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

by Robin Kaye

It was never going to be all right.

  Home was in the rearview mirror, slipping farther and farther away.

  She was leaving Red Hook, she was leaving Nicki, she was leaving Logan, but most of all, she was leaving her heart.

  * * *

  If there were a Biggest Loser for relationships, Logan would win hands down.

  He looked around the ballroom crowded with ten-top tables and people dressed as if they were walking the red carpet instead of gathering to judge wines and give awards. Awards that could make or break a vineyard. Awards that would be heralded and talked about by wine snobs around the world.

  He had nothing against wine snobs—hell, he was one. But winning all the awards in front of him wasn’t worth losing the one person who brought him love, happiness, and total fulfillment. Nothing was worth losing Skye.

  A camera flash momentarily blinded him.

  “Payton, give Logan a kiss for the Web site.” The blurry photographer’s voice sounded across the table. “We missed the congratulatory kiss.”

  “No.” Coming here, doing his duty, wasn’t worth losing Skye. He tugged the tail of his bow tie and stood. “I’m sorry, I have a family emergency. I have to go.”

  Payton pushed away from the table, wrapping her arm around his waist. “Not now,” she said through her fake cover-girl smile. “Don’t you dare embarrass me.”

  He leaned in and whispered in her ear through clenched teeth. “Not everything is about you. I have to go. If you don’t want to cause a scene, I suggest you say good-bye and smile.”

  “I’m coming with you.” She grabbed the joke of a purse and slid the chain over her shoulder.

  He couldn’t deal with this. He may have won best in show and best red, but he was the biggest loser on the face of the earth. He was whipped, weary, worried, and pissed. He should have put his foot down. Hell, he should never have come in the first place. His wines would have won whether he’d been there or not.

  “Walt, I’ve got to go. Alone. Now.” God, he hoped he wasn’t too late.

  Walt stood beside Payton and put his beefy hand on her shoulder. “That’s enough, Payton. Let him go.” He gave Logan an apologetic grin. “Good luck, Logan. I wish you the best. Let me know if you need anything—letters of recommendation, help with funding—anything. You’ll always have a place at Billingsly. You have a safe trip back, keep in touch, and think about what I said, my friend.”

  He reached around Payton and shook her father’s hand. “I will, and I expect you to hold up your side of the bargain.”

  Walt gave him a firm shake and a nod. “You can count on it.”

  Logan left the room without a backward glance and started running as soon as he hit the hall. He had his jacket off before he reached the elevator and within three minutes he had his bags and was headed to the airport. “I’ll give you an extra hundred if you get me to the terminal in a half hour.”

  He made the last flight out and was in a cab at Newark by a quarter to six the next morning. He pulled up to Skye’s place just before seven and used his key to get in. Pepperoni ran out of the bedroom and did a full-body wag. “Shh, calm down. I’ll take you out in a minute.”

  He put his bags down, tossed his jacket on the back of the chair, and headed toward the bedroom. He heard a huge snore. A man’s snore. “Just what the fuck is going on here?” He walked through the bedroom door, pushing it open harder than necessary so it bounced off the doorstop.

  A big, naked man shot up in bed.

  “Rex?”

  Rex pulled the sheet over him. “Shit, Logan. What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Where is she?”

  “Who?”

  “Skye, damn it. Where is she?”

  “She’s gone, man. She called Friday night, said I got my job back and needed to start Tuesday. I drove straight from Florida and got in about two this morning. She left the keys on the table like she said she would. Pepperoni was having a sleepover with Nicki. I came home and fell into bed. The apartment’s spotless and the refrigerator is stocked. She even put clean sheets on the bed. Nice girl, that Skye.”

  Pepperoni chased her tail at Logan’s feet, spinning crazy circles at high speeds.

  He looked around the room—she’d taken everything, her clothes, her books, her warmth, even her scent. There wasn’t one sign that she’d ever stepped foot in here. Not one sign that everything they shared here, everything he’d felt, everything he dreamed and based his future on, ever existed.

  All the energy drained from Logan’s body like water out of a tub, leaving him empty.

  Hollow.

  Alone.

  Numb.

  He stumbled back and sat on the chair that Skye used to use as a clothes rack and stared at Rex without seeing him. “She left? I missed her?”

  “I guess. She said something about having to leave. Slater dropped Pepperoni off about an hour ago, after her morning constitutional.” Rex dragged the sheet around him and got up. “Hey, man. Are you okay? You don’t look too good. You want I should make you something to eat? You look real pale.”

  Logan just stared into Pepperoni’s eyes. “She left? She’s just gone?”

  “Dude, like I said, Skye called Friday night, said she was leaving, and that Pepperoni was at Pete’s. That’s all I know. Maybe Pete knows more.”

  He pushed himself out of the chair and fought for breath as he escaped the bedroom.

  “Logan, are you gonna be okay?”

  Fuck no. But he didn’t say that. “Yeah, I’m good. Just tired. I caught the red-eye. I’m sorry I woke you.” He took the keys to the apartment off his ring and put them on the table.

  “No problem. And hey, if you talk to Skye, tell her thanks for taking care of Pepperoni.”

  Logan had a feeling he wouldn’t be talking to Skye anytime soon. He’d called, texted, and e-mailed her a hundred times between the time he’d gotten smacked by Kelly and when he was told to turn off all his electronic devices on the plane. When he got her voice mail, he left messages until her mailbox was full.

  A few minutes later he found himself sitting at his desk. He didn’t remember coming in. He just blinked and there he was, staring at a registered letter addressed to him. Nicki’s paternity test.

  Logan took a deep breath, broke the seal, slit the envelope open, and stared at it until the results blurred. His eyes burned. His throat constricted and pressure crushed his chest, making it almost impossible to breathe.

  Negative.

  The paper slid out of his numb fingers and crashed like a wrecking ball through whatever was left of his world.

  * * *

  Logan climbed the stairs to the apartment wondering what the hell he was going to do with his life. All he knew was that he needed to be there for Nicki. No matter what that test said, he loved her. He’d promised he’d always be there for her, and he always kept his promises.

  He put on his game face and when he opened the door was attacked by D.O.G. “Hey, boy, where’s Nicki?”

  “Right here.” Nicki was curled up on the couch in her pink nightgown.

  “Hey, kiddo, what are you doing?” Something was wrong. Nicki’s face was pale and drawn. The look in her eyes was one he’d seen in his own. One he’d seen in his brothers’, and in the eyes of other kids in foster care. It was the look of loss, fear, rejection, and hopelessness. On top of that, she looked sick.

  “Nicki? Are you okay?” He felt her forehead. Not that he knew what he was doing, but her forehead didn’t feel any hotter than his—he didn’t think she had a fever. He sat beside her and she climbed on his lap. “What’s the matter, baby?”

  “Skye left.” Nicki’s eyes filled, then overflowed. “I’m sorry, Logan. I didn’t mean to make her leave. I was as good as I know how to be. I tried, I really did—”

  “Oh, baby, no. Skye didn’t leave because of you. She loves you. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the reason Skye left. I’m the one who screwed up.” He thought that would have helped, but it se
emed to make things worse. He’d seen Nicki cry when she fell and hurt herself, but he’d never seen her cry like this. Like her heart was breaking. He felt like the biggest bastard on the face of the earth.

  Her little body was racked with sobs. He was afraid she was going to make herself sick. “Nicki, calm down. It’s okay.”

  “No.” She fought for control, hiccuping, trying to catch her breath. “I…I was so mean to her.”

  He held her and rocked her and rubbed her back. Powerless to make things better, which really sucked because he caused the whole damn thing.

  She wiped her face on her sleeve, hiccuped a few times, and took a deep breath. “Skye came to say good-bye and I told her to go like I didn’t care. Logan, I just didn’t want her to leave.”

  “I know, Nicki. I know and Skye knows. It’ll be okay.”

  “No, it won’t. I was mean. I told her to leave. I told her we didn’t need her. And Slater…”

  “What about Slater?”

  “He called her names and made her cry.”

  He’d deal with Slater later. “Nicki, I know Skye loves you, and she understands. You can call her and tell her you’re sorry. How’s that sound?”

  “Did you?” Her tears slowed, and she stopped gasping, just hiccuping every once in a while.

  “Yes. She’s not answering her phone. I didn’t mean to, but I think I hurt her pretty bad.”

  “Did you leave her a message?”

  “About a hundred of them. She won’t talk to me.”

  Nicki rubbed her wet face on his shirt and rested her head on his chest. “How are you supposed to make up if she won’t talk to you?”

  “Good question. I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  He ran his hand over her hair and down her back until she quieted. Her hold on him relaxed, and the next time he looked down, she was asleep. He knew he should put her back in bed; the poor kid probably didn’t get much sleep last night. A guilty conscience and sleep usually didn’t mix well.

  He held Nicki close, knowing that somewhere out there was the man who fathered her and had the ability to take her away from him. But for now, he’d hold her, listen to her deep, even breaths, watch her sleep, and memorize her face. He studied the way her nose was pointed at the very tip and the little divot above her Cupid’s bow top lip, her mouth that smiled bright enough to light a room, her strong chin that quivered when she cried, or could rise to a haughty angle, and her large almond-shaped eyes that could shoot daggers at him one minute and melt his heart the next. He could watch her for the rest of his life and never tire of seeing her. She was still so little, so innocent, so intelligent, and she wasn’t his.

  He wiped away the wetness on his cheek and realized he’d been crying. He couldn’t remember ever crying before. Maybe it was because he’d needed a heart to cry, and he hadn’t had one until Nicki and Skye had given him theirs. Now that he’d lost them both, he wasn’t sure he wanted his heart. Before, he didn’t feel much, which wasn’t so bad; at least then he’d never felt this kind of pain.

  He must have nodded off, because the next thing he knew, Pop was standing over them. Looking like the worried grandfather and father he was. Logan had no idea how Pop knew about the results of the test—the envelope had been sealed. What did it matter? He and his brothers stopped questioning Pop’s methods of information extraction years ago. It was a waste of time. Pop knew, and like always, Pop had known he wouldn’t take the news well.

  Pop didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just gave his shoulder a squeeze and damned if Logan didn’t feel his eyes sting again. Shit, he’d never felt as devastated as he did when he’d opened that envelope and seen the results. Pop had warned him. Pop had told him there was a chance Nicki wasn’t his, but he hadn’t listened. He didn’t think it was possible to love someone so much. He thought their connection was a genetic thing. A man knows his child—well, apparently not. He picked up Nicki and carried her to bed. She didn’t stir when he laid her down. He tucked her in with her bear, and tiptoed out, closing the door behind him.

  Pop was in the kitchen pouring coffee. He turned and handed Logan a cup. “You’re home a day early.”

  “Not early enough. Skye’s gone.” He took a sip and tried to wake up. He hadn’t slept since before he left.

  Pop set his coffee down and gave him a look he must have given to hundreds of criminals he’d arrested. It was the kind of look that made him want to run for cover—if he were fifteen years younger, he would have. Pop stepped forward, got right up in his face, and Logan did what any sane man would do when his dad tossed him in the center of the ring—he puffed out his chest and backed up. “Do you want to explain to me what the hell you were doing with Payton, when your girlfriend was living under my roof, covering for you at the restaurant, and taking care of Nicki? Because right now, son, I don’t know what to believe. Unless all those photographs of you and Payton together are fakes, it looks to me like I raised a good-for-nothing, low-life, cheating son of a bitch.”

  Logan’s face heated and felt as if it were scalded.

  Pop’s expression morphed from pissed to disgusted and landed firmly in the land of disappointment. Logan hadn’t seen that look since he first moved in, since the day Pop caught him with the Latin Kings. He never forgot the embarrassment, the shame, the humiliation, and he’d sworn he’d never feel that way again. He’d been wrong.

  “I didn’t cheat. I flew back to California, went to my house, and found Payton in my bed. She never told anyone we’d called off the wedding. She decided to take me back.”

  “Lucky you. So you just went along with it? Did you jump right back into bed with her?”

  “No. What the hell do you think I am?”

  Pop shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. “When Skye showed me those pictures, I couldn’t blame the girl for leaving. You broke her heart.”

  “I slept in the guest room. Skye knows that. We were on the phone when I discovered Payton hadn’t moved out.”

  “So what the hell were those pictures of you kissing Payton?”

  “Friday, I met with Walt, tendered my resignation, and told him the wedding was off. Walt asked me not to say anything about the breakup until after the awards. He had a feeling we were going to win, and he wanted the news to be about the wine, not about Payton and me. I agreed as a favor to him. He’s going to announce our breakup in the next few days.”

  “So you just pretended to still be engaged without telling your girlfriend? Did you ever think that she wouldn’t know you were pretending? Did you ever think how it would look to her? How she’d feel? Skye thinks you and Payton are back together.”

  “I was going to call her and explain everything, but Skye’s friend Kelly saw Payton and me having lunch with Walt at the club before we flew to Portland. She told Skye before I could; then she slapped me.”

  Pop laughed. “I think I’m gonna like this girl, Kelly. Sounds like Skye’s going to do all right. Skye’s brothers came all the way out here to get her. It’s a good thing you were on the other side of the country or I have a feeling I’d be visiting you in the hospital. Not that I don’t think you belong there myself.”

  “I didn’t cheat on Skye.”

  “Oh, you cheated all right, you just didn’t sleep with your ex. How would you feel if you saw Skye plastered all over some guy, kissing him in public? You know, Logan, you’re living proof that a high IQ is not a good measure of intelligence, because, son, you just pulled the stupidest stunt I’ve ever seen.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Pete slid behind the bar and stood beside his bottle of Macallan 18. He scanned the floor looking for Bree and smiled when he realized she must still be in the office. She and Storm had been back for a week and she was already on his case. He loved his daughter-in-law, but the girl was a total pain in the ass when it came to his not drinking. He poured a scotch and took a swig while he watched Logan in the mirror’s reflection. Logan didn’t handle rejection well—even when he dese
rved it. He’d retreated into the same damn shell in which he’d spent his entire life. Someone had to do something and it looked as if, like usual, it fell on him. He looked at the drink in hand and wished he’d poured a double. Logan sat at a booth, just like he did every night, staring into his glass.

  Francis caught his eye and took a seat in front of him at the bar. “He’s looking over the plans for the warehouse.”

  “I’m not blind, Francis. I got a bum ticker, but my eyes are just fine.”

  Francis scratched the frost off his beer mug. “He won’t talk to me about it. I’ve tried, man. You need to do something.”

  “He hasn’t spoken much to anyone except Nicki.”

  They watched Logan get rid of the woman trying to get his attention. He either blew off or completely ignored every woman who went after him.

  Francis shook his head. “He’s got girls fallin’ all over him.”

  “Not the one he wants, and he’s too busy licking his self-inflicted wounds to do anything to correct the situation.”

  “Someone has to talk to him.”

  “Storm tried to get him out of his funk and it almost ended in a fistfight and Slater’s still recovering from the ‘talk’ Logan had with him about the way he’d treated Skye before she ran off.” Pete shook his head. “My boys have come a long way, but when emotions are involved, I wonder if they’ve changed at all since the day I took them in. One major emotional hit and they land right back where they started.”

  Francis took a sip of his beer and nodded. “Yeah, and Logan’s had a double whammy. Man, it was like he lost Skye and Nicki in one day. He loves that little girl. Speaking of which, have you said anything to Slater yet?”

  “No, I didn’t want to rub any salt in Logan’s wounds. Besides, it’s important for Slater and Nicki to get to know each other better.”

  “Slater’s got to be blind not to see the resemblance. I don’t know how we didn’t see it from the beginning.”

  “I know, when you see the two of them together, the similarities are striking, but until I did, I never put it together. I must be getting old. Hell, I feel fuckin’ ancient.” He sat on the stool beside Francis, where he could keep an eye on Logan.