Bad Boys of Red Hook [2] You're the One Page 30

  Skye didn’t realize she’d been crying until her mother took three tissues out of the box and placed them in her hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. God, Mom, I couldn’t take it anymore—working in the back when I wanted to cook, cooking only when the guys let me. I quit and took off for New York. I got a job at a great little place, and I made the mistake of falling for the owner’s son.”

  “What’s so wrong with that—except for quitting without discussing it with me and your father first?”

  Skye blew her nose, then reached for more tissues. This was going to be a half-a-box confession. “Do you know Logan Blaise?”

  “Wasn’t he the man engaged to the Billingsly girl? He works with her father, right?”

  “He’s the one, Mom.” She dabbed at her eyes, but it only made it worse. Now she looked like an addict jones’n’ for a fix. “He said that he and Payton had called off the engagement.”

  “That was a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Right.” She laughed but it sounded more like a sob. “He told me that over a month ago. Then he came back for a wine competition and the next thing I know, there are pictures of Logan and Payton Velcro’d together all over the Internet. God, Mom, how could I be so stupid?”

  Her mother sat on the settee and smoothed her skirt. “Have you talked to him?”

  “No. Why would I want to listen to any more of Logan’s lies? Didn’t you hear a word I said?”

  Her mother sat there perfectly composed as if her daughter hadn’t just had her heart smashed, as if she hadn’t just gone through twelve tissues crying over losing the love of her life, as if her world hadn’t just fallen apart.

  “I heard every word you said, dear. I only ask because Pete Calahan told me that Logan’s been as miserable as you. Only he hasn’t been sitting around wallowing—he’s been doing something with his time.” She held her hand out to check her nails. “Of course, I can’t condone violence, but Pete assured me that Slater got no more than he deserved and lived to tell about it.”

  “You spoke to Pete?”

  “Do you think I’ve raised four boys and your father without knowing exactly what my children were doing and where they were doing it every day of their lives? Do you actually think I didn’t know where you were within forty-eight hours of your disappearance? Honestly, dear, give me some credit.”

  Skye almost walked into the wall and realized she’d been pacing. She turned and faced her mother, who, she was beginning to realize, might be a stranger. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because I enjoy making your brothers suffer. They’ve been squirming like nuns at a Chippendales show for over a month.”

  “What did Pete tell you?” God, she hoped he didn’t mention the chocolate cake incident and the champagne incident. She’d had two incidents in her whole life and Logan caused both of them. That had to mean something.

  “Pete only told me that you’re a hell of a cook and that you were safe and happy. He gave me his word that he’d keep an eye on you.” She lifted her chin to her I’m-the-queen-of-all-things angle. “Unlike some people I know, he didn’t want me to worry.”

  Really? Skye couldn’t believe her mother would pull this kind of shit. She wasn’t a teenager anymore. Come to think of it, her mother didn’t pull that when she was a teenager—this was a first. “Mother, I’m thirty years old. I don’t have to tell you my every move.”

  “And I’m your mother. It’s my job to know you. I have a PhD in Skye Sinclair Maxwell. I’ve known for quite a while you were unhappy with your work and I waited patiently for you to do something about it. I have to say, it took you long enough. You’re a smart, strong, incredible woman, Skye. And the only one who doesn’t know that is you. You’ve let your brothers push you around your whole life. I had to stop playing referee for your own good. It was past time you learned to stand up for yourself and push back. So now you’ve finally taken a stand. You’ve finally left the safe life you’ve been living. You’ve finally opened yourself up and let someone get close to you. But at the first sign of trouble, what do you do? You run home and hide your head under your duvet. If you want Logan Blaise, don’t you think you should fight for him?”

  “But, Mom, he doesn’t want me.”

  “How would you know? From what I hear, you haven’t even turned on your phone. How is he supposed to communicate with you? Telepathically? If you love this man, get your head out of the sand and go get him.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  “I never said that. Do you think your father just fell in line? I not only had Payton Billingsly’s mother to fight off; I had every other debutante in our social circle after him. If I had acted like you, you would never have been born.”

  “You fought Payton’s mother for Dad?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t call it a fight, but there was an unfortunate incident with a bottle of red wine. It was such a shame about her dress, but I had to make sure that no amount of club soda would remove that stain.”

  “Mother!” God, Skye looked in the mirror and shocked herself. She looked like that person in Edvard Munch’s The Scream—only paler.

  Her mom smiled a terribly wicked smile. Who knew she’d been such a devious debutante? If Skye’s brothers ever found out their mother was always one step ahead of them, they’d leave skid marks, and not on pavement.

  “Skye, if you really love Logan Blaise, you need to decide how far you’re willing to go to win him back. You need to decide if you’re willing to spend the rest of your life wondering if you could have worked things out. If you’re asking my advice, I’d suggest you give him the opportunity to explain his actions and beg for forgiveness. You have to give him the opportunity to get down on his knees and grovel. It’s only fair.”

  “How do you know he’s going to grovel?”

  “Because if you love him, he has to be a very special young man. And trust me, dear, if a man isn’t willing to beg and grovel, then he’s not worth the effort. My makeup is on the counter. Splash your face and put yourself back together. You wouldn’t want Payton to see you at less than your best and we have a birthday party to finish.” Her mother stood and hugged her. “I love you, Skye. You’ve always been a precious gift. All you have to do is believe it, and believe in yourself.”

  “You have to say that. You’re my mother.”

  “No, I don’t, and I wouldn’t because I’m your mother.”

  Skye looked into her mother’s eyes and she saw love, she saw determination, and she saw truth.

  * * *

  Logan couldn’t believe Pop had been in touch with Skye’s mother the entire time Skye had worked at the Crow’s Nest. The two of them sounded uncomfortably chummy. Still, Pop had been able to tell him exactly when and where to find Skye, so he wouldn’t spend hours standing outside Skye’s apartment being harassed by the doorman.

  Unfortunately, nothing Pop had said helped Logan deal with his nerves. He refrained from drinking on the plane and chose to sweat it out. And sweat he did. By the time he got to his hotel room, he was anxious, sick to his stomach, and in desperate need of a shower.

  Luckily, the ticket Pop foisted upon him gave him plenty of time. He had checked into his hotel with an hour to spare, which he spent pacing, trying to figure out what to say to Skye, and imagining worst-case scenarios.

  By the time Logan pulled his rental car into the club parking lot and handed the keys off to the parking attendant, he was in full Francis mode: scared shitless and not afraid to show it.

  “The Jag in the shop, Mr. Blaise?”

  “No, Joey, I sold it.”

  The poor kid looked like he was about to cry. He nodded, swallowed hard, and handed Logan the ticket.

  Logan patted Joey’s back, pulled a couple twenties off his billfold, and handed it to the kid. “This is for your car fund. But just remember, in the end, a ride is just a ride.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Blaise.” It didn’t look as if Joey believed him, and Logan figured h
e wouldn’t have either if someone had told him the same thing a few months ago. He hoped Joey would figure it out before he got to be Logan’s age. He nodded to the doorman, took a deep breath, and straightened his tie.

  The maître d’ met him at the entrance to the dining room. “Would you like a table, Mr. Blaise, or are you joining Ms. Billingsly?”

  Shit, of course Payton would be here to witness his demise. “Neither. I’m meeting someone else. Don’t worry—I’ll find my party.”

  “Certainly, sir.”

  Logan figured if this whole adventure went south, he could kiss his membership good-bye and then realized he couldn’t care less—he might as well dump the club anyway. He stepped inside and scanned the room, praying Payton wouldn’t spot him.

  His eyes locked on Skye and the upside-down feeling, the echoing emptiness, the jumbled confusion he’d accepted as his new normal, instantly disappeared. It was as if his whole world righted itself. The millstone he’d had strapped to his chest vanished and he breathed freely for the first time in weeks. His facial muscles reconfigured and tugged his mouth into a natural smile. He froze, afraid to move, or blink or make a sound, for fear she’d disappear.

  Skye stood over what looked like a chocolate birthday cake, removing the candles and licking the frosting off the ends. As if she could feel his gaze, she looked up—she smiled, and just as quickly that smile disappeared. All the color drained from her face.

  “Logan!” Payton’s voice rang through the restaurant. Shit.

  He didn’t take his eyes off Skye until Payton blocked his view. “I knew you’d come back.” She reached over to kiss him and he caught her shoulders.

  “Payton, I’m not here to see you. I’m meeting someone else. Excuse me.”

  Payton’s mouth dropped open.

  Logan took full advantage of her shock and stepped around her, leaving her standing in the middle of the dining room.

  “But, Logan.” Her whine followed him across the room, each “But, Logan” increased in volume, and then it changed to “Logan, come back here!”

  By the time he made it to Skye’s table, every one of her family members stared at him. Patrick, Colin, and her other two brothers stood with hands fisted at their sides. Anger radiated from them in waves that crashed on Logan with the force of a tsunami.

  Jack Maxwell, Skye’s father, placed his napkin beside his plate. “What’s going on here?” He stood and their eyes met. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Logan Blaise, sir.” He held his hand out and after a nudge from his wife, Mr. Maxwell gave it a crushing shake; Logan blew out a relieved breath—he didn’t think it was broken. The pain in his hand was nothing compared with the pain he’d seen in Skye’s eyes when Payton screamed his name. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to borrow Skye for a moment.”

  All four of Skye’s brothers surrounded her. Patrick was their mouthpiece. “Over my dead body.”

  Skye couldn’t see Logan. Her brothers were acting like human shields. She poked Paddy in the kidneys—hard. “That can be arranged, Paddy. Go sit down. That goes for all of you.” When they didn’t move, she went up on her tiptoes and whispered in Paddy’s ear. “I’m warning you, Paddy. The next thing I poke you with will have a serrated edge.”

  The guys scattered—Kier and Colin knocked into Logan’s shoulders on their way to their seats—it was amazing he stayed on his feet. Paddy was smart to leave well enough alone. She’d deal with Colin and Kier later. She crossed her arms to hide her shaking hands and stared straight at Logan’s tie tack. “What do you want, Logan?”

  He reached over and tipped up her chin so she had no choice but to look him in the eye. Shit. That was so not fair. His touch shot off fireworks through her body. Her face flushed and her pulse skittered beneath his fingertips. He slid his hand around and under her hair, running his fingers over the back of her neck.

  She raised her gaze from his nervous smile to his dark brown eyes and let out a string of silent curses. His eyes were so open, so full of love, so honest and true. Logan—her Logan—not a cyborg in sight.

  He looked like crap. Like he hadn’t slept in weeks. Like he’d lost weight. He looked like she probably did.

  He stepped closer. Her crossed arms brushed his chest and his scent wrapped around her like a warm blanket. “Skye, it’s you I want. You’re the one I love. You’re the one I need. You’re the one I can’t seem to live without. What I’ve been doing since you left can’t be considered living. I love you, Skye. I can explain everything. Please, sugar, I’m begging you. Just give me another chance. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to deserve you.”

  Her legs didn’t seem to want to hold her up anymore and she sank onto the chair. “But you were with Payton. I saw you. Kelly even asked you if Payton was your fiancée. You told me it was over.”

  Logan went to his knees and took her hands in his. “It was. I swear. My boss just asked that we not announce the breakup until after the competition. If we won, he wanted the story to be about the wine. Skye, you have to believe me. I didn’t know Payton was going with us. Honest to God, if I had known, I never would have agreed. I don’t think Payton’s dad realized what she would do. Hell, even I was surprised.”

  “You kissed her. I saw it.”

  “I know that’s how it looked. I’m sorry. But technically, she kissed me on camera. I couldn’t very well push her away.”

  “So if some guy just came up and kissed me senseless, you’d be fine with that?”

  “No, I’d have to kill him.”

  “And I’m supposed to just trust you’re telling me the truth?”

  “I fully expect you to make me grovel for a long, long, long time. Patrice even offered to give you tips on how to torture me.”

  “Wow, you must be really desperate. That woman has moments of pure evil genius.” If Logan were a dog, he’d win the national championship for begging, hands down.

  “Skye, you make my life worth living. Please come back home. Marry me. Make a family with me—a real family of our own. I made an offer on that property. Just say the word and we can make our dreams come true.”

  “What about Nicki?” The tortured, raw look in his eyes stole her breath and she had the urge to wrap her arms around him.

  “The test came back negative. I love her and I always want her in my life. We’ll see about the rest.”

  “Is Slater her father?” She remembered watching them walk away—remembered thinking that Nicki looked like a miniature female version of Slater.

  Logan shrugged, closed his eyes, and squeezed her hand. When he opened his eyes again, they looked glassy, filled with pain.

  “I’m sorry. I know how much you love her.”

  “That hasn’t changed. She might not be my daughter, but she’ll always be my kid. I gotta tell you, though, in one day, I thought I lost both of you. God, Skye. I don’t ever want to feel that bad again. Please don’t give up on us. Please don’t give up on me. Marry me.”

  Skye looked over at her mother.

  Mary Margaret Maxwell gave Skye a thumbs-up. “Well, dear, he certainly has the begging and groveling part down. I think he shows promise.”

  Jack turned to his wife. “Mary Margaret, what is going on?”

  “Shush, Jack. Logan’s proposing to your daughter.” She looked over at her sons. “And I’ll not have you wearing out your knuckles on your future brother-in-law. He’s got too pretty a face.”

  Skye looked at Logan and the background faded and blurred—only Logan’s face remained crisp and clear and solid. “Do you want a piece of chocolate cake?”

  Logan looked over at her brothers and then back at Skye. “Is that a yes?”

  She nodded and couldn’t hide the stupid grin on her face. She threw her arms around him, gave him a kiss that she intended to be chaste, but the moment his arms came around her, she didn’t care that she was in the middle of the dining room at the club, she didn’t care that her parents were three feet away, she didn’t care that
the sphincter police were probably sharpening their knives.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” Logan rose to his feet and signaled the waiter. “Can we get two pieces of chocolate cake to go?”

  Skye didn’t bother hiding her grin before turning to the waiter. “And don’t forget the whipped cream.”

  EPILOGUE

  Logan sat on a hard plastic chair and watched Nicki inspect a litter of puppies—what she was looking for was a mystery. She’d repeatedly told him she knew what she was doing. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to let her take the lead—after all, this was new to him. He didn’t think she could do any worse than he would.

  The lady who set them up in the adoption room said the puppies wouldn’t be large—she said they were a beagle mix—but the size of their paws had him questioning her knowledge. Apparently the whole litter had been found in a box beside a Dumpster. They were cute as hell—all ten of them. They had big brown eyes, a short coat, white with brown spots, long brown ears, and feet too big for their little bodies.

  Nicki stood beside his chair, leaning against him. “You see that one pushing all the others around?”

  Logan nodded. “Reminds me of Francis.”

  She laughed and nudged him. “Mr. Francis is like a big teddy bear, but this puppy—he’s too aggressive. He’s out.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I read about what to look for when adopting a puppy on Yahoo. I’ve done research.”

  He was glad one of them had.

  Nicki pulled a squeaky toy out of her pocket, and tossed it. Two of the puppies ran away; the others went to play. “Those two are too skittish.”

  “Okay. Three down, seven to go.”

  Then she sat on the floor and let the puppies crawl all over her. She picked them up one by one. After holding every one of them several times, she stopped and smiled and pushed herself to her feet while holding a puppy in her arms. “I found him!”