Bad Boys of Red Hook [2] You're the One (29 page)

Logan grabbed his bag and headed to the other end of the house. He stepped into the first guest room, closed and locked the door, then shook the handle for good measure and considered using the dresser as a barricade. Taking a deep breath, he hit speed dial and called Skye.

“What happened?”

Thank God she answered. He hadn’t exactly said good-bye and didn’t say he loved her because he didn’t want Payton to know who he was talking to. The fact that Skye answered on the first ring meant she was either worried or pissed. Either way, playing it straight was his only option. “Payton hasn’t told anyone about the breakup. She’s decided to take me back.” There was silence on the end of the line and his stomach dropped. “Sugar, are you there?”

“I’m here.” Her voice sounded distant and empty. He broke out into a cold sweat and remembered the bleak look on her face when he left. That desperate gnawing started in the pit of his stomach, the one he used to get whenever the social worker showed up. It had always meant the end was near and disaster was barreling toward him at warp speed.

“I told her I wasn’t interested.”

“Okay.”

“I warned her about the meeting I have tomorrow morning with her father. I’ll tell him about our breakup then if she doesn’t get off her ass and do it first.”

“Payton left?”

“I doubt it. I took my bags and locked myself in the guest room.”

“You’re staying with her?”

“No. I’m staying in the guest room and talking to you.” He sat on the edge of the king-sized bed and stared into the empty fireplace wishing she wasn’t on the other side of the country, wishing he could hold her, and have her hold him. “It’s just you and me, sugar. Now, where were we?”

He heard her breath catch and then a quick sniffle—damn, he’d made her cry again. That was going to stop right now. He forced his face into a smile, hoping it would reach his voice. “Oh, right. I remember. You were just about to tell me what you’re wearing.”

*   *   *

Skye looked over her kitchen. She had three line cooks running like mad, her chef de cuisine was backed up, and one prep cook worked on dinner—and Rocki was in everyone’s way. “What do you want, Rocki? And what can I do to get you to leave?”

“You can agree to have a drink with me and Patrice.”

“That’s so not happening.” Skye grabbed Rocki’s arm and dragged her out of the kitchen and into her office. “I’m never drinking with you two again.”

Rocki crossed her arms, snapped her gum, and tapped the pointed toe of the hooker heels she wore. She was dressed as a hotter, prettier version of the Wicked Witch of the West—minus the green face paint. Okay, she had green eye shadow, so it was close enough. Maybe Rocki
was trying out her Halloween costume a little early. Still, the girl could pull just about anything off.

In flats, Rocki stood eight or nine inches taller than Skye; with her heels today, Rocki had a good foot on her. “Look, I have to deal with tall people all the time—you glaring at me from on high is not going to sway me. I’m having a bad day. I’m not the kind of company you’re looking for.”

Rocki rolled her eyes, threw herself into the chair opposite Skye’s desk, and tossed her black-and-white-striped-legging-covered leg over the arm of her chair. “We’re not doing this for us, Skye. We’re your best friends and we’re doing this for you. We know you’re going through Logan withdrawal and we thought we could help.”

Skye collapsed on her desk chair hoping a house would land on Rocki, and tugged on her neck to relieve the stress that was crawling up her spine toward her aching head. After the sleepless night she’d had, she doubted anything would help—except if maybe Logan came home, and it didn’t sound as if that was going to happen.

She learned a little too late that phone sex only made her miss Logan even more than she had already and made her hornier than she’d ever been before.

Rocki preened into a compact mirror, spiking her blond hair, and then fixed her bright red lipstick. She looked over the top of the compact at Skye and smiled. “You can drink a Coke if you want. We promise not to serve you any alcohol ever again.” She frowned for a second and then waved her hand. Her nails were painted a fluorescent green to match her eye shadow. Skye didn’t know anyone could pull that off, but Rocki somehow made it work. “Sorry about getting you drunk by the way. We had no idea what a lightweight you are.”

“Okay, I’ll join you in a while. Just let me get through this lunch rush. I’ll be out as soon as I can.”

Rocki tilted her head and stared at her. “He really loves you, you know. It’s been written all over his face since the first day you walked in here. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“Right.” She just shook her head and went back to the kitchen. If she started to think about Logan sharing a house with Perfect Payton, she’d make herself sick. They didn’t know Payton the way she did, and they didn’t know that Payton was still living in Logan’s house—or was it technically Payton’s house? She really didn’t know. She pulled the bill of her baseball cap down, walked into the kitchen, and checked the computer screen. “I need an allergy carry.” She took the dish for the person with an onion allergy, wiped the rim with her towel, and drizzled hollandaise sauce over the lobster omelet, and tossed some parsley on it. “Where are those potatoes for the onion allergy?”

“Right here.” Harrison slid them onto the shelf separating the front of the kitchen from the stoves.

She took the plate and eyed her sous chef. “You followed them?”

“I made them myself. No onions. Promise.”

She hated stepping out of the kitchen when she was supposed to be in charge. Following this dish had been her job—a job she’d handed over to Harrison while she took a get-rid-of-Rocki break. “Thanks, Harrison.”

She turned and grabbed Wendy. “I have an allergy carry to table ten. Can you take it out?”

“Sure.” Wendy placed a cloth napkin on her arm and set the dish on it before giving Skye a once-over. “You hanging in there, Skye?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because Logan’s gone and you look as if you didn’t get any sleep.” She tilted her head and then patted Skye’s arm with her free hand. “When Jeff left me, it took a good week before I could sleep without him. It’ll get easier in a few days.”

God, did everyone know she and Logan were sleeping together? Dumb question, obviously. “Wendy, Logan didn’t leave. He went out of town on business. He’ll be back Monday morning.”

She must have spoken a little too loudly because everyone in the entire kitchen stopped what they were doing and stared. She turned back to Wendy, who was doing a great imitation of a whipped puppy. Damn.

“Sure, Skye. I didn’t mean to suggest—”

“I’m sorry.” She tried to rub away the throbbing of the headache taking root in her temples. “I know. I’m just—”

“Worried. It’s understandable. I’d be worried too if my hottie of a boyfriend flew off to the other side of the country to spend the weekend hanging around his ex.”

“I’m not worried and Logan is not hanging around his ex.”
He’s just sleeping under the same roof with the barracuda.
“He’s just packing his things to move home and then going to a wine competition or something.”

“Okay, sure. Sorry I mentioned it.”

Skye blew out a breath and looked around—everyone was staring.

“Chef?” Harrison, God bless him. “Could you give me a hand back here?”

“Sure.”

She turned and followed him into the walk-in. “What do you need?”

Harrison turned around and leaned against one of the tubs. “Nothing. I just thought you could use a minute to cool off. Wendy didn’t mean anything by that comment. She’s still getting over Jeff taking off, and well, when you’re in her situation, you see problems where there are none. You know?”

“Yes, I do. I didn’t mean to overreact.”

He smiled and gave her a hug. “You’ve just been a little off your game since Logan left.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and held her arms so he could look her over. “Why don’t you take Rocki up on that drink? I’ve got everything handled here. I’ll call you if I need you.”

“Are you giving me a time-out?”

“No, I’m just giving you a break. You look like you need one.”

“Fine. I’ll go, but only because I know you can handle the kitchen. Thanks for all the great work you’re doing. You’ve really stepped up—I’ve told Pete that you’re my rock back here.”

“You have?”

“Harrison, of course I have. Why wouldn’t I?”

He turned red. “I don’t know. I always thought that Rex and I worked well together, but the small changes you’ve made to the line have really made a big difference. Now things run much more smoothly. Don’t get me wrong. Rex was great.…I just didn’t feel like I could take on more responsibility with him around. With you things are different.”

“Except when I haven’t gotten enough sleep, huh?”

Harrison shrugged again. “We all have bad days. Go ahead and let off some steam with Rocki and Patrice. I’ll cover the kitchen for a few hours; then you’re on your own.”

“You talked me into it. Thanks.” She untied her apron, took off her jacket, thankful she had thrown a shirt on underneath her chef’s whites today, and headed to the front of the house. She spotted Rocki and Patrice in a booth and stopped by the bar. Simon was busy, so she went through the pass-through, poured herself a Coke, and asked Wendy to bring over a few appetizers. Even without alcohol, she needed some food to ensure that she kept her mouth shut. “How’s it going?” She slid in beside Rocki, who sipped her wine. “I hope you’re hungry. Food is on the way.”

Patrice smirked and nudged Rocki across the table. “I told you befriending the chef came with perks.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and gave Skye the once-over. “You look like hell, girlfriend. It’s a good thing we showed up when we did. Now spill, what’s wrong?”

Skye forced a smile—it took some doing and from the looks on Rocki’s and Patrice’s faces, she didn’t do a very good sales job. “Nothing’s wrong. Why?”

Both Patrice and Rocki laughed, but Patrice didn’t look happy. “Okay, sure. You look like roadkill, but nothing is bothering you. Come on, Skye. I didn’t get a sitter and come all the way down here for my health. Rocki and I came for yours.” She unrolled her napkin and set her silverware on the table. She placed her napkin in her lap and then speared Skye with her razor-sharp gaze. “Pete said you needed a few strong shoulders to lean on. He’s worried about you. Now why don’t you stop wasting my child-free time and just tell us what the hell happened?”

“Pete called you?” God, she must look worse than she’d thought.

Rocki nodded and snapped her gum.

Patrice reached across the table. “Swallow it or spit it out, Rocki. You sound like a cow chewing cud.”

“How would you know? You’ve never seen a cow except for those commercials with the talking cows from California.”

Patrice shrugged. “True, but believe me, girlfriend, the way you chew gum is not attractive and it’s beyond annoying.” Patrice reached into her purse and pulled out a tissue. “Now do us both a favor and spit it out so we can move on.”

Rocki lost the gum and then stuck her tongue out at Patrice, who rolled her eyes.

“I think you’ve been hanging around my girls too much—their behavior is starting to wear off on you.”

“Just because you’re the only one at this table who has children doesn’t mean you can treat me like one.”

Patrice ignored her and zeroed in on Skye. “You might as well just put it all out on the table so we deal with it.”

“There’s nothing to deal with. Logan went to his house last night and found Payton in his bed.”

“What?” Rocki planted her elbows on the table. “He dumped her after she showed up here, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he did.” Skye closed her eyes and rubbed her aching forehead. “You know that and I know that, but apparently it was news to Payton. She thought she had the option of taking him back and never told anyone the wedding was off. For all I know, she’s still planning the society bash of the year.”

Patrice held up her hands. “Hold on. How do you know this?”

“Because Logan was on the phone with me when he
walked into his bedroom. He started choking and said he had to go, that he had an unexpected visitor—Payton—and that she was in his bed waiting for him.” Skye left out the whole phone sex thing—Rocki and Patrice already knew more about her sex life than they needed to.

“So what happened?” Patrice asked.

Skye tried to shrug off the worry, the fifteen minutes of hell she’d gone through imagining the worst, the stabbing pain she’d felt, the complete and utter sense of impotence that crushed her like an anvil—making it difficult to breathe. “I gather they had words. Logan told Payton it was over and said he had a meeting with her father this morning and would tell him the wedding was canceled if she didn’t get off her ass and tell him herself. Then he took his bags, went to the guest room, and locked the door.”

Rocki thunked herself on the forehead with the heel of her palm and groaned. “He stayed with her?”

“Technically, yes. But he called me when it was over. He sounded pissed, then sad, then…I don’t know.…He sounded so alone. He tried to hide it, but I could tell he was upset—like a kid at a slumber party who’s scared to stay but too afraid to admit it.”

Both women nodded. Patrice grabbed Skye’s hand, and Rocki’s arm came around her in a half hug. Skye wasn’t used to whatever this was. She supposed if she had to label it, she’d call it support. She and Kelly were close, but Kelly was the only one she knew who would hug her. It was strange but nice.

Rocki gave her a squeeze. “You know you don’t have anything to worry about, right?”

“No, I really don’t.” She shook her head and wanted to die when tears burned her eyes. God, she was tired.

The two stared at her with their mouths hanging open.

“I’m not stupid. I know Payton, and believe me, she’s not going to let this go. She’s got him there for the weekend and knowing Payton, she’s going to make the most of it.”

Rocki’s arm tightened around her. “But Logan doesn’t love Payton. When I talked to him, it didn’t even sound as if he liked her. And after what she said about Nicki, there’s no way—”