Back to You: Bad Boys of Red Hook (39 page)

The outer door opened and Storm stepped out, engulfing Bree in a hug before turning to her mom. “Hi, Mrs. Collins.”

“Hello, Storm. Please call me Noreen.”

“Okay.” He looked from Bree to her mother. “Look, there’s something I have to tell you.” He wiped his face with his hand. “I didn’t have anything to do with it, but it seems they’ve planned a surprise party. I’m sorry, babe.” Storm took her mother’s hand. “Noreen, if you’re not up for it—”

“It’s fine.” Her mother looked Storm in the eye and smiled—two genuine smiles in less than a few minutes. “Pete called and asked if a party was okay with me. I haven’t been to a party in years, and I wouldn’t miss this one for the world.”

Bree wondered if she was hearing things. “You knew?” Wow, the medication was really working. A huge weight she hadn’t even been aware she’d carried slipped from her shoulders.

Storm opened the door and ushered them in. “Noreen, we’re here for you if the gang gets to be too much, but from the way you look, I think you’re going to have fun.”

Bree watched Storm take her mother’s arm and fell a little bit more in love with him. She didn’t think it was possible, but she did. This ranked right up there as the happiest day of her life. Stepping inside, she took it all in and blinked back tears. Everyone was there. Everyone—Nicki and Logan, Rocki’s band, Storm, Bree’s favorite customers, the liquor distributors, Pete’s entire crew, Patrice and her whole family, even Thomas Danby.

Storm gave her his good-time grin and a what-are-you-gonna-do shrug before pointing out the banner hanging over the bar that said
CONGRATULATIONS, BREE AND STORM!

She sucked in a lungful of air and tried to calm her racing heart.

Pete stepped out of the crowd wearing a smile so dazzling, Bree was tempted to reach for her sunglasses. He wrapped his arms around her mother and hugged her close. “Noreen, it’s so wonderful to have you back where you belong. I’ve missed you.” He gave her a smacking kiss on both cheeks. “Quinn is looking down on you and smiling.”

Noreen placed a hand on Pete’s cheek. “I’m so sorry—”

“Now, none of that. We’re celebrating a wonderful new beginning, for you, and for Bree and Storm. It’s a fine day for it, don’t you think?”

Noreen nodded, and Pete kept his arm around her as they made their way to the bar. “Now sit yourself down and I’ll get you a drink. What will it be?”

“Just a sparkling water, Pete.”

Bree caught Nicki, who’d run right into her arms, hugging her tight. “Hi, sweetie.” Nicki wore a frilly dress. “Look at you!” Nicki held out the skirt of her dress. “Miss Rocki bought it and made me wear it. It’s pink.” Nicki obviously wasn’t a fan of the color or the dress.

Storm put his arm around Nicki. “I think you both look beautiful.”

Nicki beamed, and Bree was pretty sure she was doing her fair share of beaming too. But then she had been ever since Storm came back to her.

One of Patrice’s kids called Nicki; she said a quick good-bye and ran off to play.

Storm tugged her away as Patrice’s mother took the stool beside Noreen. “Your mom’s doing great, huh?”

“Yes, she’s doing amazingly well.” She saw the tension in her mother’s stiff back, but Bree supposed that was to be expected. Life was good. Pete too was getting better and stronger every day. It was great to see him behind the bar again.

Bree rested against Storm’s chest as he kissed the side of her neck. “Let’s take a few minutes to say hello to everyone else. Coretta’s keeping an eye on your mom. We won’t go far.”

Bree turned in his arms. “How do you know the exact right thing to say?”

“I know you, Breezy, and I love you.”

Bree and Storm spent the next hour talking with friends and dancing to the “For Lovers Only” playlist Rocki performed with her band.

Storm held her close, swaying to “Someone Like You.” “Uh-oh.”

Bree leaned back to look into his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Thomas and your mother have their heads together, and Pop looks…Damn, he looks jealous.”

“What?” Storm spun them around so Bree could see. Thomas definitely seemed to be cozying up to her mom, and Pete looked put out. “Maybe Thomas is just being friendly and Pete’s being protective.”

“Thomas is definitely being friendly—real friendly. Your mom’s a beautiful woman, Bree, and Thomas is single. His wife died years ago, and he’s a great guy, but Pop doesn’t like it at all. Your mom, on the other hand, looks as if she’s having a great time.”

“She’s never dated anyone other than my dad. As far as I know, she’s never even looked at another man.”

“Hate to break it to you, babe, but she’s lookin’ now.”

Once Rocki finished the song, she told everyone to head over to the bar for an announcement, and Bree and Storm followed the crowd.

Pete, as usual, took charge. “Okay, everyone. We’re here to celebrate Bree and Storm’s engagement.”

Everyone cheered.

Pete signaled for quiet. “But that’s not all. Bree, come up here, sweetheart. We have a little something especially for you.”

Bree felt her face flush as Storm led her to the end of the bar. She couldn’t imagine what he and Pete had up their sleeves. Her mother joined them, looping her arm around Bree’s waist.

Pete brought a large, thin, beautifully wrapped box from behind the bar. “This is for you from all of us. We’re so proud of you, Bree.”

“Me? Why?” Bree pulled the wrapping paper off the box, set it on the bar, and lifted the top. She took out a plaque with the
Wall Street Journal
article about the
Harbor Pier Project and her work on the Red Hook Revitalization Committee. “Oh my, it’s beautiful.” It took her breath away. Next to it was an artist’s rendering of the Harbor Pier Project. She’d never seen the drawing before. She looked at the artists’ signatures—it was signed
Storm Decker and Nicki.

“Storm, you and Nicki drew this?”

Storm shrugged. “I looked over the plans and thought it would be a fun project for us to take on.”

Nicki stood in front of Bree’s mother. Noreen’s hands rested on Nicki’s shoulders as Nicki bounced with excitement. “Do you like it, Bree?”

“Like it? I love it. I love you, Nicki.” She pulled her into a hug and then kissed Storm as he wrapped his arms around the two of them, pulling her mom into the group hug. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever received. Thank you.”

Storm brushed away a tear from her cheek. “Okay, Pop. Hand it over.”

She wasn’t sure what Storm was talking about until Pete handed him a hammer and nail. Storm walked right up to the Wall of Fame and hung her plaque as the crowd applauded.

Bree stopped him. “Storm, that’s for your family.”

Storm kissed her again. “You’re right, which is why we’re putting it here in the center, just where it belongs. You’re the heart of our family, Bree. You always have been.”

“The head cook just quit.” Logan looked from Rocki to Francis.

Francis did a double take. “Rex would never just up and quit.”

Logan rubbed his forehead where the mother of all headaches was forming. “He’s an only child and his mother just had a stroke. She’s paralyzed on the left side—and she lives in Florida. It’s not as if he really had a choice.”

Rocki tapped her foot. “Bummer.”

Logan couldn’t believe this. “Come on, guys, you’re supposed to help me out. Can either of you cook?”

The two of them looked like a pair of bobblehead dolls in a crosswind.

“Neither can I. This is just great. What am I supposed to do now?”

Rocki shrugged one shoulder. “I suggest you start looking for a cook.”

“It’s Sunday. How the hell am I going to find a cook by opening on Tuesday?”

A grin split Francis’s face. “You can put a help-wanted sign in the window.”

Rocki went around the bar and poured herself a soda, missing the glass and making a mess of the bar Logan had just scrubbed. “Have you asked Pete?”

“No, I didn’t want him to have another coronary.”

Both Rocki and Francis shot him matching glares.

“Bad joke. He’s had a rough morning. I caught him smoking his cigar on the roof and we had words.” Logan was definitely not ready for the role reversal. “All I need to do is tell Pop his cook just quit. He’s supposed to be recovering, and I’m supposed to be managing the place, remember?”

Rocki took a long sip of her soda and watched him over the rim of the glass. “It’s not as if you’re going to be able to hide it from him for long. He’ll notice on Tuesday. Maybe he has a backup chef.”

Francis shook his head. “I doubt it. He’s never needed one before.”

Logan’s phone vibrated. He didn’t have to check to know it was his fiancé, Payton; she’d been calling constantly crying desertion since he’d traveled from California to Brooklyn to help out his father. He let the call go to voice mail. “Fine. I’ll tell Pop, but first I’m going to put up a help-wanted sign. Maybe an incredible cook will walk by and want the job.”

Francis laughed. “Yeah, and maybe I’ll win the New York lottery.”

Logan got busy with the sign, figuring he had nothing to lose, and other than putting an ad on Craigslist later, he didn’t have a plan B.

Logan taped the sign up in the front window and wondered if temp services had cooks—it was worth a try.

He was still running his finger over the tape when a beautiful dark-haired woman dragging a suitcase shouldered
the door open. She was a little thing with shoulder-length black hair, pale, almost translucent skin, and the darkest blue eyes he’d ever seen.

“You’re hiring a cook?”

Logan shot a glance at Rocki and Francis, who stood beside the bar with their mouths hanging open.

“That’s what the sign says. Can you cook?”

“Honey, there’s nothing I can’t do in a kitchen.” She had a deep, smoky voice that made him think of tangled sheets.

Between her voice and her comment, Logan’s mind spun directly into the gutter. What was wrong with him? Not only was she not his type, but he was engaged—to a woman who could double as a centerfold. He cleared his throat, temporarily speechless.

“Lucky for you, I’m looking for a job. May I see the kitchen?”

“Why?”

“I won’t work in a dirty or unsafe kitchen.”

“Where have you worked?”

“Here and there. You know how it is in the restaurant business.” She pulled a menu out of the rack on the side of the hostess stand and paged through it. “There’s nothing on here I can’t handle. How many people do you seat a night?”

Logan looked at Rocki and Francis, but the two of them simply shrugged.

“I don’t know. I just took over the place last night. The manager got married yesterday, went on her honeymoon. I’m just filling in for the month. It was a really bad time for the cook to quit.”

She smiled and it transformed her from beautiful in a girl-next-door kind of way to simply stunning. “It’s a
good thing I walked by, then.” She looked around. “I assume the kitchen is through there?” She pointed at the swinging double doors.

“Yes, it is.”

“Okay, then, let’s take a look.” She set her backpack and suitcase on the bench of a booth, and he found himself following her to the kitchen.

“Did you close today because you lost your cook?”

“No, we’re only open Tuesday through Saturday.”

She shot him another heart-stopping grin. Nope, he hadn’t imagined it. She was absolutely staggering. Her lips were full, rose colored, and bare. She wasn’t wearing all that lip crap Payton was always applying—most of which tasted bad enough to put him off kissing for life. If this woman wore makeup, he couldn’t detect it—not that she needed it. Her eyelashes were coal black, full enough to create shadows on her pale cheeks.

“So I’ll only have to work five days a week? It’ll seem like a vacation.”

The way she spoke, he’d have thought he’d already given her the job. He hadn’t. Still, he followed her and couldn’t help but notice that her back was as attractive as her front—not that he was looking or anything. His cell phone vibrated. He snuck a peek—Payton—and shoved his phone into his pocket as the woman inspected the kitchen like a general inspecting her troops. She even ran her finger under the hood. “Your cook kept a clean kitchen. I like that.” She took a turn through the walk-through refrigerator, stepped out, and closed the door behind her. “Okay, I’ll take the job.”

“You will?” He shook his head. “Hold on. I haven’t even offered it yet. Hell, I don’t even know your name.”

She stepped toward him and held out her hand. “Skye. Skye Sinclair.”

He took it—her hand was small, warm, and as callused as his. Her shake was surprisingly firm, considering she barely came up to his shoulder, and her touch sent a shock wave through him that had him holding on to see if it would continue. It did.

 * * *

Once this guy tasted her cooking, there was no question that he’d hire her on the spot and she really needed the job. The kitchen was first-class, and the dining room was large enough to keep the menu interesting, but still small enough to cook everything to order.

Since the man seemed completely clueless when it came to running a restaurant, she’d have total control of the kitchen for at least the month he was scheduled to be in charge. It was the one thing she’d always longed for—her very own kitchen.

This was a real lucky break—she fingered the four-leaf clover she wore around her neck.

When she’d walked through the doors and spotted him, he’d looked familiar. Tall, really tall, he was at least a foot taller than her five feet two. Sometimes it really sucked being short. He had dark brown, almost black hair, a narrow nose, a square jaw, and high cheekbones sharp enough to fillet meat. His eyes were the color of rich caramel—her favorite decadence other than chocolate. He was tan and lean, and hotter than a desert afternoon during a heat wave. He looked like one of the models she’d seen while paging through the stack of magazines she’d picked up to read on the plane—the man was gorgeous. But the more she watched him, the
more he reminded her of someone specific. She just couldn’t put her finger on who.