Had to Be You: Bad Boys of Red Hook (11 page)

Rocki was so not expecting that—especially not a lingering, nibbley kiss, the kind of kiss that leads to longer, openmouthed kisses. A smacking kiss would have been bad enough, but a nibbley kiss was way out of bounds. It was a good thing Slater had a grip on the plates, because if it had been up to her, they’d need a broom.

He licked his lips and gave her a look that promised more to come. “I’ll just bring these to the table for you.”

She heard Grace sigh beside her.

Rocki looked at Teddy, expecting him to pull his usual indignant, overprotective father figure act, only to find him folding the newspaper he’d been reading, and straightening the place mats for Slater, as if her being kissed by a man in this kitchen was a daily occurrence.

Grace wrapped her arm around Rocki’s waist. “That boy of yours must have a golden tongue.”

Rocki flushed. Grace had no idea.

“Teddy took him to the study and I was afraid he would threaten the poor boy’s life. You know how protective he can be when it comes to his little girl, but when they came back to the kitchen they were all buddy, buddy, sharing the paper, and talking sports. Look at them—thick as thieves, setting the table together. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Teddy gave your young man his blessing.”

“Blessing? Blessing for what exactly?” Was it just her or was everyone going mad? The dreamy expression on Grace’s face made her certain they’d all gone nuts. “Stop looking at me like that,” she whispered.

Grace returned to the stove, making more pancakes than any of them knew what to do with. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, young lady. Now, why don’t you get the syrup out of the refrigerator and put it in a pitcher to warm?”

“You’re not getting out of this that easily, Grace.”

The woman gave her a knowing smile that only someone who had changed her diapers could pull off. “No, I don’t expect I will, but right now we have more pressing matters to deal with than your love life—”

“I don’t have a love life.”

“Oh that’s right, these days it’s called a sex life, isn’t it?” Grace clicked her tongue and shook her head before she crossed herself. “Racquel Olivia Sullivan, your mother would be rolling over in her grave if she found out you were having indiscriminate sex—”

“I’m not having sex,” she whispered.

Grace lifted an eyebrow.

Okay, she’d almost had sex, and last she checked that didn’t count. Besides, it’s not as if she planned it. And as far as she was concerned, there would be no more mattress aerobics with Slater. No, she had enough to deal with; she didn’t need to add a man like Slater to the mix.

Rocki left Grace and her eyebrow of truth, and went to collect the silverware and heat the syrup. She just wished the microwave was in a different room.

Setting the pitcher of warm syrup in the middle of the table, Rocki reached around Teddy, giving him a kiss on the cheek and placing his fork and knife on either side of his plate. She moved toward Slater and avoided his gaze. Looking at the man could be dangerous. She stood well away from him, set his knife down, and shrieked when he tugged her onto his lap. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Sweetheart, if you don’t know by now, you’re worse off than I thought.”

Teddy lifted his head and shot Slater a man-to-man grin she’d never seen before. “She’s always been a little on the hardheaded side.”

Grace laughed and set the platter of bacon on the table as if there was nothing at all unusual about the fact that Rocki was trapped on Slater’s lap. “Racquel has always been one to boss everyone around. I used to watch her as a tot and think that the man who ends up with her would certainly have his hands full.”

Slater rested his chin on her shoulder as if the Grace and Teddy Show was the most fascinating thing he’d seen since his first
Playboy
.

Teddy laughed. “Come on, Gracie. You used to look at Racquel and say, ‘I pity the man who marries her.’”

“I never said that—”

“Not to her face. But you certainly said it to me often enough. But then it did take both you and her mother to handle one baby girl. Who knew such a little thing could cause so much trouble?”

Rocki looked from Grace to Teddy and back again. She’d heard it all before—ad nauseam. She’d always known she’d been a nightmare baby. They’d made no secret of it. Hell, half of New Hampshire had heard the stories, but did they have to tell Slater?

Teddy laughed. “We used to call her Stone Face because o
ur little Racquel didn’t smile until she was almost two.”

Grace set the platter of pancakes on the table. “I always thought she was angry because she didn’t come from the womb walking, talking, singing, and dancing.” She took her seat and passed the bacon to Slater with a smile.

When Slater let go of Rocki to grab the bacon, she took the opportunity to slide off his lap and take her own seat.

Grace clucked her tongue. “Racquel rolled over before she was a day old, and at two weeks she managed to crawl from the foot of a king-sized bed to the top in less than five minutes. She started screaming because she was banging her little head on the headboard.” She took a sip of her tea. “I had put the pillows on either side of her because I knew she rolled. I just didn’t know she could crawl.”

Slater put a half dozen slices of bacon on his plate and passed it to Rocki without ever taking his eyes off Grace. “Is that unusual? The crawling part, not the screaming part. Even I know babies cry.”

Grace laughed. “You don’t have much experience with babies, do you?”

Slater shook his head. “None.”

“Most babies don’t start crawling until they’re between six and eight months old. Rocki had always been way ahead of the curve—we had to take down her crib when she was seven months because the little monkey kept climbing out and walking off. By the time she was nine months old, she was running like a racehorse. Lord, I didn’t know if her mother and I would survive her first year.”

Rocki nibbled on a piece of bacon and took a pancake before handing the platter to Slater who, thank the good Lord, took a pile and covered it with syrup. “So what kind of baby were you?”

Slater shrugged. “I have no idea. I don’t remember my parents. I was probably a handful because I got tossed from one foster home to the next until I ended up with Pop.”

Slater didn’t look at any of them; he just stared at his plate and shoveled a vast amount of food into his mouth.

He’d mentioned that not all foster homes were like Pete’s. And from the way he practically shut down, Rocki knew he needed an out. It was just too bad that she wasn’t sure how to give him one. “Well, I guess that saves some embarrassment. No one knows your past but you.” It was the best she could do, but, unfortunately, it didn’t seem to help. It was amazing how a person could be sitting right next to her and still be light-years away.

•   •   •

Slater had never hidden his past—and for the first time in his life, he’d been tempted to. He didn’t want Grace and Teddy to think less of him. Not for his benefit. He wasn’t trying to impress them; he just didn’t want to embarrass Rocki.

He worked on eating, not wanting to see Grace and Teddy look at him and wonder why he’d been dumped by his family, or worse, see pity in their eyes. No, he could handle anything except pity. When Rocki went back to eating, all he felt was relief.

Slater knew what Rocki looked like as a little kid—hell, there were pictures of her all over the house. She was cute, with long blond hair and a mischievous grin. He was able to picture her, but he had no idea what he’d been like.

He always told himself it was better to look ahead than back. Maybe he’d always said that because when he did try to look back, all he got was the blue screen of death. There was nothing there. He remembered a few foster homes—just vague memories of some of the rooms he’d slept in. One house had a dog—Slater remembered him—but then he hadn’t been there for very long.

Slater’s case manager had given him a memory book and made it a point to put photos of foster families in there—not that he ever wanted to see those people again. He’d only kept it because whenever he left a place, she always asked if he’d remembered to bring it. Like he had so many belongings he could actually forget something. Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t even sure what the hell he had done with it. He’d stashed it away when he got to Pop’s place and couldn’t remember seeing it since.

He’d never thought about his lack of memories until now. It wasn’t as if he and his brothers sat around reminiscing about their time in foster care, or in Storm’s case, his life with an abusive prick of a father.

He’d always thought that before moving in with Pop and his brothers, there hadn’t been much worth remembering.

The lack of memories had never bothered him much—until yesterday.

When he’d walked into Jackson’s hospital room he got a rush of something so terrifying it knocked the wind out of him. The only thing keeping him from getting as far away as he could from that hospital room was Rocki. She might not admit it, but he knew by the way she held him all night that she needed him.

He’d slept with his share of women, but not one of them had held on to him like she had. No one had ever made him feel as if he was necessary. Just Rocki. The woman might fight it, but he knew she needed him.

The thought of someone relying on him, of someone needing him—the way Rocki had looked at him that morning as if he were the only person in the world she wanted to be with—should scare the shit out of him. Okay, maybe it did scare him. But if he was afraid of anything it wasn’t of her wanting something from him. He was afraid he’d be incapable of giving her whatever it was she needed—or just not knowing what she needed. He only had one relationship that he thought had been about more than just sex. The only thing he learned from the whole Dominique fiasco was that he was completely clueless. There should be an instruction manual for shit like this.

Rocki had barely touched her food, and when he got the guts to look at Grace and Teddy, instead of looking at him with pity, he found them watching Rocki push her food around her plate.

Worry lines furrowed Grace’s brow, and Teddy had lost the smile he’d worn when he’d teased Rocki about being a nightmare baby.

Rocki pushed her plate away and touched his shoulder. “Are you almost ready to go? I’d like to get back to the hospital when visiting hours begin.”

“Sure.” He checked his watch. “I guess we should leave in about ten minutes then.” Damn, just the thought of going back to the ICU was enough to make his insides turn to liquid. “Why don’t you try to eat a little more?”

Rocki took a sip of her coffee and shook her head. “I’m full.”

He didn’t believe her—he’d seen birds eat more than she did, but he wasn’t about to call her on it.

Thanks to his time in the navy, he’d learned how to eat even when the food sat like lead in his stomach. He shoveled in the rest of his food because the last thing he needed was Rocki wondering why he’d suddenly lost his appetite. She had enough to worry about without him and his newfound fear of hospitals. No, she’d needed him with her last night, and it looked as if she’d need him again today. He would have to buck up, just like he always did. If he concentrated on Rocki, he wouldn’t have to think of all the crap in his own life he’d yet to deal with.

Unfortunately, he’d have to handle it all sooner rather than later. That was something else he’d learned in the navy. Things have a way of biting you in the ass at the most inconvenient times—like meeting a woman who has the ability to seemingly take over your brain function right before you’re supposed to begin a five-year stint in Bahrain. Rocki was nothing if not inconvenient as hell.

There weren’t many women who impressed Slater. He’d always thought he had nearly impossible standards. But after spending the day in the hospital watching Rocki with her brother, he couldn’t help but think she was seriously exceptional.

She went from being all business while meeting with Jackson’s doctors to being the cheerleader at his bedside.

Jackson’s doctors said they’d started weaning him off the medication that was keeping him in the drug-induced coma. All indications were that he should have come around by now, and the longer they spent there, the more tense and agitated Rocki became.

She’d spent the entire day holding Jackson’s hand and regaling him with story after story. Some were about her friends in Red Hook. She talked about the band, Pop, Bree, Nicki, Storm, and the rest of the gang at the Crow’s Nest. Others were about the two of them when they were kids.

Rocki was loving and brave. Slater would have had to be blind not to see how much the act cost her. He saw it in her slightly green pallor, in the way her hand shook when she brought it to her mouth to keep from sobbing, saw it in the way she blinked back tears, never once letting them drop.

Rocki held it together for Jackson, and, hell, maybe even for him because being back in this room had shaken him yet again. The only thing that kept him grounded was the sound of her voice, clear and strong.

Whenever Rocki came close to losing it, she’d start joking. One time she even threatened to hit Jackson over the head with Nicki’s good-luck rock if he didn’t come back to her soon.

Slater couldn’t help but think Jackson was one hell of a lucky guy to have a sister like Rocki fighting so fiercely beside him.

Sibling love was one thing, but Slater had a feeling that if it hadn’t been Jackson, if it had been any of Rocki’s other friends, she’d have done the same thing.

From what he’d seen, when Rocki loved someone, she went for it full steam ahead. There was no holding back, no self-protection that he could see. She might keep much of herself hidden, but that didn’t seem to change the fact that she was totally invested in each of her friends—friends she held as close as family. He saw that in the way she treated Pop, Teddy, Grace, and Nicki. He saw it in everything she did and every smile she bestowed on them—even the way she teased Patrice and Francis.

Slater hid behind his computer in the only other chair in the room, and pretended he was working. Made sure to make keystrokes every now and then. Just when he’d start to feel as if he’d faded into the wallpaper, Rocki would look at him as if she needed to make sure he was still there.

During the torturous day at the hospital, Slater learned more about Rocki than he suspected anyone other than Jackson knew. Rocki would keep going until she fell over but he wasn’t about to let that happen.

“Rocki, it’s time for a break.”

“No, the nurses said I could stay.”

He stood and stretched. “We’ve been here all day and you’ve hardly moved. Come on. Let’s go to the cafeteria and get you something to eat. Teddy and Grace should be here in a few minutes.”

Rocki looked at him with those bright blue eyes full of fear. “You go ahead. I’m not hungry.” She returned her attention to Jackson.

Nope, that wasn’t going to work. Slater stepped between her and the bed and pulled her right out of her chair, trapping her against him. God she felt good. “Sweetheart, you’re going to either take a break and get a bite to eat, or I’m going to take you home. Look at you; you’re shaky from low blood sugar. You didn’t eat a thing at breakfast—”

“I ate pancakes—”

“Pushing food around your plate is not eating.”

She rested her head on his shoulder and her arms tightened around his waist. “What if he doesn’t wake up?” she whispered.

“He will. How could he not? If I knew you were waiting for me, I’d move heaven and earth to get back to you. Jackson loves you. If he’s half the man you think he is, he’ll fight to come back. You’re not going to do him any favors if you refuse to take care of yourself.”

“I don’t want to leave him alone. There’s nothing worse than being alone.”

A flash of memory hit Slater with the speed and force of a meteor. Blinding bright lights, shadows of masked people moving over him. He couldn’t speak—he couldn’t move. When he’d tried, pain radiated through his chest and then the world had gone dark. Alone and scared and then in an instant it was gone. The only remnant was the thundering of his heart, the taste of bile rising in his throat, the sick sense of loss, and the cold sweat that sprang out of nowhere.

“Slater? Slater, you’re shaking. Are you okay?”

Rocki. He pulled her closer and held on tighter, breathing her in, erasing the scent of hospital and disinfectant, if only for a moment.

“Come on, we’re getting out of here. Jax, we’ll be back soon.” She pressed herself against Slater’s side as if she thought he needed help walking, and led him out.

His first instinct was to run, but where the hell would he go? Rocki needed him. He was there for her, not the other way around. He just needed a minute to get his shit together. “I’ll meet you at the cafeteria.”

He brushed her off and headed for the stairs. It would take him a lot less time to run down than to wait for the damn elevator, and if he didn’t get out of there, he might totally lose it.

“Oh no you don’t.” She called his name as he made the first turn in the stairwell.

He jumped over the rail as soon as he was able to on every floor, her footsteps following. He hit the lobby door at a run and forced himself to slow to a fast walk. The sun was setting and the automatic doors weren’t fast enough for him, so he wedged them open. His only thought was to get out. To breathe fresh air. To get the hell away just long enough to make sure he didn’t lose it in front of Rocki.

•   •   •

Rocki had never seen a man move so fast. Slater had literally flown down the stairs. He might as well have sprouted wings. Rocki was fast, taking the steps two or three at a time, but she wasn’t nearly fast enough. By the time she made it to the hospital’s front door, she didn’t know which way to turn and Slater was nowhere in sight.

She didn’t think he’d leave without her. She hoped he wouldn’t but when she thought about the way he’d looked, the terror she’d seen in his eyes, there was really no telling.

She skirted the perimeter of the hospital, turned a corner, and found him leaning against the brick wall, his breath coming out in huge clouds, and his hands pressed against his eyes.

“Slater, it’s just me. Rocki.”

“Fuck.”

She didn’t think he’d be happy to see her, but she’d never heard him curse. He just didn’t seem the type to curse in front of women. Pete was a stickler about that. Hell, he charged her five bucks every time she let one fly.

She didn’t know if she should turn around and leave Slater alone. She knew it was what he’d prefer and she knew just how he felt. She’d never wanted him to see the terror bubbling inside her just waiting to boil over. She would rather have dealt with it alone, but he wouldn’t let that stop him. He’d never once left her side. He didn’t have to do much—hold her hand, put his arm around her—but just by him being there it calmed her. His presence had meant the world to her. He gave her strength when she thought she had none left and it was only right that she returned the favor, whether he liked it or not.

“Flashbacks are a bitch. But it’ll be okay.” She grabbed his wrists and pulled them away from his face. He avoided her eyes, and that was fine. He was a proud man, so she just stepped between his open stance, wrapped his arms around her waist, and once she was sure he wouldn’t push her away, she stepped closer and leaned against him, winding her arms around his neck and holding him. “If you want to talk about it, I’m all ears. If not, that’s okay too. I’m still going to be here.”

He pulled her closer, lifted her off her feet, and buried his face in her hair. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what? Being human?” She took his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. Okay, there was no way on God’s green earth or white earth—since it was currently covered with snow—that she could force the man to do much of anything. He was probably the strongest man she knew, aside from Francis, but he was nice enough to go along with it. His eyes were glassy, bloodshot, and so wary. She did the only thing she knew would help him. She kissed him.

Rocki thought she was prepared for the kiss; after all she’d initiated it. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t kissed before—heck, they’d spent a pretty good amount of time lip-locked just that morning. Granted, he was the best kisser she’d ever known, but nothing could have prepared her for the strength of the connection she’d felt when her mouth met his, for the electricity that buzzed through her, the way his muscles trembled at her touch, and the sense of possession she felt.

Slater took the kiss and turbocharged it. She wanted to be a balm to soothe his soul; instead he’d turned it around and lit a fire inside her. He’d taken what she had to give, added it to whatever energy he had, and turned it into something entirely different. It was raw, it was powerful, it was frightening, and it was oh so good, so natural, so damn satisfying she couldn’t pull away if she’d wanted to.

He dragged his lips from hers, his breath rushing from his mouth like a wisp of smoke. “Are Grace and Teddy here?”

“Yes, I saw them in the waiting room.”

“Good.” He didn’t bother putting her down; he just stepped away from the building, grabbed her ass, and wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Where are we going?”

“Back to the mansion to finish what we started this morning.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“Probably not.” His steps didn’t slow. He looked at her as if there was no one else in the entire world that he’d wanted as badly as he wanted her. He held her as if she was the most precious thing in his life. “All I know is that right now, I don’t care about anything but you. I don’t want to think about anyone but you. I need you, Rocki.”

“Then let’s go, because I need you too.”

Slater kissed her all the way to the car and then set her in the seat without her feet ever touching the ground.

She didn’t know what it was about him, but she had a feeling that even if he’d set her down, she’d still be floating.

The look in his eyes shot so much heat through her, she was melting from the inside out. It didn’t matter that neither of them had coats; before Slater even hit the driver’s seat, the windows were fogging over.

She reached for him, and before she knew it, his seat was pushed back and she was straddling him. They were eye to eye, and she couldn’t look away. She’d heard people say they’d gotten lost in someone’s eyes; she’d just never understood it. Not until now.

Slater’s hands wrapped around her waist and slid under her sweater. Her stomach muscles tensed and he drew her closer, surging up and hitting that perfect spot. She let out a groan and then his hands traveled up, flicked the front clasp of her bra open, and the next thing she knew her sweater was off, his mouth was on her, and her hands were tangled in his hair. “Slater? Oh God, Slater.”

She’d never been one to go off without a hell of a lot of work on the part of her partner, and she’d never once come close with her pants on, but then she’d never known a man like Slater either. He seemed to read her mind, giving everything she needed and more. His mouth on one breast, his hand on the other. Every tug on her breast was met with a roll of his hips; together it was magical. Then he dipped his other hand into the waistband of her pants, cupping her ass, sliding his fingers over the crack, a little naughty, a little hot, and a lot unexpected. He’d worked her up so high, she had no idea she could even go there. Nothing but nothing could have prepared her for the way she went off. When she opened her eyes, she looked in his, and while she felt all wonderful and floaty, he looked as if he was in some serious pain. “Are you okay?”

“Not as good as you are, but damn, it just about killed me not to join you.”

“Oh God, I’m sorry.” She pressed her face to his shoulder and he kissed the top of her head.

“Nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. The great thing about being a woman is that you can come three, four, five times at a go.”

Seriously? “Where? In Fantasy Land?” She lifted her head and all she saw in his eyes was confidence, certainty, and conviction. She didn’t believe it. She wasn’t sure why she’d gotten off—that had been one heck of a shock. Maybe it had been the heat of the moment or maybe it was because she’d had the world’s longest dry spell, but whatever the reason, when it came to sex, she’d always been more than satisfied if she even came close to having one orgasm. They’d always been elusive little suckers. Two orgasms were unheard of, and a hat trick was nothing less than a chimera.

The corner of Slater’s mouth quirked right before he kissed her and revved her engine just enough to make her wonder if a hat trick was a possibility. She was certain of one thing: She’d have a hell of a time giving Slater free rein to try.

Slater slid her bra straps over her shoulders and fastened the front clasp without a hint of fumbling—he was definitely gifted in the manual dexterity department. She wanted to smack her own head. Slater Shaw was gifted in every department. He helped her into her sweater, kissed her, and then lifted her off his lap and set her in her seat.

•   •   •

Slater was sweating. He wasn’t sure if it was the whole hospital thing or if it was the way Rocki squirmed in her seat. The fact that she was still squirming was enough to leave him throbbing.

It had been bad enough when she’d given him his own personal lap dance in his father’s car, of all places, but then she’d gone off like a Roman candle and it was all he could do not to embarrass himself. Thinking about it, remembering the way she looked when she shuddered in his arms had him writing complicated code just to keep his breathing under control.

He drove, doing his best to keep his inner Stig under wraps, and pretended instead that he was an octogenarian on a leisurely Sunday drive. It was a total cop-out, but he needed a minute, or an hour. He didn’t trust himself not to pick her up, throw her over his shoulder, and carry her to bed like some knuckle dragger.