Bad Boys of Red Hook [2] You're the One (39 page)

Nicki smiled up at her when D.O.G. gave the puppy a cursory sniff. “Now we can walk our dogs together all the time.”

“We sure can.”

“What are you going to call him?”

“I don’t know. Let me get dinner on the table and then we can discuss it. Maybe something will come to us. Will you hold him for me?”

“Sure. I’ll puppy sit.” Nicki took the pup and ran off to play with the dogs and Francis and Patrice’s girls in her room.

Skye turned to Logan, who still wore a worried look. “Thank you. I love the puppy.”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “Well, that’s a relief. Nicki has a way of getting her own way, and she was sure you were miserable without Pepperoni.”

“I wouldn’t say I was miserable, but I did miss my little puggle. I’ve never had a puppy before, though, so I don’t know how to train one.”

“Yeah, that makes two of us. But it’s okay. I bought a bunch of books and signed us up for puppy school. We start next week.”

“What do we do until then?”

“I guess we just have to wing it. Remember, as long as we’re together, there’s nothing we can’t handle.”

She kissed him again and pulled away. “You’re definitely right. But at the moment, I have a dinner to finish preparing. Boys,” she said a bit louder than her normal speaking voice, “you’re on dish duty, so get the table set. Dinner is in ten minutes.”

There was a bunch of grumbling, but one look from Bree and they all became very quiet.

Francis and Rocki handed the utensils and the glasses across the breakfast bar while she made decadent mashed garlic potatoes with heavy cream, butter, and sour cream. The finished product was well worth the calories. She
made a skinny version for Pete—she figured she’d mix them half-and-half, so hopefully he wouldn’t notice.

Everyone piled around the table. Logan poured wine for the adults, and ginger ale for Pete and the kids.

Skye watched as Pete switched glasses with Bree when Logan wasn’t looking. Pete gave Bree a wink that made Skye think there was an interesting story behind the switch.

Skye looked at the table loaded with food and all the people she’d grown to love. She couldn’t believe how much love could be contained in one place. She was humbled to be a part of this loud, crazy, loving family, and she wouldn’t have traded them for the world. She looked at the kids, caught Nicki’s eye, and blew her a kiss.

Pete held up his glass. “Here’s to our growing family.”

Logan held up his glass and cleared his throat before turning to her. “I have known many, and liked not a few, but loved only one, and this toast is to you, Skye. I love you.” He reached over and kissed her. Rocki and Patrice sighed, the guys rolled their eyes, and Skye kissed him until she heard gagging noises coming from the kids.

“I love you too.”

“I fell in love with you the first time I saw you. Skye, you’re the one.”

Mug in hand, Bree waited for the coffee to brew. She looked away from the pot when Storm walked through the front door, wearing running shorts and a sweat-stained T-shirt. The sight of him stole all the oxygen from the room, maybe the whole building.

“Morning, Breezy.”

“Morning.”

Storm lifted the hem of his shirt and wiped his face, baring his washboard abs and revealing the treasure trail of dark hair disappearing into the waistband of his shorts. Rounding the breakfast bar, he set two bags of what smelled like bagels and all the fixings on the counter, then grabbed a water from the fridge. As he downed the entire bottle, his Adam’s apple bobbed with each gulp.

“Coffee?” She cleared her throat, hardly recognizing her own voice. She grabbed another mug and, without waiting for the machine to finish, poured two cups.

Flashbacks, like grainy sex tapes of the last night she’d seen Storm before he’d left, ran through her mind. Every. Humiliating. Moment. She took a slow, deep breath.

Storm stared at her.

She raised her chin and stared right back. He’d changed—physically at least. He was broader and more muscled. His tall, skinny frame had filled out in manhood, and the angles of his face had sharpened. His nose was narrow and a little crooked, probably the result of all the fights he’d gotten into as a kid. His square jaw was more defined, and his neck was corded with muscle. He was solid, heavy, dangerous, and so full of charged energy, he seemed to barely kept it in check.

Needing something to do, Bree opened the bags and peeked in. “Thanks for picking up breakfast.”

“Anything to keep you away from a frying pan.”

She winged her eyebrow as she snatched the first salt bagel she saw, ripped a piece off, and stuffed it in her mouth.

“I didn’t know what you and Nicki liked, so I got a little of everything—just to be safe.” He pulled his shirt off and dragged it across his neck and chest. “I’ll just grab a quick shower.”

She stared at his six-pack. Why couldn’t it be a keg?

“Hello? Breezy? Did you hear me?”

“Uh, yeah.” She handed him his coffee and watched him walk to Pete’s room. Wasn’t she just chock-full of inspired repartee? She wasn’t out to impress him or anything, but sheesh, she’d sounded like a member of the dim-bulb club.

Nicki padded out of her room in her Hello Kitty nightgown. “He’s still here?”

“Shh. He might hear you.”

Nicki smiled as she climbed onto the barstool. “I can live with that.”

“What, that Storm is here or that he might hear you?”

“Both, actually. I bet Pop will be happy to see him.” Nicki tilted her head to one side. “How come Storm’s been gone so long?”

Bree closed her eyes and rubbed the spot on her temple that throbbed with every beat of her heart. God, she was in no mood for twenty questions. “I’m not sure.” She knew why Storm had left, but not why he stayed away. “I guess you’ll just have to ask him.”

Bree poured a glass of orange juice and slid it across the bar. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine after you took Storm down. Man, that was epic. You were like Wonder Woman with a frying pan instead of the rope.”

“Yeah, that’s me. Wonder Woman with her frying pan of truth.” Bree arranged the bagels on a plate and grabbed another for the whitefish and lox. There must have been seventy-five dollars’ worth of lox, not to mention the schmear. She handed the plates to Nicki. “Why don’t you set the table so we can eat? We need to get down to the hospital, and I’m already running late.”

Nicki walked around the table, placing the napkins on top of the plates.

No matter how many times Bree corrected her, she couldn’t break Nicki of the habit. “Food goes on the plate. Napkins belong under the fork or on your lap.”

Nicki stopped. “When you sit down, the first thing you do is put your napkin in your lap. What’s it matter if the napkin’s under the fork or on the plate?”

Bree sighed. What was the point? They’d had the discussion thirty times. It never changed the way Nicki set the table, and it only served to remind her of Nicki’s first dinner at Pete’s, the day Bree fell in love with the little scamp.

Pete had asked Bree to come because Nicki seemed uncomfortable alone with him. The poor thing had just been abandoned by the only parent she’d ever known. She was hurt, scared, and thrown into the care of a big bear of a man.

Nicki had spent the meal hunched over her plate, guarding her food. She’d even hidden some in her napkin for later. Bree’s heart broke every time she thought about it. She placed her hands on Nicki’s shoulders.

“What?” Nicki gave her that look—a little confused, a little shy, and still, even after almost three months, a little scared.

Bree pulled her close and held her, resting her chin on the top of Nicki’s head. She loved Nicki as much as she imagined any mother loved her child. She’d always wanted a family—a traditional family like the one she had before her father died. She remembered what it was like when she had two loving parents and then what her life was like after her father had died. She was afraid of being the same kind of single parent her mother had turned into—smothering, obsessive. Bree wouldn’t do that to a child. No, unless Bree found a man and was happily married, she’d never have a child of her own. Many single women had children and were fabulous parents, but the deep fear of becoming like her mother was enough to make her not want to take the chance. “I love you, Nicki.”

Nicki snuggled in. “For always and forever?”

Bree held her tighter. “For always and forever. No matter what.”

“Even if I never put the napkin in the right place?”

Bree felt a smile tug on the corners of her mouth. The little brat was testing her. “Even then. I love you for who
you are, not what you do.” She kissed the top of Nicki’s head and looked up to find Storm leaning against the doorjamb. The curious look in his eye had Bree hugging Nicki tighter. She wasn’t sure what Storm was curious about, but then, she didn’t know Storm Decker—not anymore and maybe not ever.

It was an affront to all womankind that Storm could take a five-minute shower and come out looking edible when it took Bree an hour just to come out looking not scary.

Bree kissed the top of Nicki’s head again, released the little rascal, and then reached for a bagel for Nicki. Cutting it in half, Bree stopped just short of slicing her hand. The damn man made her nervous.

“Good morning, Nicki.” Storm sat at the head of the table while Nicki piled her bagel with lox. He took up more room than any man should—all spread out, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“That’s Pop’s chair.”

“Yeah, well, you’re sitting in mine.”

Nicki snorted. “Doesn’t have your name on it.”

Bree watched as Nicki sized up Storm. He looked loose and comfortable, as if his father weren’t in the hospital; as if he hadn’t been away for more than a third of his life; as if he ate breakfast with her and Nicki every day.

Storm set his coffee on the table and sat straighter in his chair. “What grade are you in?”

Holding her bagel with both hands, Nicki continued to eye him. “I’m going into fifth grade.” She took a big bite of her bagel and struggled to keep it in her mouth.

Bree stopped herself from telling Nicki to take human bites. The girl didn’t eat food; she inhaled it.

“So that makes you how old?” Storm asked, either not noticing Nicki’s lack of table manners, or ignoring them.

Bree pushed Nicki’s juice toward her. “Ten.”

When Nicki finally swallowed, she shook her head. “Ten and a half.”

Bree snuck glances at Storm as she fixed what was left of her bagel. Licking the remnants of schmear off the side of her finger, she lifted the bagel to her mouth to lick what had escaped.

She caught Storm staring. She remembered that look; no matter how many times she’d tried to forget it, it returned to her in her dreams. It was the same look she’d seen in his eyes right before he’d shut down and run away from her all those years ago, leaving her naked and needy. Fidgeting in her chair, she crossed her legs before wiping her fingers on her napkin, and tried to erase it from her inner hard drive.

Bree saw Nicki goggling at Storm. God only knew what would come out of Nicki’s mouth next. The girl was not only perceptive, but she said whatever went through her mind. “Nicki, why don’t you run and get dressed. Don’t forget to wash your face and brush your teeth. You can take the rest of your bagel with you and eat it on the way to the hospital.”

Nicki looked at her plate.

“I’ll wrap up the leftovers so when we come back, you can make another bagel to bring down to the restaurant if you want.”

“Okay.” Nicki rose, still looking longingly at her half-eaten bagel, and then swiped her tongue across the schmear.

Bree cringed—as if anyone else would eat it. “Just leave it. I’ll
put it in a sandwich bag for you. And don’t forget to bring a sweater. It’s always chilly in the hospital.”

Nicki did the patented teenaged eye roll and headed to her room, muttering, “Bree, I’m not a baby.”

Storm turned the full wattage of his smile up a few degrees and aimed it at Bree. “The kid’s still protective of her food after three months? I’m surprised she didn’t spit in her juice.”

“Like you never backwashed your Coke. At least she doesn’t hunch over her plate anymore.” She picked up Nicki’s bagel. “Are you going to eat anything?”

“I guess I should. She didn’t lick anything else, did she?”

“You should be safe. She’s had all her shots.”

He fixed a monster bagel while Bree made another for Nicki and grabbed a juice box.

“Where’d Pop find Nicki?”

Bree shrugged and pulled out a few sandwich bags. “You need to talk to Pete about that. All I know is one day Nicki was here. Pete said he’d known her mom years ago and that she couldn’t care for Nicki anymore, so she signed over all parental rights and left Nicki with him.”

“Who’s her mother?”

Bree stashed the food in the fridge. “I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. Right now, it’s more important for Nicki to know she has a real home where she’s loved and wanted.”

Storm’s straight dark brows drew together as if he didn’t believe her. Well, that was his problem. She didn’t owe him anything, but she owed Pete her life. Pete had been her father’s lifelong friend and partner on the force. He’d taken her under his wing after her dad’s death, loving her and supporting her like a surrogate father.
Pete gave her a safe place to escape her mother, he gave her guidance, and eventually he gave her a job and a home. She’d do anything to protect Nicki and Pete.

At the thought of Pete, she realized Storm was going to have one hell of a shock when he saw him.

Bree stopped what she was doing. “Storm, Pete’s changed a lot. He’s aged. He’s not the same big guy you saw six years ago.”

“People don’t change that much.”

“They do after open-heart surgery.”

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