Back to You: Bad Boys of Red Hook (28 page)

A picture of her in her mother’s house fighting the same demons her mother had surrendered to a long time ago became crystal clear. It wasn’t a pretty picture, and if she was being honest, neither was Bree’s reality.

Storm had been right when he accused her of being afraid to live, of being more like her mother than she’d ever imagined.

There was nothing like having a mirror held up to her face and not liking what she found there. How had she gotten to this point without noticing?

Bree looked around her cozy apartment. It was comfortable, secure, boring—just like her life. There was absolutely nothing wrong with it, but there was nothing right with it either.

It was time for a change, and it had to do with her, not Storm. No matter what happened between them, Bree was going to change her life, starting today.

She was going to go for what she wanted and not let anyone stand in her way. In the end, if Storm left again, something she fully expected him to do, she’d be fine—once she figured out how to move on. And move on she would, because after last night, she couldn’t imagine ever being happy living her life the way she had before.

Storm challenged her, showed her what she could have, and made her want more—with or without him.

Rocki sat on the couch and leaned toward Bree, invading her personal space without a hint of trepidation. “I gave you a brief reprieve so you could work, but that’s over. Now spill. Patrice and I have been dying to find out what Storm is like in bed.”

Patrice set her wine down. “I’m more interested in what happened outside of bed.”

Rocki rolled her eyes. “She’s just saying that because she doesn’t want Francis to know that he’s not the only man on the planet she dreams about getting hot and sweaty with.”

Patrice slapped Rocki without ever taking her eyes off Bree. “Where were you all night?”

Bree shook her head, determined to just get through this. “North Cove Marina. Storm borrowed a boat he’d designed.” She took a gulp of wine. “I asked if he was stealing it.”

Rocki rolled her eyes. “Have I taught you nothing?”

“Rocki, you would have thought the same thing. This was a ten-million-dollar yacht. It’s like something you see in the movies.”

Patrice’s eyes were wide. “No, shit! So that’s what he’s been doing all these years?”

Bree shrugged. “I guess. I knew he finished college and went to the Westlawn Institute of Marine Technology, but really what does that mean? I didn’t have a clue. He could have been designing tugboats for all I knew.”

Rocki was obviously handling the interrogation. “You accused him of stealing a yacht? Great way to start a date, Bree. I’m surprised he didn’t push you overboard.”

Bree took a sip of wine and shrugged. “I apologized
after I figured it out. I didn’t know why he brought me there. He said he borrowed the boat from a friend to show me who he was now. How was I supposed to know he designed it? The yacht was beyond incredible.”

Patrice let out a bark of laughter. “Isn’t that just like a man? He might as well have killed a big woolly mammoth and dragged it over to your cave. Times may change, but male behavior stays the same. It’s sweet if you think about it. Storm’s proving to you he can be a good provider.”

Bree choked on her wine, and she wondered if Patrice spent too much time in the psych ward at the hospital. “Do you know Storm Decker at all?”

Patrice sat forward and hammered her. “Do you? God, Bree, this is Psych 101.”

Bree laughed. “I thought it had more to do with the length of the boat as it relates to the length of his…”

Rocki perked up. “And?”

“Both were equally impressive, not that I have much to compare either to, but the boat was an eighty footer.”

“Damn.” Rocki smiled and hit Patrice again. “Didn’t I tell you I had a good feeling about this?”

Bree shook her head. “Storm was wonderful, and fun, and he definitely knew what he was doing, which was nice, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to stay, so nothing has really changed.”

Rocki sat back and studied her. “You’ve changed. I didn’t see it earlier, and maybe you didn’t either, but you’ve changed. You’ve had a taste of a top-shelf man. Face it—you want more.”

“Fine, you’re right, but I’m not dumb enough to think it’s going to be Storm. I’m not going to pretend just because we cleared up our past and we’re sexually compatible
that he’s going to move halfway around the world to be with me.”

Patrice took a sip of her wine. “Bree, this is Storm’s home. His family is here. You’re here. What is waiting for him in Auckland?”

Other than probably a dozen girlfriends? “His company, his life, his future. The Godzone is his world, and Red Hook is mine. He hates Red Hook. You know, that’s okay. I’ll take what I can get, and then when he leaves, I’ll pick up the pieces and move on. He’s not the only one who wants more. I want everything too. I’m just not delusional enough to believe I can have it with Storm.”

Storm looked over the plans of his Class 40 design before e-mailing it to the boat builder. Deadlines sucked, and this one was written in stone. If he didn’t get the design in on time, he’d lose the slot at the boat builder as well as his reputation, the final payment from his client, and his company’s future. Nothing like a little pressure to stress a guy out. He’d worked his whole life for this opportunity, and he was on a precipice—one false move, one fuckup, one missed deadline, and he’d crash and burn. He checked the design weight for the thousandth time—everything added up perfectly.

“What are you doing?” Nicki asked from the other side of the desk where she sketched what looked like the rocks by the pier where they’d had their first art lesson. D.O.G. slept beneath her feet. His paws twitched, and he let out muffled barks in mid–puppy dream.

Storm took a deep breath. “I’m checking my work.” He turned the computer toward her. “I’m designing a racing yacht and there are very specific rules, so I need to figure out how much the finished boat will weigh. If the bulb weight is off, it would affect the whole design.”

“Huh?”

“Well, think about it. If the boat weighs too much, then it will sit lower in the water, changing the mast height, which is measured from the waterline. There are rules about maximum mast height, and no one wants to buy an eight-million-dollar racing boat that won’t be allowed to race. The change in weight also changes the stability and causes a domino effect. Plus, maximizing the bulb weight is the art behind building a faster yacht.”

“Sounds complicated.”

Storm looked over the design, splitting the screen. “Most things in life are complicated if you look at the bigger picture.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you look at things from the surface, all you see is what’s on top of the water, but if you look beneath the surface, you see a whole lot more, and everything below changes everything above it.”

“In boats maybe.”

“No, not just in boats; it’s that way with people too. I understand you a lot better knowing where you come from than if I ran into you on a street corner. If I ran into you somewhere, I wouldn’t see how similar we are.”

“You think we’re similar? How?”

Storm sat back and looked at her. “We both had parents who gave us up; we were both lucky enough to end up in a better place. Sometimes I look at you and see myself when I was a kid. We have a lot in common that you wouldn’t realize until you take a closer look.”

Nicki slid off her chair and moved closer, studying his face in that way she had. “You think we’re lucky?”

“Heck yeah. Think of all those kids who never had a guy like Pop to steer them in the right direction, to love
them, to care for them. Hell, I could have had to stay with my real parents. I’m damn lucky, and I think you are too. Would we have been better off if we were born into the perfect family?”

“Like Francis and Patrice’s kids?”

“Maybe we would have been better off, but then I don’t know. I’ve seen plenty of people who grew up with great families who can’t hack the real world. We have something kids who seem to have everything sometimes never get. We’re tough; we never let anything stop us.”

Nicki slid closer and leaned against his side.

Storm’s arm wrapped around her, and he sat her on his thigh. “Nicki, you’re smart enough to rely on yourself when you have to. You listen to your gut, your instincts, but you’re also smart enough to accept all the help and the love that Bree and Pop and I give you. You don’t take anything for granted, and you use all the knowledge you have. You’re a survivor. When you’re all grown up, you’re going to go places, kid. No one will ever be able to stop you because when you hit a brick wall, you figure out how to go over it, around it, or through it. That’s what people like us do.”

Nicki leaned into him, resting her head against his chest. “Is that what you did? Is that why you left?”

“I guess that’s what I thought I was doing at the time. I might have been wrong, though. I should have talked to Pop about it. I didn’t look below the surface. If I had…I don’t know.” He tossed the pencil he’d been twirling between his fingers onto the desk. Maybe if he had looked beneath the surface, he wouldn’t have hurt Bree.

“But you came back.” Pop’s gruff voice startled Nicki, and she jumped off Storm’s lap and woke D.O.G.

Storm shot her a smile. “Pop always had great hearing.” He didn’t say anything about Pop’s frequent eavesdropping even though if the shoe were on the other foot, Storm would have heard about it.

Nicki rubbed D.O.G.’s floppy ear between her fingers. “Bree didn’t like you much before, but she seems to like you well enough now. Did you have fun on your date?”

“I did. I hope she did too. I took her out on a boat I designed.”

“Did she look beneath the surface?”

“Maybe, but seeing and believing are two different things, kiddo.”

“I know. It’s like what you taught me today at the pier. Per—”

“Perspective?”

“That’s it. I was thinking about what you said about seeing things from different perspectives; I guess that goes for people too. Maybe Bree is changing her perspective.”

“Maybe we all are.” Storm bit the bullet on his design, saved it, and hit Send. He’d gone over it enough times and could tweak the design here and there, but when it came down to it, it wouldn’t get any better. It was time to let it go and start making dinner.

“What’s the plan for tonight?” Pop dragged Nicki’s chair farther away from the table and sat.

“I’m cooking. Bree will be here by six, and since I ate half her lunch, she’ll be hungry.”

Pop checked his watch and stood. “She should be back at her place by now. I think I’ll go over and see her.”

Storm rose too. “I don’t know why you just don’t wait for her to come to dinner.”

“Because I can’t. I’ll make sure we’re back by six.”

Storm watched Pop walk through the apartment. He looked tired as he let himself out and rested against the wall between the two apartments before closing the door behind him.

Nicki followed Pop’s progress as closely as Storm had.

Storm couldn’t imagine what Pop had to talk to Bree about that would chase him out two days after he came home. He just hoped it had nothing to do with him. “Okay, Nicki, I’ve got to get dinner started. Let’s clean up our mess, and then maybe you can help.”

Nicki wrinkled her nose. “I’m not much of a cook.”

“Well, neither am I.” At least not heart-healthy stuff. He grabbed the recipe he’d picked up at the Fairway Market and read it. “But hell, if I can design boats, I should have no problem following a recipe, right?”

“I guess. How old were you when you decided you wanted to design boats?”

“I don’t know. I’ve loved boats ever since I can remember. I used to go down to the water and watch them whenever I could sneak away from my house. I always thought if I could just get on a boat, I’d be free.”

He didn’t tell her he was trying to steal one and run away the first time Pop had caught him. “When Pop took me in, he bought an old sailboat that was falling apart and we stripped it, fixed it all up, and made her seaworthy again. Pop taught me how to sail. That was when I knew what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I wanted to design sailboats and race them.” He’d never thought about it before, but he owed Pop for so much more than just taking him in. He owed him for showing him how to use his passion for boats constructively. Storm owed his father everything.

“Maybe I can be a boat designer too.”

“You want to be a marine architect?”

“Yeah, that.” Nicki wrinkled her nose. “’Cause I know I don’t want to be a cook.”

“That makes two of us. Yet if we want to eat, we’ve got to cook. So what do you say we give it a try?”

 * * *

At the sound of the knock, Bree’s heart banged against her ribs. It had been hours since she’d seen Storm. Just picturing the way he’d look when she opened the door had her running. Maybe he needed to borrow a cup of sugar, or maybe he just wanted to kiss her senseless again. Either way, she couldn’t get to the door fast enough.

She wrenched it open, only to find Pete leaning uncomfortably against the wall; he looked like hell. “Are you okay?” She wrapped her arm around him and led him to her chair.

“I’m fine. Would you stop hovering?”

“Hey, I’m not the one who looks like a zombie from
Dawn of the Dead
.”

Patrice and Rocki both stood. The deserters that they were took off with a cheerleader’s wave.

Pete watched as the girls left, as if waiting for them to be alone before he said anything. The click of the door was like a ringing of the bell in a prizefight. “I was worried about you. You’ve made yourself scarce since Nicki brought home her furry friend.”

Bree sat beside him and clasped her hands between her knees to keep from touching him. His color wasn’t good, but then it could be from walking through the apartments; he’d only been home two days.

“Storm told me you’re afraid of dogs.”

“Wasn’t that nice of him?” Bree didn’t bother to hide her sarcasm. “I suppose he told Nicki too. It’s one thing to look like a wuss in front of the two of you, but I really don’t want Nicki to think I’m—”