by Robin Kaye
He swallowed hard and prayed he didn’t screw this up. “Nicki, we’ve been a family ever since you showed up at Pop’s place. But this paper is special because it proves that I’m your dad, and you’re my little girl.”
She blinked a few times and looked at him, almost as if she didn’t hear him. “For real?”
“It says so right there.”
Nicki shook her head and sat on his duffel hard. “I didn’t know I had a daddy.” She hugged the paper to her chest, and damned if she didn’t start crying.
“I didn’t know I had a daughter.” He looked at Rocki—which was no help, because she was crying too. He picked Nicki up, took a seat on his duffel, and set her on his lap, holding his hand out for Rocki to join them.
“I always wanted a daddy of my very own.”
“That’s good, squirt, because I just realized I always wanted a little girl of my very own too. I’m so lucky you’re mine. I love you, Nicki.”
She looked at him through his mother’s eyes, her lashes thick enough to hold her tears and get all pointy. “Forever and always?”
He had to clear his throat. “Forever and always.” He kissed the top of her head and thanked God she was his.
“What about Rocki? Is she part of our family too?”
“I guess that depends on if she wants us.”
“She must, because she raced like an Indy driver just to get here and talk you into coming home.”
He looked from Nicki to Rocki. “You drove?”
“I’m a good driver.”
Nicki wrapped her arms around his neck to whisper in his ear. “She parked on the sidewalk. If we can’t talk you into coming home with us, I think we should call someone to pick us up. Rocki’s scary when she’s behind the wheel. And I’m not allowed to repeat the things she said.”
“Nicki!” Rocki’s affronted look made him laugh, and that horrible feeling in his chest burst like an overfilled water balloon, filling him with something so warm, so pure, so perfect.
He dragged his wallet from his pocket. “Nicki,” he said, pulling out a twenty, “do me a favor and run and buy us some water and a few candy bars, but stay where I can see you.”
“Are you guys gonna kiss or something?”
“Yeah, probably, so take your time, squirt. Here,” he added, grabbing another ten and handing it to her, “get whatever you want.”
“Cool. So does this mean that Rocki will be my new mom?”
“Let me see if I can talk her into the whole family thing first, okay, squirt?”
“Sure, Daddy, take your time, just don’t screw it up.”
“Nicki—”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll shut up now. But don’t screw it up, okay, Daddy?”
“I’ll try not to.” He threw his arm around Rocki and pulled her onto his lap. “Nothing like a little pressure. I hope you say yes. If not, you’re gonna make me look bad in front of my kid.”
“Well, you’d better not screw it up then.”
“I couldn’t get on the plane. I didn’t even make it past security.”
“Did they stop you?”
“No, I never got that far. I just couldn’t leave you or Nicki. I thought about the contract and realized that there’s nothing more important than you and Nicki. I felt as if I were leaving my heart and soul here. I just couldn’t do it. I know this is really fast. I mean, we’ve known each other less than a month. So I was wondering, how do you feel about long engagements?”
“I guess that depends on how you feel about living in sin. I just don’t sleep well without you anymore. I don’t want to.”
“We’ll have Nicki with us.”
“Of course we will. I love her.”
“So you’re cool with the whole instant parent thing?”
“Are you?”
“More than you’ll ever know. I think I’m really gonna like this daddy business. I wouldn’t mind doing it again to find out what I missed.”
Rocki shot him her sexy smile and raised one eyebrow. “I’m sure that would make Grace and Teddy very happy.”
“Sweetheart, the only people I’m worried about making happy are you and Nicki. Not that I don’t think the world of Grace and Teddy. Hell, even Jackson’s growing on me, but all I care about right now is what you think.”
“I don’t have to think. I know I love you. I’ll spend the rest of my life loving you. I love Nicki too, and would be honored to be her mom. And as for other kids . . . let’s get settled and then we’ll work on that.”
“So, how’d I do?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Huh?” His mouth hung open. He knew it. “Seriously?”
“Asking me how I feel about long engagements does not a proposal make.”
Slater glanced at the milling throng stationed around them. “Sweetheart, do you really want me to propose to you in an airport?”
Rocki’s brow slid into position. Locked, loaded, and devious. “I think if you don’t, you’re going to have to explain the fact that you didn’t to a ten-year-old.”
He looked over and saw Nicki watching them. “Okay.” He supposed if he was going to do this with an audience, he better do it right. He stood, set Rocki on her feet, and assumed the position. Shit, they were attracting a crowd. Some lady was even filming them with her camera. He looked at Rocki and realized that it didn’t matter. “Rocki, I love you more than my own life. Will you marry me, be the mother of my children, and spend the rest of your life with me? Will you be my lover, my wife, my family?”
“On one condition.”
“What’s that? You might want to make it good, since right now, I’ll agree to just about anything to get you to say yes.” His knees were killing him.
“I’ll marry you if you promise to always be mine, to be my lover, my friend, a father to my children, my hero, and never shut me out.”
“I will if you will.”
“Then yes, I’ll marry you.”
He stood, picked her up, and kissed her. Once they came up for air, he noticed the clapping and Nicki jumping beside them. He pulled her into a hug. “How’d I do, squirt?”
“I don’t know. Did you ask her if she’d be my new momma? ’Cause I know I already have one somewhere, but I want a whole family.”
“I’d love to be your new momma, Nicki. I love you like you were my own, anyway.”
Nicki took his hand and grabbed Rocki’s too. “We’re a family then, forever and always?”
Rocki looked at him through her tears and nodded. “Forever and always.”
Slater looked at his girls, picked Nicki up, and pulled Rocki into a hug. “Forever and always. Let’s go home.”
Nicki hugged him tight and whispered in his ear. “You drive, okay, Daddy?”
Rocki handed him the keys, and her eyes widened like dinner plates. “Oh gosh, I hope they haven’t towed Pete’s car.”
Read on for a sneak peek at Robin Kaye’s
Bad Boys of Red Hook novella,
HOMETOWN GIRL
Available now wherever e-books are sold.
“I can’t believe I shaved my legs for Conan the Barbarian,” Elyse Fitzgerald whispered to her friend Ronna. She walked down the sidewalk, trailing well behind her blind date, and was in no hurry to catch up. Elyse not only shaved her legs, but other places—places no woman would ever want to nick. “What’s his name again?”
Ronna shot her a disapproving glare.
“Doug? No, Dan? Damn, that isn’t right either. I know it’s a ‘D’ name.” Elyse snapped her fingers. “Dave!”
The moment she said his name, Dave turned and Elyse had the urge to duck into the alleyway, but then realized he wasn’t turning to look for her; he was pulling the door open to the bar without gentlemanning up to wait for her. The man was a real prize.
A momen
t later, Elyse stepped into the Crow’s Nest—the third bar they’d hit since coming to the Red Hook section of Brooklyn that night. She’d suggested leaving the first two under the guise of finding a decent band whenever Dave became too attentive.
Ronna nudged her shoulder to get her attention. “Dave’s not that bad, and I hear he’s really good in bed. Isn’t that the point of this exercise?”
Elyse shot Ronna a skeptical look, wondering why, if Ronna was such a big fan, she didn’t sleep with him. “Maybe, but I’m just not feelin’ it.”
Ronna tossed her long red hair over her shoulder and pulled her shirt down to maximize her cleavage. “Probably because you won’t let him touch you.”
Just the thought of Dave putting his meaty paws on her had Elyse stifling a shiver. She ripped her eyes away from her blind date du jour to stare at the bartender, who stared right back from across the crowded bar. “No. It couldn’t be. That would be way too it’s-a-small-world-after-all-ish.”
“What are you talking about now?” Ronna hollered over the band and bar chatter.
“The bartender. I think I know him.” Elyse elbowed her way across the crowded space for a closer look to make sure she hadn’t imagined him. Hell, it wouldn’t be the first time she thought she’d spotted her schoolgirl crush during the six years since they’d last met. She stepped up to the bar, and her mouth dropped open as she stared into the fathomless silver-gray eyes of none other than Simon Sprague. Elyse couldn’t believe her luck and was suddenly thrilled she’d shaved in all those places. Carefully.
• • •
Simon Sprague hated full moons—especially on a Saturday night when the bar was packed. Full moons raised high tides, made dogs howl, and caused people to do things they wouldn’t normally do—which was why the Romans had come up with the word lunatic. There was always a marked increase in three things: crime, bar fights, and admissions to emergency rooms.
The bar’s house band, Nite Watch, kicked up the volume as Simon pushed a margarita, no salt, across the bar to the normally shy and quiet blonde auditioning for a place in his bed. The full moon was working its black magic on her, at least. He hadn’t the time, energy, or interest, so he scanned the busy restaurant and bar, keeping an eye out for problems and locking in on the dark-haired, dark-eyed goddess who’d just entered.
He knew her from somewhere. She looked so familiar, but then he was sure he’d never forget a woman with the face of an angel, the body of a centerfold, and the knowing gaze of a courtesan. His fingers itched to sketch her, and the rest of his body went on full alert. His mind spun, trying to figure out their connection, and there was a definite connection between them. He’d make time for a girl like her.
“Simon? Are you okay?”
He blinked and turned to Bree Collins, his boss and good friend. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just thought I saw someone I knew.”
Bree was a looker, a tall, green-eyed redhead with a wicked sense of humor, the biggest heart this side of the Hudson, and a temper that confirmed the redheaded Irish stereotype.
“I have the bar under control if you want to do a fact-finding mission.” She pulled a bottle of Stoli from the well and poured. “Go ahead. I dare you.”
“Simon?”
He turned toward the end of the bar to see the woman he’d been talking about pushing past the blonde.
“I thought that was you. How are you?” she asked.
She must have stepped on the rail to lever herself up, then leaned over the bar and pulled his head close to kiss his cheek.
He sucked in a breath. Her scent was soft, familiar, sexy, and subtle with a spicy kick that didn’t hit until she pulled away, taking half his functioning brain cells with her. He stared, knowing he was supposed to say something but not remembering what it was.
“How are you?” she prodded, as her eyes danced with undisguised mirth, dimples appearing right where he knew they would, which he had the sudden urge to explore with his tongue. Damn, she was gorgeous.
“Simon?”
Shit. He shook his head, praying for his brain to reengage. “I’m great. How are you doing?” He studied each of her features, hoping something would jog his memory and at the same time wondering what the hell was wrong with him that he could even for a second forget this woman’s name. Her mouth, which was a bit too wide for her face, broke into a beautiful smile; her lips quirked up and were full enough to make a man lose sleep wondering what she could do with them; and then those dimples appeared again.
“I’m good. Finishing up my master’s at Pratt, looking for a job . . .”
She let that hang there and he couldn’t help but think that whoever the beautiful woman was, she was looking for more than a job. Whatever else she was in the market for, he hoped he fit the bill.
“What field?”
“I have my BS in construction management and I’m finishing up my master’s in regional and city planning.”
“Wow. That’s impressive.”
“It’s Pratt, not Princeton.”
She knew he’d gone to Princeton. A clue as to how he knew her, but damned if he could figure it out. “You should talk to my friend Bree over there.” He nodded to the bar manager. “She’s on Red Hook’s Revitalization Committee. I’m sure you’ll have a lot in common.” And maybe she’d introduce herself and he’d figure out how the hell he knew her. “Have a seat and tell me what I can get you.”
“I’ll take a Sixpoint Sweet Action, but I can’t stay. I’m kind of with someone.”
Simon put an iced mug under the tap and poured, thrilled that she was a beer girl and not into froufrou martinis. “Someone?” All the hot, sweaty visions he had of getting properly reacquainted with her went up in smoke.
Just then a big guy came from behind and wrapped his paws around her waist, pulling her against him. “Babe, we snagged a table close to the band just for you.”
Damn, Simon knew this guy—he was a weekend warrior, the kind who drank too much and talked too loud. And on a full-moon Saturday night, that spelled trouble with a capital T.
Something clicked, something about her—damn, it was right there, yet he couldn’t reach it.
The blockhead looked from Simon to the goddess and back, shooting him a warning that failed miserably.
She pushed away and looked at him over her shoulder. “I’m just getting my drink—I’ll be there in a minute, Dave.”
Dave released her and speared Simon with another look before sauntering away.
Simon gave the bar a cursory wipe. “Dave, huh?”
• • •
Elyse levered herself up against the bar and leaned forward as if drawn by the strong pull of attraction like metal to a magnet—invisible yet powerful. “What’s that line from Casablanca? ‘Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she had to walk into mine.’ But in my case, I walked into yours.” She couldn’t decide if that was good or bad.
“Let’s hope this meeting has a happier ending. If I recall in the movie the girl left Bogey standing alone on a runway as she took off with her . . . date.” He looked in the direction Dave had gone. Simon seemed more put out about her date than he did about her presence, which in and of itself was reason enough to alert the media. He looked at her the way she’d spent most of her life wishing he would.
Elyse shook her head. Maybe she’d had too much to drink. Every time Dave spoke to her, she’d taken another sip of beer—her way to keep from having to make yet another excuse not to go back to his place for a little mattress mambo.
She took a draw of beer and watched Simon over the rim of her mug. It had been a long time since she’d seen him—probably since her and his sister Melissa’s high school graduation six years ago—but then only from a distance.
She and Mel had been best friends since kindergarten, and she cringed when she remembered some of the stunts they had pulled o
n Simon until their freshman year of high school when he left for Princeton. It was no wonder he called her Trouble—her half of the dynamic duo he dubbed Double Trouble. Her face heated as memories of her most embarrassing moment flooded her partially inebriated brain—the day she followed Simon, like a lovesick puppy, into the bathroom. Before she realized where they were, he’d had to ask her to leave. God, she’d been the biggest dork, not to mention pest.
Looking at Simon now, she had to admit she’d always had great taste in men. Simon was tall. She topped out at five-foot-six, and he still had eight or nine inches on her. He had her definition of the perfect body—commanding height, broad shoulders, thin waist, lean but muscular—more Iron Man than Thor. His dark, thick hair was cut short on the sides and longer on top, making her fingers itch to see if it was as thick as she remembered. His deep-set silver eyes and high cheekbones made his face look like something Michelangelo should have created, not Bitsy and Ralph Sprague.
Elyse had always wondered if he’d been adopted, and looking at him now—all filled out in glorious manhood—she still did. But then his sister, Mel, was beautiful too.
Melissa was the kind of girl Elyse didn’t want to introduce to her dates. Not that Mel would even look twice at them, but she couldn’t help the second, third, and fourth looks every straight man in the vicinity gave Melissa. The same could be said for Simon and the female population. The only female not staring at him was the other bartender.
Elyse’s friend Ronna sidled up to her. “Dave’s pissed and he’s drinking like a fish. You’d better get over there. He’s already looking for greener pastures, if you know what I’m sayin’. I think he likes the cocktail server.”
“Good.” Elyse set her half-empty beer on the cardboard coaster. “Ronna, I know you went to a lot of trouble setting us up, but Dave’s not my type.” She didn’t spare Ronna a glance; she was too busy drinking in Simon’s profile and checking out the way his khakis hugged his tush.
“And you think the hot bartender is?”
“You don’t?”
