Bad Boys of Red Hook [2] You're the One

by Robin Kaye

  Logan looked around the opulent suite and shook his head. It looked as cold as Payton. He needed to leave before he said something he’d regret. He started toward the door.

  Her eyes widened—she must have realized he was serious. “Logan, you can’t do this.”

  “I just did.”

  “That girl means more to you than I do? She might not even be yours.”

  “Nicki means the world to me.” He wasn’t sure what Payton meant to him, but it was definitely not enough anymore. He’d always known she was far from perfect—he’d known she was a little on the superficial side—but he’d never known her to be cruel and hateful. Right now, looking at her, he wondered if she’d been this way the whole time and he’d never noticed.

  “Do you actually think you’ll still have a job without me?”

  “Payton, I don’t care. Nicki means more to me than any job. I know what it feels like to be unwanted, to be tossed aside like day-old garbage, and I’d never do that to Nicki, nor will I be with someone who could.”

  She stared at him with a stunned expression, her mouth hanging open.

  He headed to the door, opened it, and took one last look at her. “Have a nice life, Payton.”

  * * *

  “Looks like the chocolate fairies haven’t visited, which is a damn shame.” Skye needed a chocolate fix—bad. She shut the cabinet door. She might not have any on hand, but there was plenty at the restaurant. Still, that would mean she’d have to put shoes on and go out after already changing for bed. She wore sweatpants and the huge Pratt sweatshirt she’d picked up at the thrift store and cut the neck out of. Not very attractive but comfy, and right now that counted for a lot.

  She’d been in a bad mood ever since Logan had taken Payton back to the hotel. Wendy said dinner had been a clusterfuck. Fortunately for Skye, it had nothing to do with the food. Still, she wondered what was going on. Wendy had said the tension in Pete’s apartment was so thick, it was like breathing in pea soup. Poor Nicki. The kid had enough problems without having to deal with an uncomfortable situation like that.

  Skye put the sleeping puppy in her crate, grabbed her keys, and headed to the Crow’s Nest. Less than a minute later, she let herself into the restaurant’s dark kitchen. She switched on the lights and opened the walk-in to grab a piece of the double-chocolate cake. The only thing that would make it better was whipped cream, but she wasn’t in the mood to make it.

  A smile crossed her face. They had to have some Reddi-wip behind the bar. She just needed a squirt. She grabbed the embarrassingly large slab of cake and kicked open the swinging kitchen doors only to have them slap back. The cake splattered against her chest, some of it falling down the front. She looked up to find Logan staring at her.

  “Are you okay? I saw the lights and thought someone had broken in.”

  “I’m fine except I think the chocolate gods are against me. I’m a mess.” She leaned over and peeled her shirt off the squished cake. There was no polite way to grab the hunk that was now plastered to her chest and firmly lodged between her breasts. “What are you doing here?”

  He motioned to the bottle of tequila and the glass on the bar. “Just thinking and drinking. You?”

  “Chocolate fix.” She grabbed a piece of cake hanging off her sweatshirt and, with a shrug, popped it in her mouth. “I was just coming out for whipped cream.”

  He motioned her over to the bar. “Are you willing to share?”

  “Smashed cake?” She held the plate toward him. “Sure, why not?”

  “Let’s get that whipped cream.” He put his hand on the small of her back and led her to the bar. “Take a seat.” He went around and grabbed the can of Reddi-wip, and then took a seat beside her.

  “So what are you thinking about?”

  “Life. Payton and I called it quits tonight.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” She really wasn’t, but then she could hardly say “yippee,” could she?

  “I’m not.” He stared at the now-empty tequila glass, rolling it between his palms. “Payton was willing to overlook my humble beginnings and Nicki. I’m not willing to overlook Nicki.”

  “Nicki?”

  His gaze met hers. “You don’t know?”

  “I guess not, since I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”

  “That’s surprising. I thought by now Patrice or Rocki would have filled you in on all the gossip.”

  “I don’t encourage gossip.”

  “Nicki might be my daughter. And before you say anything, I didn’t know Nicki even existed until Storm came back to Red Hook after Pop got sick. I didn’t find out that she could be mine until I got here. I guess Pop figured that would be an awkward phone conversation. Nicki doesn’t know anything about any of this yet. I’m waiting for the paternity test before I tell her.”

  “And Payton wasn’t happy to have a ready-made family?”

  “Not happy would be an understatement. I called off the engagement and told her to have a nice life.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “Would it be rude to say I feel relieved as hell?”

  “Not rude—just honest.”

  “It’s crazy. In one fell swoop my life has veered off course. A month ago I had a job I loved, an incredible home, a fiancée who I thought was the perfect partner. It was fine until I got home.” He shook his head wondering what the hell it all meant. “I should feel something.” He looked into her eyes for a long time, as if she held all the answers. “I don’t know, Skye. I guess coming home made me look at my life and I realized I’ve just been going through the motions.”

  “How much have you had to drink?”

  “Just one. Why?”

  “No reason.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Fine.” She rested her forearms on the bar and turned her head to look at him. “I wondered if you were sober enough to know what you feel.”

  “It’s been a long time since I felt much of anything. I came home over a month ago and in that time I’ve realized that what Payton and I had wasn’t what it should be.”

  “How so?”

  “I don’t love her. I never have. I really thought I was incapable of love. But I love Nicki. I love Pop and my brothers—”

  “You were going to marry someone you don’t love?”

  “Yes, I was.” He ran his hand through his hair. “It was stupid, but we worked well together. I figured that made us a good match. I worked for her family. We’d been going out since we were in college and we didn’t make each other miserable. It made a weird kind of sense. I never knew I could feel…I thought I was incapable of feeling.”

  “What happened?”

  “Other than Nicki?”

  She nodded.

  “I was at my brother’s wedding, and it hit me. Payton and I didn’t have the connection that Bree and Storm do. Not even close. Hell, I’d been here for weeks and I didn’t even miss her. That’s not right.”

  “Did you ever have that kind of connection with her?”

  He shook his head.

  “Have you ever had that kind of connection with anyone else?”

  “Yes, I think so, but I never acted on it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because until a few hours ago, I was engaged to someone else, and I don’t cheat.”

  She couldn’t help but wonder who the lucky woman was. “You’re not engaged now. You’re free to do whatever you want.” She reached across the bar for the can of Reddi-wip and gave it a good shake. She squirted it all over what was left of her cake and then thought the hell with it—she tipped her head back, opened her mouth, and filled it with whipped cream.

  “You think I should do whatever I want?”

  Shit, all the whipped cream in the world wasn’t going to satisfy the craving his voice alone sparked within her. She swallowed and licked her lips. “Sure, it isn’t like you’re hung up on Payton, right?”

  “No, definitely not.”

  She took anoth
er shot of Reddi-wip to keep from asking who he was hung up on.

  “I thought you were going to share.” He spun the stool around midshot and before she even knew what was happening, he kissed her.

  * * *

  The taste of Reddi-wip exploded on his tongue as it slid over Skye’s lips. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t pull away. She didn’t move closer either.

  His hand slipped under the fall of her hair, caressing the back of her neck, and he felt her swallow. He teased her lips, nibbling, asking for permission to enter.

  Her mouth opened under his—cold and then, God, oh so hot.

  Something hit the bar, probably the can of whipped cream. Her hand grabbed his shoulder and their tongues tangled. She tasted like chocolate and whipped cream and something else that was quintessentially her. He could kiss her all day.

  He pulled away and her eyes opened. Her dark lashes created shadows on her cheeks from the overhead lights, her lips berry red and slightly swollen, her face flushed.

  “I’ve wanted to taste you since the first moment I saw you.” He slid one finger from the top of her cleavage, scooping up double-chocolate icing, and brought it to his mouth, sucking the icing off. “You taste really good.”

  “It’s the chocolate.”

  “I don’t think so.” He nuzzled her ear, drinking in her scent—no smoke, no cosmetics, no perfume—just the scent of chocolate, Reddi-wip, and Skye. He nipped her earlobe, and then sucked. “Nope, I was right. It’s you. You taste sweet, hot, and sinful.”

  He continued to kiss his way down her neck. Her fingers scissored though his hair and over his scalp, sending sparks of need right to his dick. Her pulse pounded beneath his lips. He raked his teeth over it and licked his way to the chocolate between her breasts, cleaning off all remnants of cake and frosting. Her back arched over his arm, allowing him access to whatever he wanted.

  Logan tugged her against him, chest to chest, and her legs slid around his, opening herself to him. His need rioted against his better sense. All he wanted to do was toss her onto the bar, peel off her clothing, and create a Reddi-wip bikini so he could spend the rest of the night licking it off. He settled for another kiss, taking her mouth the way he wanted to take her body—hot, hard, and relentless. His hand tucked into the waistband of her baggy sweatpants, pulling her against him, swallowing her groan when she came into contact with his erection.

  Her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs around his waist, and he slid his hands under her ass when the sound of squirting whipped cream broke through their heavy breathing.

  Skye pushed him away so hard, he hit the stool beside him. “Oh God. I’m sorry. I…” She pulled the neck of her sweatshirt up, covering her cleavage, while he did his best to protect her modesty and the family jewels. Skye was strong, embarrassed, and, from the way her dark blue eyes shone, pissed as hell.

  He didn’t need to look to know who was standing on the other side of the bar. He did anyway. “Pop.”

  The old man let out a shotgun laugh. “Oh, don’t mind me. I just came down for some cake. It needed whipped cream.” He kept his eyes on the plate of smashed cake and wilted whipped cream on the bar. “Looks like you two had the same idea—initially at least.”

  Skye slid off the stool and ran into the kitchen.

  Logan took off after her.

  “Logan. Let her go.”

  He stopped and spun around. “What the hell were you thinking sneaking up on us like that?”

  “What the hell were you thinking taking advantage of Skye?”

  “I wasn’t taking advantage of her.”

  “Weren’t you?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “I take it you eighty-sixed the blow-up doll?”

  “Of course I did. I’m no cheater.”

  Pop looked him square in the eye and Logan cursed his luck. He was in for another one of Pop’s talks when all he wanted to do was make sure Skye was all right.

  “I gotta admit whipped cream looks better on you than lipstick, but damn, Logan, Skye is my cook. I like her and I don’t want to lose her. Don’t forget she has problems of her own. She might be keeping them in her pocket, but that doesn’t mean they’re not there. The last thing she needs is to be your rebound girl.”

  “You said yourself I never loved Payton.”

  “Just because you never loved her doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been with her for years. No matter what, you don’t go from being engaged to single without some kind of emotional backlash.”

  “The only backlash I’m having is a profound sense of relief.”

  “So you thought you’d celebrate by making Skye your very own hot fudge sundae? Ever hear the old saying ‘Don’t shit where you eat’?”

  “That doesn’t apply. I’m only working here until Bree comes home.”

  “And what are you going to do then?”

  “Hell, I don’t know.” He sat, rubbed the back of his neck and then poured another tequila. “I just lost my job, my home, and everything I’ve worked for since I left school.”

  “Another reason this is not the time to jump Skye.”

  “I wasn’t jumping her.”

  “You were about to.”

  And he still wanted to. “It’s not as if I’m leaving. I have Nicki to think of now. I can’t just uproot her after everything she’s been through.”

  “Don’t go counting your chick before the paternity test comes back.”

  He took a sip and looked over the rim of his glass to his father. “Nicki needs a father. She needs a family.”

  “Logan, if you’re not her father, we’ll have to reevaluate. For all we know, she could be anyone’s daughter—even Slater’s.”

  Logan laughed at that. “Unless Marisa had a motherboard and a USB port I didn’t discover, Slater wouldn’t have looked twice at her.”

  “Come on, Slater might have been the ultimate computer geek, but he was still a boy. Every boy will look and touch if presented with the opportunity. Besides, I thought before that Nicki was Storm’s, which taught me not to jump to conclusions when it comes to you boys. You always end up surprising me. Until we find out differently, Nicki’s nothing more than your little sister.”

  “She feels like more.”

  “She feels like more to Bree and Storm too. That don’t make Nicki their daughter.”

  “I’m not going to say anything to Nicki until I have confirmation.”

  “Good.” Pop took another bite of his whipped-cream-covered cake. “Since you’ve lost your job, have you thought about what you’re going to do with yourself?”

  “No.”

  “I suggest you spend some time thinking about your future with or without Nicki before you start something with Skye.”

  “I like her, Pop.” A lot more than he cared to admit. With Skye, he felt things he’d never felt before. Possessiveness, protectiveness, and intense pleasure, well, until his father had shown up.

  “And it doesn’t hurt that she’s gorgeous.”

  “No, that certainly doesn’t hurt.”

  “I’m not telling you to back off completely. I’m just suggesting you take it slow. Make sure what you are doing with Skye is an action and not a reaction to your newfound freedom.”

  He refilled his tequila, took a big gulp, and felt the burn all the way down. “It’s not. But fine. I’ll take things slow—that is, if she ever speaks to me again.”

  Pop nodded and headed back to the apartment, leaving him alone in the darkened bar with his bottle of tequila—a poor substitute for chocolate, Reddi-wip, and Skye.

  * * *

  Skye ran into her apartment, past the puppy’s crate, and headed straight for the shower to wash off the scent of Logan.

  She pulled off her sweatshirt and tossed it on the floor along with her chocolate-stained bra—not that he hadn’t done his best to clean it off.

  Her face was the color of a cherry tomato; she wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or residual sexual frustration. How could
she have been so stupid? God, she’d gone to the restaurant for a chocolate fix, and ended up with a fix of a totally different kind, with a man who, though now thankfully disengaged, was still on the do-not-touch list.

  She adjusted the water, stepped into the shower, and was tempted to thunk her head against the tile. How the hell was she going to get out of this situation? She’d put her job and her fresh start on the line for a hot, chocolate-induced make-out session with her boss, only to get caught by the owner of the restaurant.

  The last thing she needed was people wondering if she had slept her way into the job. Besides, she loved working at the Crow’s Nest, she loved her apartment, she loved Pepperoni, and she felt appreciated for her talent for the first time in her life. She wasn’t willing to give that up and go home a failure. She scrubbed every inch of her body and turned off the water. Unfortunately, she couldn’t scrub out the memories of the way Logan kissed her, his scent, his taste, or the feel of him against her.

  She wrapped herself in a towel, threw her clothes in the washer, grabbed her phone, and speed-dialed Kelly.

  “It’s about time you got in touch with me. I was just about to send out a search party.”

  “Sorry.” She sat on the edge of her bed and slid on her panties. “I got a job, an apartment, and a puppy.”

  “Wow, you do work fast. I didn’t know you wanted a puppy.”

  “I didn’t. The job kinda came with the apartment and puppy. It’s a long story.” She pulled her only other sweatshirt over her head and curled up under the down comforter.

  “So you have your own kitchen—other than the one in your apartment?”

  “Yes, and although the pay isn’t great, it’s a wonderful spot. I’m appreciated—or I was until tonight.”

  “What happened?”

  “That’s an even longer story. Suffice it to say the owner caught me making out with his son, who is, temporarily at least, my boss.”

  “Is he hot?”

  “Kelly!”

  “Okay, he must be off the charts hot for you to put your job on the line like that.”

  She groaned and ran a towel over her still wet hair. “God, my job isn’t even the worst part.”