

  Niko studies me from across the table. “I’d rather talk to you than drink wine. If you’re good with that, I mean.”

  He wants to talk. Just like I’ve described in my dream first date, he wants to get a cup of coffee and get to know me.

  “I’m more than good with that,” I say happily.

  Niko slips into his suit jacket, and I slide into my camel-colored pea coat. He escorts me out of the club, through the nearly empty arena, and outside into the brisk November air.

  “So has anyone from Total Access Total Sports contacted you?” Niko asks as we walk toward the coffee shop in the plaza next to the arena.

  “No,” I say, biting my lip.

  “ΓΑΜΩΤΟ!”

  “What?” I say, laughing.

  Niko grins. “Sorry. Sometimes when I’m mad I slip into Greek. That was damn it.”

  “Is someone going to?” I ask, hardly daring to hope.

  Niko nods. “They were really impressed with your open. I know they could use freelance help. Wyatt was supposed to call you today.”

  I stop walking. My heart stops. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah,” Niko says, gazing down at me. “But they will now because Tony Esposito saw your open on the truck and thought it was fantastic. I made sure to tell him you did it.”

  “Thank you for doing that,” I say. “You didn’t have to.”

  “Of course I did. I’d be an idiot not to, for my own reasons.”

  His own reasons. Could that possibly be more than work-related ones?

  Niko’s eyes hold steady on mine as we stand on the sidewalk. Then he clears his throat, and the moment is over.

  “It’s cold. Let’s get you inside before you freeze,” he says.

  I’m anything but cold right now, but nod as though I am. As we walk to the café, I feel nothing but elated. Not only do I feel like I might have a chance with Niko here, but with Total Access Total Sports, too.

  Niko opens the door to the coffee shop, and I step inside. The place is really cute, with rustic hardwood floors, cozy seating arrangements, and dim lighting. I’m greeted by the wonderful scent of freshly brewed coffee the second I pass through the door, which I love.

  But the scent of coffee is nothing compared to Niko’s cologne that I’m inhaling right now as he moves behind me.

  Oh, that cedar and spice scent is so sexy. Just like the man who’s wearing it.

  “Gingerbread latte?” Niko asks, interrupting my thoughts.

  I refocus on coffee, which takes almost superpower ability at this point.

  “Yes, please.”

  Niko steps up to the counter and places an order for one black coffee and my gingerbread latte. We move to the end of the counter and pick up our drinks when they’re ready. Then we find two armchairs in a corner of the café, perfect for an intimate conversation.

  “This is better,” I say, wrapping my hands around the huge ceramic latte cup.

  “Are your hands cold?” Niko asks.

  I nod. “I always have cold hands.”

  Niko places his cup on the little table between our chairs. “Give me one.”

  “What?” I say, laughing.

  Niko grins. “Come on, Lexi, trust me. Give me one of your hands.”

  I bite my lip. I shouldn’t trust him. I don’t really know him yet. There’s still plenty of time for me to misread this whole thing, for him to want an editor and nothing more. And if that’s the case, I’m getting in over my head by letting him touch me.

  But I do trust him.

  I have no reason to, but my heart tells me I can.

  So I put my cup down and extend my hand to him.

  Niko gently places his hands over mine, and the second he does, I feel nothing but pure electricity inside of me. His hands are warm, and he gently rubs my hand in between his.

  “Shit, Lexi, your hand is l
ike ice,” Niko declares as he massages my hand.

  I can’t speak. I swallow hard. This gesture—of him wanting to simply warm my hands because they are cold—tells me so much about the man he is.

  “Okay, give me the other one,” Niko says.

  I give him my left hand and now Niko warms that one.

  “Thank you,” I say softly.

  “You shouldn’t be cold,” Niko says, a protective tone entering his voice.

  I don’t have any chance of leaving this coffee shop without falling madly for this man.

  “Of course, when you’re working in the studio, you’ll need to get some fingerless gloves so you don’t get frostbite,” he continues.

  I laugh. “Studios are always freezing. And I can only hope to freeze to death there soon.”

  Niko releases my hand, and I pick up my cup again.

  “Can you afford to do part-time work?” Niko asks, taking a sip of his coffee.

  I hesitate before answering. Normally I might keep this under wraps, or wait until much longer to speak so personally, but when I look at Niko’s honest and genuine face, I feel safe.

  Safe enough to tell the truth.

  “I have a trust fund,” I say softly, taking a sip of my latte. I stare down at the foam in my cup. “Um . . . I’m adopted. My birth father sent me a check when I tried to contact him at sixteen. He sent it with a letter from his attorney, declining contact with me.” I look up at Niko and continue. “My birth parents were teens when they had me. My birth father is a success in Silicon Valley now and didn’t want his family life interrupted. So I guess you could say the money was encouragement to disappear.”

  Niko is staring at me, an unreadable expression on his face.

  “So he wouldn’t even meet with you?” Niko asks.

  “No. My birth mom did,” I say. “She’s an editor for a fashion magazine in New York. She flew here when I requested to meet her. Met with me at a DFW Airport hotel for a few hours so nobody would know.”

  I pause for a moment, as her shame about me still hurts when I relive that awful day.

  “She said she never wanted to be a mom,” I say, continuing. “Her parents made her go through with the pregnancy. My birth mother selected my parents through an open adoption, so she knew them, but wanted no contact beyond that. She met with me one time to answer my questions. But she made it clear that she has her life in New York, that she’s happy, and her future would not include me.”

  “Lexi,” Niko whispers, “that’s a lot for anyone to handle, let alone a vulnerable sixteen-year-old girl.”

  I swallow hard. “It was devastating, to be honest. I had hoped to have the happy reunion. And have an extended family, you know? Because I love my parents-Charlotte and Andrew. Those are my real parents. But I always hoped that my birth parents could be a part of my life, too.”

  “I’m sorry,” Niko says softly.

  “No, don’t be. My birth mom gave me amazing parents. I’m thankful for them making that choice, especially seeing now how they don’t want me in their lives. I’m a scandal that they never want to revisit again.”

  I turn and gaze out the window for a second. Only Kenley and her family know about this. Kenley and my mom were the ones who held me after that horrible meeting with my birth mom, who let me cry, who assured me it was her loss and not mine.

  And now I’ve shared all of this—the most painful part of my life—with Niko.

  “Lexi.”

  I face him. Niko’s studying me, and I realize what I’ve done. I’ve taken a perfectly wonderful start to a date and dropped an emotional bombshell all over it.

  “I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “I . . . I never should have told you all that.”

  “What if I’m glad you did?”

  My heart stops. “But I ruined our evening.”

  “No,” Niko says firmly. “You made it better. I have a feeling you don’t share that story with just anyone.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Then I’m glad you felt safe enough to share it with me,” Niko says. “It stays between us, I promise you that.”

  I see the fierce look in his eyes, and I know he means it.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “And not for nothing, your birth parents are missing a fucking lot by not getting to know you.”

  “It’s okay. They gave me life. They gave me a family. I’m grateful for that.”

  “Your birth parents didn’t reject you,” Niko says firmly. “They didn’t want to be parents to anyone at that point. Big difference.”

  I feel comforted by his words. I’d never considered the situation like that before.

  “I appreciate you saying that,” I say softly.

  “It’s the truth.”

  I decide to shift to him. “So there’s my damage. Tell me yours.”

  Niko laughs. “Do we have time? I have a lot of damage to go through.”

  I laugh with him. “You’re lying.”

  “Oh, you think so? Prepare to be overwhelmed with my personal crap.”

  I tuck up my legs underneath me. “I’m in listening position.”

  Niko flashes me a sexy grin, and my pulse jumps in response.

  “Okay. I grew up in Baltimore’s Greektown with my parents and older brother, Dimitri. Dimitri was the smart one. I always had crazy TV dreams, as my parents would say. Because they saw a bright future for Dimitri, he got to study all the time while I had to work in their bakery after school. My studies didn’t matter because I was going to take over the bakery for them someday. So while I was scrubbing the floor and taking out the trash every night, Dimitri got to study, play sports, go to club meetings, et cetera. To look good on his college applications, you know.”

  The unfairness of what happened to Niko hits me in the heart. His parents showed zero regard for his dreams and forced him to sacrifice everything to help his brother achieve his.

  “Anyway, Dimitri went to law school, graduated at the top of his class, and is practicing law in Baltimore. He married a Greek girl and has a beautiful baby boy. He did everything they wanted.”

  “And you didn’t.”

  Niko runs his hand over his five o’clock shadow. “No. My parents said TV was a pipedream. Stupid. So they put all their money into Dimitri’s education and left me to my own devices. Needless to say, I’m 27 and still paying off a mountain of student loan debt.”

  I swallow. I once again realize how blessed I am that not only did my parents support my TV dream, but encouraged it and paid for all of my education.

  “And then there’s the problem of marrying a Greek woman,” he adds.

  “Are you supposed to?” I ask, incredulous.

  Niko laughs. “Um, your expression kills me. But yes. I’m supposed to marry a Greek woman and have Greek children. That is the only acceptable path for my life. My mom has been researching potential candidates for years now.”

  My heart catches. Could this be true? That Niko would truly only marry someone of his own ethnic background?

  Shit, I’ve lost my mind. Marriage? Why am I thinking of marriage? For all I know, this conversation could take a turn and crash and burn. Or if it went farther, he could be a crappy kisser.

  My eyes instinctively move to his mouth. And oh, those sexy full lips. I can imagine what it would be like to kiss him, to feel his five o’clock shadow burn against my face as the kiss intensified—

  There’s no way Niko could be a crappy kisser.

  “But I’m going to throw out my really dirty laundry now. Are you ready?”

  I blink, mortified by my thought process. Don’t worry about marriage, Lexi, I scold myself. Or kissing or anything else. Right now you are two people having coffee. Period.

  “I’m ready,” I say
, refocused on our conversation.

  “I’m going to marry who I want. I’m not going to make her being Greek a priority. I’m not Dimitri. I won’t do it.”

  Okay, we are light years away from that even being a possibility, but I can’t help it. Elation fills me from his declaration.

  “Dimitri dated all these blonds in college, but when it was time to find a wife, he started going to Greek events to find The One,” Niko continues. “The field was narrowed immediately to that trait when he was ready to settle down. So he followed the family script.”

  “So even if you fell in love with someone who wasn’t Greek, and she was a really good person and made you happy, your parents still wouldn’t approve of that?”

  “They’ve never supported me,” Niko says matter-of-factly. “I challenge them, and they think that’s disrespectful. But there’s no way in hell I’m making a decision on who to marry based on their ethnic background. So no, they wouldn’t support it. In fact, they’d be furious. But I’ve learned to live with that. I’d rather they be disappointed in me than for me to live a life I didn’t want to live.”

  Admiration for Niko swells in me.

  “You have a lot of strength,” I say. “It takes a very strong person to face what you did and still pursue your dream. You had zero support from the people who are supposed to believe in you more than anyone else. You could have used all of this as an excuse not to pursue your dream, but instead, you used it to achieve it.”

  Niko seems surprised by my words. “You see it that way?”

  “How can I not? The kid from the Greektown bakery did good, Niko.”

  “Well, we’ll see. I know I got this job only because Total Access Total Sports was in a jam. I have a one-year contract,” Niko confesses. “They are test driving the car before buying it.”

  “But don’t you see? To even have this opportunity says a lot,” I insist. “They might have been in crisis mode when they found you, but trust me, TATS wasn’t going to hand it over to you unless they thought you were qualified.”