Back to You: Bad Boys of Red Hook (7 page)

“Well, sh—” Nicki clasped her hand over her mouth and stared at him with wide eyes. “Shoot.” She wiped her now milk-and-peanut-butter-covered palm on the monkey face covering the front of her shirt.

“What did you want the dough for?”

“Nothin’.” Nicki bit her lip.

“Okay.” He spun the chair back to face his computer and scrolled through his e-mail, searching for anything that couldn’t wait while Nicki chewed her lip and ground her heel farther into the carpet.

He’d just about given up on the girl when she threw herself on Bree’s unmade bed, her too-big feet swinging back and forth over her butt like a pendulum, and let out a long-suffering sigh. “Do you like kids?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He’d been watching her in his peripheral vision; he turned his gaze toward her. “I don’t know many of them. What’s that got to do with money?”

“You got a lot of money?”

“I get by.”

“You’re probably the richest guy in Red Hook. At least you look like you are.”

“There’s not much competition in Red Hook, or there never used to be, but I’ve been away a long time.”

“Yeah, like for my whole life. How come?”

“Not your whole life. I came back five or six years ago to see Pete. But I live on the other side of the world. Do you know where New Zealand is?”

“Not really.”

He waved her over, and she rolled off the bed and stepped beside him. He pulled up Google Earth and programmed a flight from Red Hook to Auckland—if only it were really that simple or that cheap. He sat back and watched the wonder flit across Nicki’s face.

“Wow, that’s way far.”

“You can’t get much farther.” He didn’t mention that for too many years he couldn’t afford to come back. He’d saved every cent so he could to fly back and see Pete, Logan, and Slater the few times he had. He’d found out Breezy had come home after college, and he hadn’t been back since. If he could have avoided this trip, he would have. “It’s not an easy trip to make. You have to fly from Auckland to LA, and then LA to New York, but you used to have to fly from Auckland to Hawaii, Hawaii to LA, and then to New York, so it’s gotten easier.”

“Wow, you’ve been to Hawaii too?”

“I’ve been just about everywhere, kid.” He’d searched the world for a place that felt like home. He’d never found it. Auckland was fine—it was where he lived and worked, but deep down he knew it wasn’t home. It never would be.

 * * *

“Where is she?” Bree asked Rocki when she noticed Nicki wasn’t at her designated table. Bree turned off the PBS station she kept on when no customers were around.

“I saw her sneak out the back through the kitchen. Maybe she’s in the alley, or she could have gone up to the apartment.” Rocki shrugged it off, as if having a ten-year-old playing in a dirty alley was no big deal. But Nicki was Bree’s responsibility, not Rocki’s.

Rocki stood on the stilts she called shoes. “I thought she was just going over to beg sweets from Rex. You
know your chef, for as tough as he is, he has a soft spot for Nicki.”

“Ask him to check the alley. I’ll just run upstairs. Be right back.”

Bree took the stairs two at a time, cursing herself for being stupid enough to give Nicki her own key. She banged into the apartment. “Nicki, are you up here?”

“Yeah, she is.” Storm appeared in the doorway to her room, holding Nicki’s still-bony shoulders.

Relief vied with anger. “What the heck are you doing in my room?”

“Trying to work.”

Nicki bounced on her heels. “I told him you’d be mad.” She ran to Bree and grabbed her hand, tugging her toward the bedroom and bouncing more than Tigger. “You gotta see this cool program on Storm’s computer. We flew all the way to New Zealand.” She pulled Bree into the last place she wanted to be—her bedroom, hell, any bedroom with Storm. “Storm’s been to Hawaii. Do you believe it?” Nicki pointed to the computer that took up most of the desk.

The desk where her computer and lingerie had been.

“Look, Bree. This is so cool. Storm, show her. Fly to New Zealand again.”

“You couldn’t find anywhere else to set up your computer?”

“Not with a router.” The left corner of his mouth tipped up. “Sorry.”

He looked anything but.

“I just shut down your computer and moved your stuff.” Storm raised an eyebrow and smirked as he eyed her pile of bras and panties.

“Pervert,” she mouthed over Nicki’s head.

“No, if I were, I’d be wearing or collecting them. I just pictured you wearing them. That’s just a healthy-guy thing.”

Oblivious to their grown-up exchange, Nicki tugged on Storm’s hand. “Show Bree. Do it again. Please, Storm.”

“Okay.” He sat in Bree’s chair as if he owned the place. But then Storm had always looked as if he owned whatever space he took up. Damn him. He’d always had that indefinable quality that made people step aside when he walked into any room, but not in fear. Storm Decker just moved within an impenetrable bubble. She was certain if he stood before the Red Sea, God would come down and part the waters. He was just that kind of man. She’d spent her life watching other men, waiting to find anyone with that ability. She never had. Maybe she needed to get out more.

Storm clicked a few buttons, and the planet Earth took up the big screen. The United States was outlined on the globe; then it rolled across to the Pacific and down to the tiny-looking islands that made up New Zealand.

“Isn’t that cool?” Nicki bounced beside Storm.

He glanced at Nicki and grinned—his face as bright as morning sunshine. He typed in an address, and a harbor with a boatyard and docks filled the screen.

“Your home?” Bree had always wondered where he lived. The high-rises beside the harbor with million-dollar views would suit him. All she knew was that they must cost a pretty penny.

“My office. Here’s the view from my desk.” He clicked on something else, and a photo filled the screen with a breathtaking view of hundreds of sailboats filling slips, others sailing, and a beautiful bridge in the distance.

“Not too shabby. It’s a wonder you get any work done at all.” It was a far cry from Red Hook; even now, as much as Red Hook had improved, the two places were in different hemispheres—literally and figuratively. No wonder he couldn’t wait to get back and be able to look at that view every morning when he went to work. She couldn’t imagine living in a place so beautiful, so perfect. “You’ve really made something of yourself. You must be proud.”

Storm did his one-shoulder shrug she’d seen since the first day she’d met him. The man never could take a compliment.

“Did you build all those boats, Storm? Pop says you draw them and then somebody else builds them.”

He opened up another file. “Here are some of the boats I’ve designed.” A slide show of 3-D graphics of hulls flew across the screen. She didn’t really know what she was looking at, so she looked at Storm instead. “Impressive,” Bree murmured.

“Awesome. You made all those boats?” Nicki whispered.

“I designed them and worked with the boat builders, but I’m not the one building them.”

“You must be really good at drawing then, huh?”

“Most of the drawing is done on the computer, but yeah, I hold my own with a pencil. I like to sketch ideas before I draw them on the computer and see if they’ll work.”

“Will you teach me how to do that?”

Storm’s eyebrows rose, and he speared Bree with a look as if he were asking permission or direction tinged with a healthy dose of fear. Fear of what? Was he afraid of spending time with Nicki, or was he afraid that she’d say no?

Bree put her hand on her hip and tugged on Nicki’s ponytail. Nicki’s eyes met Bree’s as she leaned into Storm. “You left your sketch pad and markers in the restaurant when you disappeared—which is against the rules. You need to tell me where you’re going. I freaked when I came out of the office and saw you were missing.”

“You were on the phone, and Miss Rocki was playing the piano. You know how she gets when she’s playing.”

“Then you wait for me to get off the phone; you just don’t take off.”

Nicki looked down at her shoes. “Sorry, Bree.”

“Okay. Just don’t do it again. I’ve got to get back downstairs, and I’m sure Storm has work he needs to get done. Maybe you two can schedule a lesson over dinner.”

“Aw, Bree. Can’t I just bring my markers and paper up here now?”

“No. Miss Patrice is coming to pick you up for a playdate in a little while. She’s going to take you and her girls to the park. You wouldn’t want to miss that, would you?”

“I guess not.” Nicki didn’t look so sure as she dragged her feet all the way out of Bree’s bedroom.

Bree turned back to Storm. “We have wireless, so there’s really no need to work in my room.”

“I didn’t have the password, and this is a more secure connection—especially while I’m downloading files.” Storm smirked at her again. “I promise not to disturb your stuff. Besides, after Pete comes home, you’ll be moving back to your place, right?”

She hadn’t thought that far ahead. For her, the last few weeks had been a one-day-at-a-time kind of thing, but she couldn’t imagine leaving Pete and Nicki with only Storm to take care of them. What if Nicki had nightmares?
What if Pete needed her? “You could go stay at my place if you want.”

Storm stood and moved closer to her, filling the small room with his presence. She was tempted to step back, but she didn’t. She craned her neck to look him in the eye. If she took a deep breath, her chest would hit his. Damn him.

“Why did you ask for help if you were just going to refuse it? Why the hell did I drag my ass halfway around the world to come here?”

“I don’t know. Why did you? You’re just going to take off again.” Bree turned and stepped toward the door—the door he shut before she got there.

He practically vibrated with what looked like barely contained anger. The closer he came, the bigger he seemed. “What the hell do you want, Breezy?” He breathed into her ear. “An apology for something that happened eleven years ago?”

“I want nothing from you.” She meant that to sound indignant; instead, it came out sounding breathless. She couldn’t think when he was this close. She stepped back and hit the door.

Storm slammed a hand against the doorframe, trapping her. “That’s too bad, Breezy, because I want a hell of a lot from you.” His mouth came down on hers, but she wouldn’t call it a kiss—not like any kiss she’d ever had. It was more like a war. She wasn’t sure whether he was fighting her, himself, or whatever this thing was between them.

He shuddered beneath her hands, against her body. His thigh slid between hers as he dragged her closer and pressed her back against the door. Passion—hot and furious—exploded between them. And God help her,
she dug her nails into his shoulders, and held on, taking, giving, melting and inciting him, wanting more.

A knock sounded. “Bree, Patrice is here. Are you coming?”

Storm dragged in a breath close to her ear. “Not yet, but you’re close.”

She wanted nothing more than to kick him right in the balls—she would have too if her legs hadn’t been wrapped around his waist.

 * * *

The look on Breezy’s face was the only thing keeping Storm from laughing. She looked pissed enough to do bodily harm, but since he was holding her up, she didn’t dare, and he was in no mood to unhand her ass. Damn, she felt so good against him, he’d almost come in his pants.

“Be right there, Nicki. Grab your backpack on the counter.” She stabbed him with those ice-cold green eyes. “Let me down.”

“We’re not finished.”

“We were finished eleven years ago when you ran out the door. Naked.”

“That was then; this is now. I’m not the one running, Breezy. If anyone is running, it’s you.” He slid her down his thigh, pissing her off even more, “Go see Nicki off, and then we’re going to talk.”

She put her hand on the doorknob and turned back to him. “I have a bar and restaurant to run, I don’t have time to talk, and I don’t take orders from you.” She sashayed out, slamming the door behind her.

She might not want to talk to him, but she would. He would hound her every step until she cried uncle and they figured out how to work together. Hell, he wasn’t
even sure whether she was pissed because he’d left or because he’d come back. With his luck, it was both.

Another minute and they’d have been ripping each other’s clothes off. He sat on the edge of her bed. He’d heard of makeup sex, but never fight sex, and damn if it wasn’t the single most spectacular make-out session he’d ever had, and he hadn’t even gotten her out of one piece of clothing. He couldn’t imagine how hot it would be when he did.

 * * *

Bree made sure Nicki was buckled into the back of the Jeep and did her best to avoid Patrice’s questions. Of course, Storm was all anyone wanted to talk about. That went for Nicki, Rocki, Patrice, and from what Patrice said, even Francis.

Patrice flipped her newly relaxed, sexy blond-highlighted long hair over her shoulder, making her look even more like Beyoncé, and shot Bree one of her knowing looks. “That’s okay; I was able to get a sitter for tonight, so Francis and I will be back later. We’ll just keep Nicki with our two and drop her off with you tomorrow. This way you’ll get a break, and I’ll get all the information I want straight from the horse’s mouth.”

“Horse’s ass is more like it. Besides, there’s nothing to say.” What was it with people? It was as if they’d never seen a man before.

Patrice got behind the wheel and started the car. After Bree waved to Nicki, she ran into the bar.

Leaving the bar in the not-so-capable hands of Rocki was usually a disaster. But Bree would have gladly spent the rest of the night picking up after Rocki not to have to deal with what—make that who—she found there.

Storm poured a drink as though he knew what he
was doing. He smiled at something the customer said. His eyes never left her face, which, even Bree had to admit, was amazing, considering the woman was almost climbing over the bar to give him a cleavage shot. He took the twenty she handed him and turned back to the register.

Bree hurried behind the bar and pulled the bill out of his hand. “What’d she have?”