Bad Boys of Red Hook [2] You're the One (36 page)

“I don’t know, Pete. I’d think he was giving up if I hadn’t seen the architectural drawings. He wouldn’t be planning a restaurant if he didn’t want Skye involved, would he?”

Pete slicked his hair back and then cracked his knuckles. “For all we know, he could have spoken to the architect before his life hit the skids. But even if he didn’t, even if he’s planning this whole thing, he’s still not going to get Skye back until he gets off his ass and goes to see her. And the longer he waits, the harder it’s going to be.”

“So what are you gonna do?”

Pete looked at Francis. “Why does everyone look at me to do something?”

“Because you’re the only one Logan won’t try to beat the crap out of if you try to talk to him about Skye.”

“Have you tried?”

Francis shook his head. “Nah, I know I can take him, but shit, Patrice would kill me if I hurt the guy. I’d be sleeping on the couch for the rest of my life. Logan’s happiness is just not worth that much to me.”

“Once again it falls to me. What the hell are you boys going to do when I’m gone?”

Francis gave him a horrified look. “Maybe if you’d stop ignoring your doctor’s instructions, we won’t have to find out for a good long while. I for one would appreciate it.”

“One scotch once in a while isn’t going to kill me. You boys and your damn problems might, though.” He slid off his stool, finished his drink, and went to deal with Logan.

*   *   *

Logan stared at the preliminary drawings of the microbrewery and restaurant until his eyes crossed. A part of him wanted to rip them to shreds and shoot them all over the Crow’s Nest like confetti after a New Year’s Eve bash. The other part wanted to hold on to them to
remind him of what it felt like to be so close to having everything and lose it all because of one bad move and a reliable condom.

He was just about to roll up the plans when Pop hefted himself into the booth across from him. His father had taken off more weight, but there was still only an inch of space between his gut and the table. “It’s not a good time, Pop.”

“It’s never going to be unless you do something to change it. You’ve been miserable since Skye left.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do? I’ve called her, texted her, and e-mailed her. I’ve done everything but hire a skywriter to fly over her apartment building and write ‘forgive me or at least answer your phone.’” He ran his hands through his hair and didn’t even care if it was standing straight up. “Sometimes no message is a message in and of itself. Skye wants nothing to do with me.”

“Do you even know where she lives?”

“Of course I know where she lives. I’m in love with her.” He didn’t mention that it had taken him two hours on the Internet to figure it out. He went on Google Earth to check out the building—it was nice. Real nice. Maybe Slater had a point when he talked about pedigree, but he’d sooner die than admit it. He made a fist and looked at his bruised knuckles. His hand was a little swollen, but it still looked a damn sight better than Slater’s face.

“You’re just going to give up?”

“What do you expect me to do?”

Pop’s eyes flashed and he leaned forward until he just about covered the table. “I expected you to adjust your drawers over a week ago, get on a plane, and bang on her door until she opened it. I expected you to do what every man who loves a woman has to do eventually—I expected
you to beg. When you didn’t, I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

There weren’t many times Logan lost his temper—okay, so he’d lost it when he saw Slater and heard what he’d said to Skye, but other than that, he couldn’t remember the last time he had the urge to pummel someone. And never his father. Not Pop. But he did now. Instead, he rolled the plans up so tightly the paper squeaked. “What did you do?” he asked through clenched teeth. It sounded more like an accusation than anything that deserved a question mark at the end.

Pop’s smile was like adding black powder to a bonfire. “I’m kicking you out.” He pressed an envelope to Logan’s chest. “Here’s a ticket. I won’t allow you to sit here and wallow in self-pity. I didn’t raise you to run away like a whipped puppy. Don’t come back until you’ve talked to Skye in person.” He looked at his watch. “If you want to pack a bag, you better get a move on. You’ve got to be at the airport in under two hours.”

“What am I supposed to say to her?”

“Hell, son. Do you want me to write you a freakin’ speech? How the hell do I know? If you want advice on groveling, talk to Francis. He’s the one with all the experience, and hey, it must work, since he and Patrice have been together for years.” He tapped the plans. “Oh, and you might want to take these with you. If you need to resort to bribery, these plans might just do the trick.”

*   *   *

Skye stood in front of her refrigerator filled with food and healthy ingredients. Nicki would hate it. God, she missed that little girl, but she couldn’t think about Nicki now. Every time she did, she just felt worse. She turned her attention back to the food in her fridge, knowing she should eat
something, but she couldn’t muster any interest. She hadn’t cooked since she’d been home. She hadn’t watched TV. She hadn’t checked her e-mail. She hadn’t read a book. She hadn’t answered the phone—she wasn’t even sure where she put it. The only thing she’d done was sleep and stare into space and replay every memory of Logan and Nicki ad nauseam.

She grabbed her coffee and shuffled through the living room. She’d always thought her home so beautiful, but now it didn’t feel like home. She and Kelly had spent months decorating, searching the stores for the perfect couch, the drapes, that stupid table she thought she’d use as a desk. Only she never did. She always worked so much that table became nothing more than a convenient place to leave her purse and briefcase. It was the same place she’d dumped them when she got home almost two weeks ago. She hadn’t even charged her phone. What was the point?

A knock at the door had her double-timing it back to bed. Her brothers and Kelly took turns stopping by every day to harass her. She’d hoped they’d eventually get the message and stop. It looked as if today wasn’t her lucky day. No surprise there. They’d spend an hour with her. An hour filled with uncomfortable silence or even more uncomfortable conversation, and a good amount of staring. They’d try to ply her with to-go boxes filled with the daily specials that only ended up in the garbage.

She looked around her pristine bedroom and missed the dog toys she was used to stepping over and the fact she no longer had to put all her lingerie out of puggle reach. Shit, she missed everything and everyone from her old life—and it was just that—a life. She certainly didn’t have a life now. She didn’t have much of a life
before she went to Red Hook. And the future wasn’t looking promising.

Today she decided to sleep through the visit. She put her coffee on the bedside table, slipped back into bed, and drew the covers over her head.

The knocking stopped; the front door swung open; someone came in and slammed the door.

She knew it was one of the sphincter police by the heavy footfalls across the hardwood floor of her living room. Kelly didn’t stomp like an elephant or slam doors.

The elephant stopped beside her bed. “Your coffee is still steaming.”

Shit, it was Paddy.

“I know you’re awake. Time to get up.” He ripped the covers off.

She shot right up in bed. “It’s a damn good thing I wear clothes to bed or you’d be getting an eyeful.” She cringed when she saw his face. “What?”

“Here.” He dropped a beautifully wrapped package on the bed.

“This is a new one. So far you guys have brought me chocolate, flowers, Oprah books, and at least a dozen chick flicks. Hell, Kier even brought me a DVD of
Magic Mike
.”

“I know. He still hasn’t lived that one down. He was pulling it out of the Redbox when one of his old girlfriends ran into him. He followed her all the way down the produce aisle trying to explain that he hadn’t rented it for himself.” He picked up her coffee and took a sip.

“Help yourself.”

“You weren’t drinking it. You were sleeping, remember? The present isn’t for you. It’s Mom’s birthday.”

“You bought her a present from me?”

“Of course.”

Her big brother actually went shopping? She couldn’t believe it. “Oh God, maybe I took a wrong turn at depressed and went straight to delusional.”

“Good to see you still have your snarky sense of humor. Kelly bought it and wrapped it. We’re expected at the club in an hour and a half. You’re going if I have to pick you up out of bed and carry you.”

She got up on her knees and planted her hands on her hips. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me. Mom and Dad have been asking questions, and the four of us have run out of excuses. Either you come, or Mom is going to kill us all. You know how she is about her birthday.”

“Oh, come on, Paddy. Tell her I’m sick or something.” Shit, she was actually whining. She was beginning to sound like Nicki.

He set her coffee down, sat on the edge of her bed, rested his elbows on his knees, and scrubbed his face. “No, Skye, I can’t. And unless you want Mom to see you looking like a rougher version of that bag lady we saw pushing her shopping cart down your block in New York, I suggest you do whatever you need to do to transform yourself back into my little sister.”

The bravado she’d had a minute before deflated. She scooted closer to Paddy, took his big hand in hers, and earned a suspicious quirk of his brow. “I can’t go to the club tonight. I just can’t.” She hated that she was never more than a blink away from tears.

“It’s been two weeks. You’ve hidden out and we’ve all been covering for you. We don’t even know what’s going on. Kelly only told me you fell for some guy and he broke your heart. But I have to tell you, squirt. It’s getting old. I’ve
known you your whole life and I’ve never seen you like this. What do I have to do to get my little sister back? Just tell me. I swear, I’ll do it.”

“I wish I knew. I don’t know how to get past it. Every morning I wake up thinking that maybe it’ll stop hurting. It hasn’t.”

“Skye, sitting around here isn’t working. You have to try something else. If you don’t want to come back to work, that’s fine. If you do, that’s fine too. If you want your own kitchen, you can have mine. Just don’t do this anymore.”

“Do you think I enjoy being miserable? I go to sleep thinking about him. I dream about him. I wake up reaching for him—then I remember what happened and it’s like it’s happening all over again.”

“Who is this son of a bitch? I’ll kill him.”

“No, you won’t.” But then the way Paddy looked, she was beginning to wonder. “It doesn’t matter. He just didn’t love me—not enough.”

“You quit and moved to New York because of this guy?”

“What? No. I quit for all the reasons I told you. I wanted my own kitchen. That’s why I went to New York. I thought I’d get a job where no one knew me. I even used Mom’s maiden name so no one would connect me to Maxwell’s. I walk into the Crow’s Nest and who do I end up working for? Logan Blaise. It’s a small world.”

“The winemaker? What was he doing in Red Hook?”

“He grew up there. His father owns the Crow’s Nest, and Logan was helping out while Pete recovered from a heart attack.”

“So Logan Blaise did this to you? But until about two weeks ago he was engaged to Payton Billingsly.”

“They broke up again?”

“I don’t know about again. I heard about it after we came back.”

“It doesn’t matter. Logan told me he’d broken up with Payton before we started seeing each other. Maybe the breakup was a lie, or maybe I was his rebound relationship. I don’t know. He swore I wasn’t. I thought things were good, but then he flew back to go to a wine competition and he and Payton got back together. He said he loved me, Paddy. He made me believe him and then he cheated on me. I had to find out from Kelly.”

“How did Kelly know and why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because she’s my best friend and you were being a real ass. Anyway, Kelly saw Logan and Payton together at the club and smacked him for me. I couldn’t stay at the Crow’s Nest and work with him, so I found a replacement chef and left with you before he got back.”

“You were together for a few weeks and you got in that deep?”

Skye couldn’t help it—she rolled her eyes. “How long does it take? Paddy, I love him so much, I don’t know how not to. Believe me, I’ve tried.” She wiped her eyes on the worn sleeve of her thrift store Pratt sweatshirt. God, she was sick of crying, and sick of herself. “It’s as if he ripped out my heart and somehow I’m still alive. I loved him, his little girl, Nicki—I even loved the dogs, his father, and all his friends. When I was with Logan, I felt so alive. I don’t know how to explain it. It was as if my universe expanded. And when he left, when he got back together with Payton, everything was just gone. I’ve tried, but I don’t know how to get over him. I’m hoping I just haven’t figured it out yet.”

“I can tell you one thing, squirt. You’re not going to do it
lying in bed crying. You just have to get up and get on with your life. You go to work, you go home, you go through the motions until you’re not going through the motions anymore.”

“How long does that take?”

“I don’t know. I’ll let you know if I ever figure it out.”

Where had she heard that before? Oh right, from Slater. Coming from Slater, it made sense, but not Paddy. Paddy was always the one to dump the women he went out with. He was married to his kitchen; no one else could compete. “You were in love?”

“Do you think I have no heart?”

“No, I just don’t remember you ever getting attached enough to anyone to end up hurt and I can’t remember you ever getting dumped.”

“It’s not something I publicize and nothing personal, but a guy doesn’t cry on his little sister’s shoulder. We just go on. It gets easier. Eventually. Now get up and get yourself together. If we’re late, I’m going to blame it on you, and you know how Mom and Dad are when it comes to punctuality.”

*   *   *

Skye stared at the tablecloth while polite party chatter played on around her like country-club Muzak. She twisted her napkin around her hand until it turned red and throbbed.