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nova

I shouldn’t be nervous.

I’m way too cool for that.

Not to mention, I’m comfortable.

My sneakers squeak against the tile as I wander through the gift shop of the Rainforest Cafe, dodging shelves of stuffed frogs and tie-dye T-shirts that say I SURVIVED THE STORM! Such a dramatic slogan for a restaurant that simulates thunderstorms, but hey— I loved that shit when I was younger .

I flick my gaze toward the entrance. No sign of Luca yet.

Good. I need a second to breathe and compose myself and pretend I’m unaffected by the anticipation.

To busy myself, I pick up a plastic snow globe with a tiny, spinning parakeet inside and give it a shake, watching dozens of colorful butterflies flutter inside.

“Cute.”

The deep voice rumbles right behind me, so close that I nearly fling the damn snow globe across the gift shop. My breath catches as I spin around, clutching the overpriced trinket like it’s a live grenade.

“Jesus,” I exhale, pressing the snow globe against my chest. “ Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” I set it back on the shelf.

Luca is completely unbothered.

“Nah. Just checking your reflexes.”

Dang.

Up close and personal, he is bigger than I remember. Massive, even. Broad shoulders, thick arms, the kind of build that makes it painfully obvious he plays hockey for a living.

And he knows it, too. Standing before me all smug, giant hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, unaware that my heart rate just kicked up a billion notches.

I straighten my spine. “My reflexes are perfectly fine,” I mutter. “You’re so lucky I didn’t chuck this at your head.”

“Tsk tsk. Let’s not choose violence before we even sit down for a drink.” He leans in slightly, lowering his voice like he’s sharing a secret. “Wouldn’t be the first time a girl’s thrown something at me.”

I hum in satisfaction, stepping ahead of him into the restaurant, where plastic vines dangle from the ceiling and animatronic monkeys silently judge our life choices. The whole place smells like fried food and fake plants.

It’s loud—kids shrieking, the distant roar of an animal that’s probably supposed to be a lion, and the occasional clap of thunder, mixed with the sound of rain and exotic birds chirping.

I barely register any of it.

Because Luca is trailing behind me and I feel it. I feel him.

The weight of his gaze on my backside as I make for the bar, which is shaped like a gigantic freaking mushroom, and hop up onto a glossy toadstool.

I slap the stool next to me—a rhinoceros’s ass—so he’ll sit down.

“You want me to sit on a rhino’s ass?” His brows lift.

I flutter my lashes innocently. “It’s a premium seating experience. ”

With a deep sigh, Luca plants himself down. “You sure know how to show a dude a good time.”

I giggle.

“Hey guys, I’m Ranger Mike. Welcome to the Rainforest.” The bartender suddenly appears, introducing himself, leaning against the bar top. Slaps down two coasters and two menus. “I’ll be back in a second to take your order.”

Luca immediately picks up a menu, squinting at the laminated page. “Why is every drink named after a wild animal?”

I roll my eyes, snatching his menu because he doesn’t deserve to hold it if he’s going to mock our options. “Because everybody loves a theme, obviously. Do you want the Python Punch? Or maybe the Tiger’s Tonic?” I gasp. “Oh! The Giraffe Guzzle!”

He laughs. “That sounds obscene.”

I nod, closing the menu. “It does. We’re ordering it.”

“Are we sharing already?”

My heart flutters. “Sure, why not. They’re twelve dollars.”

His eyes get wide. “Twelve dollars?” He grabs the menu again, scanning the page. “Why is it so fucking expensive?”

“The cup glows,” I inform him. “And we get to keep it! Think of it this way; you can hand it down to your future kids one day. It’s a family heirloom .”

“Do you mean OUR future kids one day?” he quips back and I look down at my menu, not wanting to let him see how much that affected me.

Thankfully Ranger Mike reappears to save me from THAT statement, and we order the Giraffe Guzzle and a side of his favorite—dinosaur chicken nuggets with a side of ranch for dipping.

Satisfied, Luca stretches his long legs out. The oversized bar is dimly lit, glowing jungle lanterns casting weirdly dramatic shadows over his sharp features.

God, he’s hot .

Too hot, honestly. The kind of hot that makes a girl do stupid things, like stare too long at his mouth or wonder what it would feel like to tug on the hoodie strings currently dangling near his chest.

But I’m cool. Completely unfazed.

So, naturally, I blurt out, “You’re really big.”

Luca’s brows lift, and my brain immediately malfunctions. “Big?”

Oh my God, I didn’t mean it like that! I wasn’t implying that he has a big dick!

That was not an innuendo.

And yes, he’s attractive—annoyingly so. Built like a goddamn wall, broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his hoodie, long legs sprawled out because they have nowhere else to go. I’m not just checking him out, I’m noticing everything about him.

Objectively.

Like any normal woman would do.

“I mean—” I scramble to recover, waving my hands like that’ll somehow erase the words hanging between us. “You take up a lot of space. Physically.”

His lips twitch, amusement flickering across his face, but he doesn’t let me off the hook. “You checking me out?”

“No,” I lie instantly, grateful yet again for Ranger Mike and his impeccable timing as he places a monstrosity of a beverage down in front of us. Giant goblet. Two orange straws sticking out. Pineapple chunks loaded onto a skewer. And a palm leaf. “I just noticed.”

His smirk grows, full of something smug and teasing, and I hate that it sends an embarrassing flutter through my chest.

“Thanks.”

I roll my eyes, reaching for the drink just to give my hands something to do, pulling out the palm leaf so I can get my face close enough to sip from it. “You must really love yourself.”

He grins. “Somebody’s got to. ”

His tone gives me pause. Somebody’s got to? What does that mean?

I slide the drink toward him.

Watching as he takes a sip of our ridiculous neon drink, I study his jaw as it flexes, my eyes fastened to his Adam’s apple as he swallows.

Yum.

It’s stupid, but for whatever reason the words sit heavy in my chest. Luca Babineaux doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who doubts himself— not even a little . He’s always laughing, always charming, always…

Nice.

He walks into rooms like he owns them, plays hockey like it’s second nature, talks like he’s never second-guessed a single word that’s come out of his mouth.

As I open my mouth to reply, his posture straightens, eyes flicking over my shoulder toward one of the many jungle-shaped televisions mounted above the bar.

“Huh.” He nods toward the screen. “Preseason hockey recaps. Can’t believe the season’s starting soon.”

I turn, glancing at the TV.

Highlights from a recent game play in slow motion—a player from an opposing team slams into the boards, a crisp pass, a goal celebration with gloves tossed high in the air.

“You ready for it?” I ask, shifting back to him.

Luca hums, rolling his shoulders. “As ready as I can be. We’ve got a solid lineup this year, it’s gonna be a grind.”

I nod. “Gio says the same thing.” Taking a sip of our drink, my lips purse when the yellow liquid hits my tongue.

Luca snorts. “Gio says a lot of things.”

I laugh. “Fair point.”

He smirks, resting his elbow on the bar. “Speaking of, does your brother know you’re here with me right now?”

I swirl my straw through the glowing mess of our drink, pretending to think. “Mmm… definitely not. You know how he is.”

“I do know.” Luca slides our drink in his direction and takes another sip. “Beginning of every season, like clockwork, we get the ‘keep your dick away from my sister’ speech.”

I blink. “ Wha t?”

Luca smirks, setting the drink back between us. “Oh yeah. Your brother fucking l oves that speech. ‘I see any of you sniffing around her, and I’ll personally rearrange your face.’ ”

I groan, burying my face in my hands. “I hate him.”

“Nah,” Luca says, nudging my knee under the bar. “You love him. He’s just being a classic overprotective big brother.”

I drop my hands, glaring. “There’s protective—and then there’s psychotic. Do you think I need my brother protecting me from the big, bad hockey players?”

“No.” He chuckles, something flickers in his expression. “I think he’s just looking out for you. Doesn’t mean you need him to…” He lifts a shoulder. “Can’t really say I blame him.”

Luca is not laughing at my brother’s expense or trying to worm his way around Gio’s rules.

He’s acknowledging them.

And I don’t know why that makes something warm settle low in my stomach, but it does.

I clear my throat, suddenly needing something to do with my hands. I reach for our drink, swirling the straw before taking a sip, forcing myself to focus on the ridiculous giraffe-themed cup instead of the way Luca is watching me.

The second stretches too long, tension humming between us like a live wire, until, mercifully, Ranger Mike reappears, setting the dino nuggets on the bar top, along with cutlery.

“Still doing okay over here? Drink still treating you right?”

I nod. “Absolutely. The Giraffe Guzzle is everything I dreamed it would be.”

Luca snorts, snagging a nugget from the plate and dunking it in ranch. I grab my own, dragging it through an absurd amount of ketchup before popping it into my mouth.

Luca eyes my sauce-to-nugget ratio with open judgment. “You okay there? Want a little nugget with your ketchup?”

“So good.” I chew pointedly, licking a drop from my thumb.

“This is the dumbest date I’ve ever been on.” He says it so seriously, so matter-of-fact, that I almost choke on my nugget.

“Excuse me?” I place a hand over my chest, feigning deep offense. “You begged me to be here.”

He raises an eyebrow, dipping his next nugget in ranch. “Weird. I don’t recall begging ...”

I smirk, tilting my head. “Do the words one hour, one drink ring a bell?”

Luca shakes his head, feigning confusion. “Nope.”

I roll my eyes. “Gee. How convenient.”

He grins. Then—without missing a beat—leans in slightly, resting his forearms on the bar. “What happens if we go over time?”

…and just like that, my heart stumbles…

Not the way his eyes stay locked on mine, steady and aware. Not the fact that, for the first time all night, the teasing feels like it’s walking a dangerously thin line into something else entirely.

I reach for our drink, needing something to do, but Luca doesn’t look away.

“Depends,” I say, keeping my tone light. “Are you hoping for extra time with me?”

Luca taps his fingers against the glass, considering. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

Obviously he wouldn’t.

He’s the one who wanted this date in the first place.

A warmth that has nothing to do with the neon glow of our drink spreads through my chest and everything to do with the way he’s watching me, his fingers absently tracing the condensation on our glass.

I swallow nervously, taking one of the dino nuggets and plopping it into the ketchup, biting off half of it to avoid his intense stare.

"You wouldn’t be opposed to it," I echo, letting them settle between us. "Not exactly a glowing declaration of enthusiasm."

Luca huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Would you prefer if I got down on one knee right now and begged for another date?"

I arch a brow, popping the reminder of the nugget into my mouth. "I mean—it would be entertaining to see you down on your knees.”

I did not intend for that to sound the way it sounded. I can see he takes it as such, smirking as he leans toward me. I catch the faint scent of his cologne—clean, warm, woodsy.

"I’ll keep that in mind for next time."

Next time .

Luca is easygoing, charming in that quiet, self-assured way, but I know better than to assume those two words mean anything.

Still, when his fingers brush against mine as he reaches for another nugget, I don’t pull away.

"You’re assuming there will be a next time," I boast, tilting my head.

His gaze flickers to our hands. Then back to my face.

"I am." Luca leans back slightly, dragging his fingers along the rim of our glass. "Call me Mister Optimistic."

I should shut this down. I should remind him that my brother would kill him if he knew we were here, sitting across from each other like this, hands nearly touching, conversation dipping into something dangerously close to flirtation.

I don’t.

Instead, I shift in my seat. "What makes you so sure I’d agree?"

"Because you’ve already agreed once," he points out. “And I’m convincing.”

I scoff. "That’s a pretty low bar for success. "

Luca laughs softly. "I’ll take what I can get." He lifts the drink, swirling the ice among the bright yellow liquid before taking a sip. Then, as if it’s an afterthought, he adds, "For the record, there’s no need to make a big deal out of this. We don’t have to tell your brother if you don’t want to."

We don’t have to tell your brother. The words hang there, light and careless. I feel the weight of them.

Our little secret.

Our dirty, little secret…

“Is now a good time to mention that if we have to keep something hidden—it’s probably a terrible idea!”

He nods. “Probably.”

That’s it? That’s all he’s going to say?!

I open my mouth to object, but he cuts me off before I can rattle off a list of reasons we shouldn’t be here in the first place.

"You’re overthinking it," he says, voice softer now. “Stop.”

"You’re not thinking it enough," I counter, no bite in my words. My traitorous mouth actually has the audacity to smile at him.

Ugh!

His fingers brush against mine again, the barest, briefest touch.

"Or." He pauses. "I don’t see the harm in getting to know you." He pauses again. “What’s the worst thing that can happen?”

I huff out a laugh, shaking my head. "Do you really want me to list all the possible ways this could go wrong?"

Luca grins, unfazed, and folds his arms across his broad chest. "Go for it."

I raise a finger. "First, my brother finds out and murders you."

His smile widens. "You’re adorable."

I ignore his compliment. "Second, he murders me .”

“False. I would defend your honor and he wouldn’t get through me. I feel like my odds would be decent.”

I shake my head, feigning exasperation. "Fine. Third reason— this thing, whatever it is, goes south. We end up avoiding each other, making everything unbearably awkward, and ruining any chance of pretending this never happened."

Luca doesn’t even blink. "Counterpoint: what if it doesn’t go south? What if we don’t tell anyone? No pressure, no expectations—just us seeing where this goes without the whole world knowing."

I hesitate. "Are you suggesting we sneak around?"

His smirk returns, slow and deliberate. "I’m suggesting we don’t make a big deal out of it. You’re a big girl—there’s no need to involve your brother."

I stare at him, incredulous. "You cannot seriously think that’s a good idea."

Luca shrugs. "Why not?"

"Uh, because secrets always come out? Because I don’t want to be somebody’s dirty little secret? Take your pick." I cross my arms, too. "If we do get caught, I get to deal with my brother’s wrath and look like an idiot.”

“No one would ever accuse Nova Montagalo of being an idiot.”

I snort. “My brother would. And has. ”

“ He’s the idiot.” Luca exhales through his nose as he gathers his thoughts. "It’s not about hiding you. It’s about keeping other people out of our business—this is our business and no one else’s. You shouldn’t have to deal with—" He gestures vaguely. "Drama.”