by Robin Kaye
“You don’t know that, Patty. Maybe he’s just taking an interest in his community, just like we are. You can’t fault the progress the committee has made.”
“No, and he’s not complaining about the increased value of his real estate holdings. And if the Harbor Pier gets off the ground…”
“The Harbor Pier?” Storm’s ears perked up.
“Yeah, Daniel and Bree are spearheading a program to get the city to buy one of the old piers to be used as a park with stores and condos surrounding it. It would be great for the community, and Daniel is right there with Bree. Seems to me he’s orchestrating everything, and I have a bad feeling about it.”
“Why?”
Patrice shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s nothing I can put my finger on—just female intuition, I guess.”
Francis looked up from his drink. “I don’t know how she does it, but over the years, I’ve learned not to take Patty’s feelings lightly. She’s usually right, and it’s bitten me in the ass too many times to discount. Still, there’s not a whole hell of a lot we can do about it other than to keep an eye on Knickerbocker.” Francis swirled his half-empty beer around the mug, “Bree is a smart woman, she knows what she’s doing, and she’s been doing a whole lot of good for Red Hook for a long time. Ever since she came home from college, she’s been revitalizing everything she touches.” He motioned around the restaurant. “Look at this place. Hell, she had to sell every single idea to Pete—not an easy job. Whoever said you can’t teach an old dog new tricks never met Bree Collins—she’s made a huge difference with the bar and the community.”
Storm found himself smiling; Bree put her personal stamp on everything and everyone she touched, including him. “She’s always been a dreamer with her head in the clouds and her feet firmly planted in reality.”
Patrice smiled. “You really do know her, don’t you?”
Storm just shrugged. He knew things about Bree no one else did, but he wasn’t going to tell Patrice that. He wasn’t sure what Bree had shared with Patrice. She was a very private person, and she hadn’t had an easy life since the day her father died on the job. Her crazy-ass mother became so intent on keeping Bree safe, she wrapped her in cotton and controlled Bree’s every move—or tried to, making dangerous people like Pete and Storm off-limits. Bree had rebelled, sneaking off every chance she could to spend time with Pete, her father’s partner on the force, and the closest thing to a father she had after his death. For a long time Bree was just a fixture in Storm’s life, until the summer after he graduated from high school.
“You two used to date, didn’t you?”
“No, Bree was like one of Pete’s kids.”
Until the day when all of a sudden Bree had become a whole lot more than a fixture—she’d become a focus, a fantasy. And Storm had become a fool—a fool for her.
“That’s not what it looked like from where I was sitting.”
“That’s ancient history.” No matter how Storm had tried to ignore Breezy, no matter how he’d tried to treat her the same way he had before, something had changed. He couldn’t say how or when it happened. He just remembered one day she’d snuck out and come to Pete’s, and what began as a friendly hug turned into something else entirely. That was the beginning of the end.
Storm looked at the dip and realized he’d lost his appetite. “Why don’t I get out of here and let you two have a nice romantic dinner? You don’t need me hanging around, and the bar is starting to pick up, so I’ll get back to work.”
Patrice patted his hand. “He doesn’t mean anything to her, you know.”
Storm shook his head. “Patrice, what Bree does outside of this bar is none of my business. I’m here to help Pete, not for anything else, and I’m not staying any longer than I have to. As soon as Pete’s back on his feet and able to take care of himself and Nicki, I’m history.”
“Sure, okay.” She waved her hand. “I don’t buy it, but by all means, go ahead and spout your nonsense. Maybe if you keep telling yourself that, you’ll start believing your own brand of bullshit. If Bree went out with Daniel to get a rise out of you, she succeeded.”
“Bree getting a rise out of me has never been our problem. Our problem is just about everything else. Enjoy your night out.”
Storm waved over Wanda as he strode to the bar. “When you have a chance, take Francis and Patrice’s dinner order. It’s on me tonight, but don’t tell them that until it’s over, okay?”
Wanda wiped the top of her tray. “Sure thing.”
Storm slid behind the bar and took a beer glass to a pile of napkins, fanning them, doing his best to keep his mind off Bree and that jerk she was with.
Wanda stuffed her order pad in the pocket of her apron. “When’s Bree coming back?”
“I don’t know. She doesn’t clear her calendar with me. If there is any bar business that needs to be dealt with, I’ll take care of it.”
“Great.”
Storm wished Wanda would just get back to work and let him get his mind on anything else, but she rested her tush on a stool and settled in for a chat. “It’s good to see Bree finally go out with Mr. Knickerbocker. He’s been asking her out as long as I’ve been working here.”
Part of him wanted to tell Wanda the only reason Bree went with the guy was because Storm had practically dared her. He’d heard of a pity date, but never a revenge date. “Why didn’t she go out with him?”
Wanda shrugged. “Hell if I know; he’s pretty hot. Bree doesn’t go out much. She gives new meaning to playing hard to get.”
Storm just hoped ol’ Daniel wouldn’t be getting any tonight. The glass he used to fan the napkins cracked in his hand. “Shit.”
“Sore subject, obviously.” Wanda raised an eyebrow. “I’ll just go and take Francis and Patrice’s order now.”
“Probably a good idea.” Storm swept the stack of cocktail napkins and the broken glass into the trash. It was going to be a long night.
CHAPTER 6
Bree mentally filed her nails as Daniel held her close while they danced to a Sarah Vaughan look-alike singing one of Bree’s favorites, “You’re Mine, You.” She looked deep into Daniel’s too-pretty brown eyes and felt nothing. No sparks, no connection, no future, no nothing—at least not on her part. Unfortunately, the bulge pressing against her told her the same couldn’t be said for her dance partner. How did one get out of a situation like this?
She wished she felt something—anything—for the guy, and the fact that she didn’t was not only an utter disappointment, but it made her feel guilty. God, when had she become the type of person who would use someone? When Daniel had asked her to the benefit, she’d told him she’d go only as a coworker. She probably should have reiterated that by text, but her mind had been so full of Storm, all she’d wanted to do was rub his nose in it, even though it meant absolutely nothing. She checked her watch, wondering how much longer she’d have to wait to claim exhaustion.
“When did Pete’s son arrive to save the day?”
“Storm?” God, could he sound any snarkier? Not that she hadn’t thought the same thing, but it wasn’t Daniel’s place to point it out. “He flew in early this morning—or late last night.”
“How well do you know him?”
A picture of Storm passed out on the floor of Nicki’s room brought a smile to her lips. “Better than I ever wanted to. Why do you ask?”
“Storm Decker has quite the reputation. The stories Pete tells about his boys are enough to make you wonder why they’re not all in jail. I don’t know if I like the idea of him living and working so close to you.”
Bree stopped dancing. “Daniel, first of all, Storm and I have known each other since we were kids.” And no one had the right to talk about Storm but her, dammit. “But that’s beside the point, because when it comes down to it, who I spend time with is no concern of yours.”
“What if I wanted to make it my concern?” His voice dropped an octave, and he pulled her closer.
Bree pushed ag
ainst his chest, and, smart man that he was, he loosened his grip. “That’s not an option.” As she disengaged herself, she remembered all the reasons she’d never accepted a second date with Daniel; that itchy feeling she got whenever he walked her home from their committee meetings and the way he always seemed to stand too close.
Great, this was the perfect time to come to her senses and remember that kissing Daniel had been like kissing a cross between a lizard and an octopus. Shit. “You know, I’ve been working such long hours”—she pulled away and headed toward their table—“and it looks as if the night was a success, so I’m going to head back to the bar. I need to make sure things are running smoothly before I get some much-needed sleep.”
“Let me walk you back.”
“In these shoes?” She looked at her favorite toe-stranglers. “I don’t think so.” She was used to being on her feet, so wearing heels wasn’t much of a problem; she just didn’t like the possessive look in Daniel’s eyes. “I’m going to grab a cab. It was important for us to show a united front for the sake of the project, but this wasn’t a date. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
“I want to make sure you get back safely. I insist.” Daniel’s grip tightened on her arm.
Bree scanned the still-busy club and saw all the deep-pocketed people who’d paid a lot of money to support her favorite project. It certainly wouldn’t help if they got into a knock-down, drag-out fight. “Fine.” She gave him what she liked to think of as her glacial look and then stared at his hand on her arm. He released his grip, and his calm and collected mask slipped back into place.
Bree made her way to the door, making sure the doorman got them a cab, as the last thing she wanted was to be alone with Daniel. When she alighted from the cab, she was surprised to see Daniel get out behind her. “I’m going to check on the bar, and then I’m going home. Alone.”
“I’ll just come in for a nightcap.”
“I’d really rather you didn’t. I’m tired.” She ignored him, or at least tried to as she stepped into the bar.
As if he had some kind of weird radar, Storm caught her eye when Daniel put a possessive arm around her. She rolled her eyes before turning to Daniel. “Thanks for seeing me in. I’m just going to check on a few things in the back and then head upstairs. I appreciate your letting me pal around with you tonight.”
“Come on, Bree.”
Daniel was doing the arm-holding thing again, and she seriously considered saying to hell with their working relationship, and breaking his arm. Of course, she’d have to break his nose first to surprise him, and she really hated blood. She planted her feet, ready to do battle. “Daniel, if you don’t let me go right now, I’m going to embarrass you, hurt you, and probably ruin that Zegna suit you’re wearing. Bloodstains are always so difficult to get out.”
“Bree, we’re over here.” Francis hurried toward her.
Daniel dropped her arm when he saw a tank in human form striding toward them.
“Francis, I’m so glad you and Patrice are still here. Daniel was just leaving. Weren’t you, Daniel?”
Daniel threw his shoulders back and smiled. “Actually, I think you talked me into a nightcap. Francis, Bree and I would love to join you and Patrice.”
“And Storm.” Francis shrugged. “I don’t know if you were around much before Storm Decker left.”
“I know him only by reputation.”
Francis shook his head. “You can’t believe everything you hear, unless it’s good; then you kind of have to give him the benefit of the doubt.” Francis let out one of his shotgun laughs and pulled Bree into a hug and away from Daniel. He gave Daniel a friendly slap on the back, which sent him reeling ahead of them.
“Thanks, buddy,” Bree whispered. “I was trying to get rid of him.”
“Don’t worry about it. Storm sent me over. He’ll take care of Daniel, and I’ll make sure no one ends up in jail. I have a feeling Storm will have no problem with the likes of Knickerbocker.”
“Great, that’s all I need.”
“Bree, you should have thought of that before parading Knickerbocker in front of Storm. Next time, you might want to make sure the guy’s not such a big dick.”
“I can handle him.”
“Sure, but when you have friends like me and Storm, you don’t have to—it’s a good thing Storm spotted you. Just make sure you don’t do this again. There’s a reason Patty doesn’t have a good feeling about this guy. I don’t like the way he was touching you.”
That made two of them. She planned to give Daniel a wide berth from now on. All she needed was a way to get rid of him—that didn’t involve Storm Decker, blood, or the police.
* * *
Rocki finished up the fourth set with her band and watched the air crackle in an electric arc between Storm and Bree. Man, if she had that much chemistry with anyone, she wouldn’t be blasting him with visual darts or dangling another man in front of him, that was for sure.
At the piano, she adjusted the mic while the band broke down the stage, and she let the two people she’d watched with growing curiosity and annoyance inspire her solo set. She wasn’t scheduled to do one, but what the hell? Maybe Storm and Bree would take the hint.
She started the intro into Lifehouse’s “Broken” because that was what she saw when they looked at each other. They were two broken people, each dealing with their own demons, the residual pain of losing whatever it was they once had, circling, trying to find their balance with the changes they discovered in each other and in themselves, fighting the attraction, fighting the addiction, fighting each other.
Her fingers itched for a pen and paper as she sang about broken hearts still beating, about not knowing how to find a way home.
She rolled it into a Norah Jones. The dance floor filled with couples holding one another close and shuffling their feet. That always brought a smile to her lips. Her fingers flying over the keys like a caress down a lover’s spine, she closed her eyes and belted out the song, the music exposing a piece of her soul to those aware enough to look.
Rocki let the last notes resonate through the quiet bar before she opened her eyes and watched what she hoped was Storm and Bree’s mating dance. Whenever Bree was near, Storm stood too close to be polite, his chest expanding as if drinking in her scent. And no matter how hard Bree tried to stay away, she was drawn to him, seemingly against her own will.
Rocki signaled her guitarist, who sat beside her as she played the intro to a Lady Antebellum song they’d been working on, thinking maybe the duet would give Storm and Bree the extra push they needed. Frankly, Rocki wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take. She was ready to just knock their heads together.
* * *
Bree would normally head upstairs, but instead she sat at the end of the bar, toying with her drink and fending off unwanted admirers—only one of whom was Daniel Knickerbocker. Her plan had backfired. It wasn’t that she wanted Storm; she just wanted him to know there were plenty of other men who wanted her. Unfortunately, Daniel, the creeper, wasn’t the man she wanted to make that point. Not that Storm even noticed—he was too busy dancing with Patrice.
Francis dragged a stool next to hers and put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her toward him. “If you want to dance with Storm,” he whispered, “why don’t you ask him?”
“I don’t.”
“That’s not what it looks like to me. What is it with you two? You’ve been fighting all night. I thought you wanted help around here. He’s helping, and you’re acting like it’s an imposition.”
“I wanted someone to help, not take over.”
Francis groaned. “Oh, so this is a woman thing.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know, one of those things where a guy is in the doghouse and in order to get out, he’s expected to read the woman’s mind and say or do exactly what she wants, even though it makes no sense to anyone but her. In other words, Storm is screwed.”
“This has absolutely nothing
to do with me.”
“You’re wrong. It has everything to do with you. He’s been dancing around you ever since he got here. He’s willing to stand on his head, do whatever it takes, but he doesn’t have the first clue as to what that is. The problem as I see it is that I’m not sure you know what you want either.”
“I don’t want anything from Storm, except for him to leave me the heck alone.”
“If you’re going to lie, Bree, you’d better work on your body language, because from the male perspective, you’re saying the complete opposite.” Francis stood. “Come on. Let’s dance.”
He took Bree’s hand and muscled her off the barstool. What was it with men moving her around like a pawn on a chessboard? “I don’t want to dance.”
“No”—Francis dragged her to the dance floor—“you just don’t want to dance with me or Daniel—who looks like he’s getting busy with the girl who was after Storm for most of the night while you were AWOL. Don’t worry, though. I’ll take care of your partner problem in a minute.”
“What are you talking about?”
Francis pulled her into his huge arms. “You’ll see. Just give it a few minutes.”
She and Francis became friends when Pete gave Francis an ultimatum—work at the bar to pay off the stiches Logan had to get due to the beating Francis inflicted on him or Pete would call the cops. Pete’s influence had ultimately helped Francis turn his life around.
Dancing with Francis was not new to her. Hell, he’d taken her to her senior prom; of course, he’d spent most of the night mooning over Patrice. It hadn’t bothered her—Francis had always been a good friend and nothing more. It took Patrice a while to figure out that under that cocky, muscled, rebel-without-a-cause exterior beat the heart of a gentle soul.
“I remember you crying on my shoulder after Storm left. I didn’t know it then, but you were in love with him.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m not talking about it. I’m just stating the facts. Was he in love with you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. The only one Storm has ever loved is himself.”