“When you threaten her, it becomes my business. Now, I’d suggest you back off.” Niko allowed his hands to rest next to his side, joints loose and ready. Come on, asshole. Try it.
“Niko, it’s okay,” Alice said, placing a hand on his arm, a slight quiver in her voice.
Ronan ran onto the set and stood right behind Beau, his jaw set in stone, fists clenched. Niko gave a quick shake of his head and relaxed his own stance. He continued to hold the man’s gaze and waited; his years of training allowed him to read the subtle nuances of emotion crossing Beau’s face. As much as Niko wanted to kick the guy’s ass, he would never make the first move. He wasn’t in the the Octagon, but in a kitchen with a man he could easily take down with a single punch.
“No, it’s not. He owes you an apology. He lost. He doesn’t have to like the outcome of the contest but he needs to accept it like an adult.” Niko didn’t budge nor was he about to allow Beau near her again.
Beau extended his bullish chin further and indecision marked his brow. Like most bullies, he wasn’t used to being challenged.
“Uncle Niko.” Chloe’s scared whisper cut through the tense silence.
Her soft plea jarred Beau and snapped him out of his aggressive stance. He backed away from Niko but continued to glare at Alice. “This isn’t over yet. You’ll be hearing from my attorney.”
He stormed off the set and Ronan followed him out. From the rigidity of his stocky frame, he was itching to trounce the asshole. Niko spun on his heel to face Alice. “Are you all right?”
Color bloomed on her cheeks and chilly blue eyes bore into him. She was livid and not at Beau. “I told you I could handle it. Next time, I’d appreciate if you listened to me. This wasn’t the first time I’ve dealt with an asinine man. Please go back to your station. Brooke will take over the interview. I have to call Mitchell before this blows up in our face.” She disappeared behind the bleachers to her makeshift office, the click of her heels echoing on the hardwood.
Brooke rushed on set and flashed Niko a strained smile. “That was intense.”
“You’re telling me,” Niko said. He’d landed on Alice’s shit list twice in a matter of fifteen minutes. She might be pissed but if given the chance, he’d do the same thing all over again. Yes, she could take care of herself, but he couldn’t stand by and allow anyone, male or female, to be physically threatened, no matter how competent they were.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The town car pulled up to the curb next to where Niko leaned against his motorcycle, his pulse racing more than it should have. He hadn’t seen Alice since she’d stormed off the set the night before, but she was stuck in his head. Scratching at the scruff on his jaw, he shifted his feet, impatient to lay eyes on her once more. He couldn’t shake his attraction to her and it sucked.
She exited from the backseat wearing jeans and a white sweater, her curious gaze sweeping the front of the warehouse before she met Niko’s eyes. Alice arched a brow, her smile cool yet inquisitive. She was still mad at him about Beau. He could read it in her face.
“You wanted to know about Grams’s Kids. I could tell you, but it’s easier to show you.” He opened the door, the gentle ringing of the bell sounding loud in the quiet night. While she might not have appreciated his interference, it had been the right thing to do. Beau needed to be put in his place.
Alice swept past him, the subtle hint of her perfume like a siren’s song. Every second he was around her, it was becoming harder to forget their afternoon together. He wasn’t certain if it was because they’d been interrupted at a much-heightened juncture of their play, or if he was developing deeper feelings.
Jenny, the charity’s organizer peeked her head out from behind a stack of boxes. Removing her reading glasses, she tucked her grey hair behind her ear, and flashed them a welcome smile. “Niko, this is a pleasant surprise.”
“Hey, Jenny. This is Alice, she’s the one I told you about from the EN network.”
“I am so pleased to meet you.” Jenny reached for Alice’s hand and clasped it between her own. “Niko is one of our most valued volunteers, and for him to gift us with a large donation, well, we couldn’t do what we do without people like him.”
Niko fought the flush at her compliment. He hadn’t been able to spend much time volunteering and didn’t deserve any praise. “I have to win the contest first.”
“You’ll win, young man, I—” the phone began to ring and Jenny dropped Alice’s hand. “Excuse me, I have to get this. Niko please show this lovely young lady around.”
Alice cast him an amused glance as he placed his palm on the small of her back, shamefully using the opportunity to touch her. She licked her lips and turned her head to inspect the upper shelves, color dotting her cheeks. The attraction was mutual. “Wow, look at all the clothes.”
Unable to help himself, he splayed his fingers along her spine. Self-inflicted torture, not a smart thing on his part but he hadn’t been very smart when it came to Alice. She’d made herself clear on where they stood and he had to learn to live with her decision.
“This is their main warehouse where they keep the sorting stations. They keep the car seats in here, new and within the expiration date.” He guided her into another storage room.
When he’d first come to this place, he’d been impressed by the sheer volume of donations they’d received.
“Car seats expire?” She stepped away from him and inspected them more closely.
Niko tucked his thumbs into his front pockets and reminded himself yet again that this was bigger than him. Not only would 3Square donate when he won, and he would win, but Alice had the chance to shine some light on a great charity.
“Yes, they do, for safety reasons.” He opened a door to expose a large room with a loading dock. There was a decided breeze swirling about the room and Alice rubbed at her sleeves. Niko removed his jacket and laid it across her shoulders. The smell of vanilla and woman that was unique to Alice infiltrated his senses, and he cleared his throat. “This is the diaper and formula room. As you can see, it’s pretty empty right now.”
“Where do the donations come from?”
“From all over the city. There are also several large chains that donate a certain amount of their diaper inventory. Most of the donated items we get are used, or recycled. We’re going to go through that door.” He pointed at a banged-up metal door at the end of a small hallway that opened into a large room. Inside, a dozen disassembled cribs were propped against the walls, a bag of parts hooked on each.
