Back to You: Bad Boys of Red Hook

by Robin Kaye

  “Would you stop asking me that? Damn, you’d think I have one foot in the grave. I’m fine.”

  Storm put his arm around Nicki, who seemed to shrink into herself. “It’s okay, Nicki. Why don’t you wash up? Bree will be here in a minute.” Storm waited until he heard the bathroom door close. “Give it a break, Pop. You look like shit.”

  “Yeah, well, what the hell do you expect? I just got out of the hospital. You look like shit too, and all you have to complain about is missing a good night’s sleep.”

  Storm held on to the end of the table and bent to eye level. “I don’t know what crawled up your ass today, but you’d better cut it out. You’re scaring Nicki, and so help me, if you do anything to screw up what Bree and I have going, I’ll kill you myself.”

  Pop raised an eyebrow and looked pleased.

  “Are you pulling that reverse-psychology crap again? It didn’t work when I was a kid. It’s not going to work now.”

  “Really? It seems to be working just fine. But if you want to keep Bree, you had better tell her things have changed.”

  “I don’t want to scare her away. Hell, I’ve been home less than a week. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

  “No, but it burned in one. She still thinks you’re going to leave as soon as you can.”

  Storm shrugged and went into the kitchen to check on the salmon; he had to step over D.O.G., who was sprawled out on the linoleum floor, in the way of everything. Storm was stirring the rice when Bree came into the kitchen looking a little pale, and skirted the dog. He gave Bree a quick kiss. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  The flat tone of her voice had Storm doing a double take.

  “What can I do to help?”

  He shrugged, hoping he was imagining things, and handed her the pot of rice. “Just put this in a bowl. I have everything else covered.” He took the asparagus out of the microwave and tossed it on the platter next to the salmon. It wasn’t pretty, but it was definitely edible.

  Bree stared at him, holding the spoon. She looked as if she were a million miles away.

  “Do you need some help with that?”

  “What?” She looked at her hand as if she’d never seen a spoon before. “Oh no. It’s fine.”

  Something was definitely up. He took everything out to the table and served Pop and Nicki—who wore identical faces of discontent.

  Nicki took her fork and pushed a piece of fish away. “What is it?”

  Storm laughed. “If you’d helped with dinner, you’d know. It’s salmon.”

  “It’s fish?”

  Bree brought the rice to the table, and Storm held her chair for her. “Yes, Nicki. Salmon is fish.”

  “I don’t like fish. Neither does Pop.”

  Bree scooped some rice onto her plate and then served Nicki before handing it to Pop. “Lox is fish, and you like that.”

  It was obviously news to Nicki.

  “Take an adventure bite. You know the rules.”

  Storm shot Bree a sideways glance. “An adventure bite?”

  “Yes, everyone has to taste everything on their plate. They don’t have to eat it, but they do have to try it.” She shot Pop a pointed look. “Isn’t that right, Pete?”

  Pop made a good show of it for Nicki’s benefit and took a bite of salmon. He chewed and seemed pleasantly surprised. “It’s not half bad, Storm. What did you say you put on it?”

  “Maple syrup, ginger, garlic, and soy sauce.”

  Bree dug in and made all the appropriate noises. “It’s great. Thanks for cooking.” She looked from him to Nicki. “Nicki?”

  “Bree, I’ve tried fish. I don’t like it.”

  “You haven’t tried Storm’s fish, so you might as well get it over with.”

  Storm held back a laugh. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” He knocked Bree’s knee with his, and she just about jumped out of the chair. Good thing Nicki was working so hard avoiding the fish; she didn’t notice, but Pop did.

  Bree’s gaze darted from him to Nicki and back again. Storm couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on.

  Nicki finally tasted her food and said it wasn’t terrible. Which was good enough apparently for her to take seconds. Bree didn’t eat much; she was more interested in moving her food around.

  When dinner was finished, he cleared the table and took Bree by the hand. “Come on, we’re going for a walk.”

  “You go ahead.” Bree dug in her heels. “Nicki needs a bath, and I need to do the dishes.”

  “Nicki.” He stared at Bree. “Bree and I are going to take D.O.G. for a walk. You hit the shower.”

  “But I want to watch TV.”

  Storm didn’t break the connection. “After you take a shower, you can watch TV. We’ll be back in a little while, and I’ll take care of the dishes.” He picked up D.O.G.’s leash, and the dog sprang to life, causing Bree to jump. “He’s not gonna hurt you. He just likes our walks. You will too; you’ll see.”

  Bree didn’t look like she was buying it.

  Storm got the puppy down the stairs without breaking his own neck and waited for Bree to join them. He pressed her against the wall, kissed her within an inch of her life, and then rested his forehead on hers. “Now, do you want to tell me what’s going on with you and Pop?”

  “Nothing I can talk about, so please, let’s just drop it.” She moved to kiss him again, but he pulled away and led her and D.O.G. out the door, keeping her hand in his as he scanned the block.

  “If something is bothering you, Breezy, I’m the one person you should always be able to talk to. About anything. That’s part of the deal.”

  Bree stopped to look in the window of a new art gallery and watched his reflection in the glass while D.O.G. sniffed the telephone pole. “What deal?”

  Storm pulled her against him and looked into those bright green eyes of hers, the ones he’d dreamed about for the last decade. “Bree, we’re together. When you’re involved with someone, you share things, or at least you’re supposed to.”

  “Do you share things with your other girlfriends?”

  “I don’t have other girlfriends.”

  Bree laughed. “You mean to tell me you don’t have a flock of women you’re dating in New Zealand? Come on, you’ve been here less than a week, and after one night at the bar, they were following your every move.”

  “Jealous?”

  “No, just observant.”

  Storm gnashed his teeth and did his best not to lose his temper. “Okay, if this wasn’t made clear last night, we’d better correct the situation. We’re together—”

  “For now.”

  “For however long we’re together, there will be no other girlfriends or boyfriends, no other lovers, period. You’re mine and I’m yours and that’s the end of it. Agreed?”

  “That’s hardly a problem for me.”

  She might as well have said, “But it’s a problem for you.” It wasn’t, but he didn’t think Bree would believe him. He didn’t mention he’d heard that guy Jack asking her out earlier, or the way he felt about her “I’m seeing someone right now” answer. In Bree’s mind he was temporary, and that didn’t set well with him.

  Maybe she needed time. Time to see how good they were together. Time to learn to trust him. Time to get used to being a couple—not that he knew the first thing about being a couple. He’d never been part of anything, but if there was one person he’d like to figure it out with, it was Breezy. After seeing the way Pop looked when he returned to the apartment, the one thing Storm could count on was that he would be in Red Hook for a while. He just hoped it was long enough.

  They walked in awkward silence for a few blocks until D.O.G. wrapped them in his leash. Storm had never been so grateful for the mutt’s lack of training. He took Bree’s hand to help her out of the quagmire, and he thought it was a good sign when she didn’t drop his hand after they were free of the leash.

  Breezy took him on a tour of the neighborhood, showing him th
e new restaurants and stores that had opened up in the time she’d been on the Revitalization Committee; talking about the owners, the menus, and the artists, who seemed to be turning Van Brunt into Gallery Row; and introducing him to everyone she knew—almost everyone they met. They strolled toward the Fairway, the evening wind whipping her hair around as they passed the market and walked out onto one of the piers where more artisans set up shop.

  The sun was going down and there were still people milling about. That was something that didn’t happen when he last lived there. People used to think twice about walking in broad daylight—dusk or night was out of the question.

  Seeing this part of Red Hook with Breezy, Storm hardly recognized the place he’d spent much of his youth in. He hardly recognized the girl he’d known in the vibrant, beautiful, self-assured woman she’d become. He hardly recognized the man he was when he was with her. With her, he wanted to be that man. The man she wanted. Her man.

  They stopped and shared a piece of cannoli cake at the Fairway’s outdoor café and talked about the Revitalization Committee’s plan for Red Hook. They bought a water for D.O.G., who had yet to master drinking from an open cup, and got more water on Storm than he drank, and relaxed.

  When the place started emptying out, Bree picked up their trash and stepped over a lazy D.O.G. She was starting to get more comfortable with the mutt. “What now?”

  “We go home.” Storm wrapped his arm around Bree’s waist before giving D.O.G.’s leash a tug. “This is nice.” He leaned in and stole a kiss.

  Bree’s hand was on his chest, and she smiled up at him. “It is. We haven’t had one argument.”

  But she still hadn’t told him what was the matter, and whatever it was, he could still sense her tension. Storm didn’t think it was the dog.

  “Did you get a lot of work done today?”

  “Not as much as I would have liked. I did get the plans sent to the boat builder for a new Class 40. When I get back, I need to call the office and have Sandy e-mail me a few contracts. I have to plan my work schedule since I’ll be doing it from here instead of my office.”

  “Is that manageable?”

  “I miss my drafting table and my desktop computer, but I can work from just about anywhere. It’s a good thing. This is a busy time for me.”

  “I thought the winter months would be slow.”

  “Oh no, this is when everyone is planning and building the boats they want to race during the summer. At least in Australia and New Zealand, which are about sixty percent of my business.”

  “And the rest?”

  “Thirty percent European and ten American.”

  “You build boats in the United States?”

  “No, we build them in Auckland, do the sea trials there, and then ship them over on a freighter. With the New Zealand dollar, it’s still cheaper than building them here. It’s handy; sometimes I have to go to the boat builder if there’s trouble.” They went inside and up the steps. Bree turned to go to her place. “You’re not coming in?”

  “I wasn’t planning on it, why?”

  Was she serious? Damn, he’d spent the entire day reliving every moment they’d spent together—every kiss, every touch, every look. “You weren’t planning on staying with me tonight?”

  “You were?” She even looked shocked.

  “Hell yes, I’ve been waiting all day to get you alone again.” He dropped the dog’s leash and pulled her into his arms.

  She was tense and stiff for a second and then relaxed.

  He brushed the hair from her face. She was holding something back, but he didn’t have a clue as to what it was. He’d hoped to weasel it out of her in bed after she was satisfied and sleepy. “So, what’s it gonna be, your place or mine?”

  “What about Pete and Nicki? Someone needs to be there in case something happens, and we can’t sleep together with them right there.”

  “We’re adults, Breezy, and Pop knows we’re together.”

  “Nicki doesn’t.”

  Storm figured Nicki knew a hell of a lot more than Bree suspected, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. “We’ll make sure we get up before Nicki does, and you’ll have to be a little quieter. Not that I don’t enjoy hearing you scream, but I wouldn’t want to be the one to explain that to Nicki.” Bree blushed so fiercely, he laughed. “Don’t worry. We’ll sneak off to your place every now and then, and I promise to make you scream as much as you’d like.” God, he loved that a twenty-eight-year-old woman could still blush like a schoolgirl. Making Breezy blush was his second-favorite thing to do. He tipped her chin so she couldn’t avoid his gaze and put all kidding aside. “I just want to make love to you and hold you all night long. Stay with me from now on.”

  Her eyes widened, and she thought about it long enough to make him sweat. “Yes.” Then she kissed him, and he was lost.

  CHAPTER 17

  Bree escaped Storm, telling him to text her after Nicki went to bed. She stood in the shower and let the hot water run over her head while she tried to wrap her mind around everything that had happened: Daniel calling her a whore and telling her the only reason she got on the Revitalization Committee was because of him; Pete telling her Storm’s history and that he could be Nicki’s father; Storm acting like this thing between them was more than a fling and her heart agreeing with him. Next came the thought of Storm leaving her, leaving Nicki—Bree’s heart ached from one virtual body blow after another. Okay, so Storm hadn’t dealt her a blow—but as wonderful as he seemed, she couldn’t help but wait for it. Telling herself to live, enjoy Storm while he was here, and not worry about their future was a hell of a lot easier in theory than in practice.

  Was it really possible? Could Storm be Nicki’s father? Had Storm slept with Marisa instead of her eleven years ago? She’d spent the entire dinner looking for a family resemblance between Storm and Nicki and found none. Still, Bree was the spitting image of her mother and had looked nothing like her dad. There was no resemblance except in personality, but she and her dad had a special connection. Nicki had taken to Storm right away.

  She rested her head against the cool tile wall, letting the hot water soothe the aching muscles in her neck and shoulders while visions of Storm, Nicki, and her as a family floated through her mind. She loved them both and didn’t want to lose either of them; yet she felt them slipping away. If Nicki was Storm’s, they would be a family, and, as usual, Bree would be outside looking in, not really a part of anything, not fitting in, not enough.

  The shower curtain was yanked open, and Bree gasped, spinning around to see Storm grinning at her. She covered herself, or tried to. The fluorescent lighting wasn’t doing her any favors. Her wet hair lay in stringy clumps around her shoulders, and if any makeup was still on her face, it was running like a racehorse down her cheeks.

  “Hey, is there room in there for one more?” Storm’s gaze traveled from head to toe and back again; then the corner of his mouth quirked up. “I could spend a lifetime looking at you. You’re so beautiful.”

  The man was clearly insane. Bree knew what she looked like. She wouldn’t scare small children, but she was hardly beauty-queen material. But that knowledge didn’t seem to matter. The heat in Storm’s eyes had all systems firing; with one look he took her to that dangerous place she’d been trying to avoid. One look and he had her body and her heart welcoming him.

  He was already pulling his T-shirt over his head and kicking out of his Top-Siders.

  The air-conditioning chilled her overheated skin, goose bumps covered every square inch of her body, and she shook as she watched him lose his pants.

  He was tan, ripped, and hard—everywhere. “Are you going to answer the question?”

  She had no idea what he was talking about. What question? But no words came out of her mouth.

  “Can I come in?”

  She still stared.

  “In the shower, can I join you?”

  “Oh,” she said, running her hand over her wet face in the hope of wiping
away any residual mascara, wiping away the tears, and wiping away the signs of her tumultuous emotions. She stepped back under the shower spray. “Of course.”

  When Storm stepped into the shower, the oversized tub she’d loved so much shrank. She’d never showered with anyone before. He drew her to him and kissed her before pulling back and looking into her eyes. He nudged her back under the water and ran his hands through her hair before pulling her out of the spray and depositing a dollop of shampoo on her head. He stilled her hands, turned her around, and lathered her hair, massaging her scalp. “Have you gotten everything figured out? You were in here for fifteen minutes before I came in. Are you okay, Breezy? I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

  She pressed her palm against the cold tile. “It’s just…nothing and everything.” She puffed her cheeks out and released a slow I’m-at-the-end-of-my-soap-on-a-rope breath.

  He looked her up and down. “Shit, what’s this?” He wrapped his hand around her forearm and pulled it toward him, staring at the bruise.

  She’d forgotten all about it. “It’s nothing.”

  “That’s a handprint-shaped bruise, Breezy. It’s definitely not nothing. Did Dickerbocker do this?”

  “Yes, and I handled it. I told you.”

  “You didn’t say he hurt you. I asked, remember?”

  “I said I handled it. Please, let’s just change the subject.”

  “Are there any other subjects we’re not supposed to talk about? If there are, I’d better make a list.”

  “No, dammit. Storm, in the last week I’ve had the rug pulled out from under me more than a few times—with you, Pete, the Revitalization Committee and Daniel, not to mention D.O.G. I’m trying to get a grip and not doing a very good job of it.”

  “How can I help?”

  “You can’t.” The words came out as a defeated sigh. “But thanks for asking. It’s something I have to deal with on my own. There’s so much that’s up in the air, I’m sure after the zoning meeting, things will settle down on that front at least.”