Back to You: Bad Boys of Red Hook (32 page)

Storm’s arms came around her from behind. “Your butt looks amazing. I just don’t like the thought of anyone but me admiring it.”

Her gaze returned to the mirror when she asked, “Too slutty?”

“No, you look tempting.” He kissed her neck, and his hands inched higher. “So tempting, I want to unbutton this prim and proper business suit and find out what you’re wearing beneath it. I’m just glad no one but me knows your taste in lingerie.”

Bree rolled her eyes. “Storm, I’m hardly a vestal virgin.”

His grip went from seductive to possessive. “Did you sleep with him?”

She had absolutely no idea who Storm was referring to—not that it really mattered. “Do I ask you who you slept with?” And God, how she wished she could. She had a vague memory of Nicki’s mother from years ago, dark hair, hot body, way too much makeup—her direct opposite. And if Storm was Nicki’s father, that meant he’d chosen Marisa over her.

“Knickerbocker. Did you sleep with him?”

“Eww, no, so would you please stop this testosterone-charged chest pounding and let me breathe?” She should be completely disgusted by his behavior. She was a smart, independent woman. She didn’t need a man. She’d survived all this time without one. Well, except for the other night, but even Gloria Steinem had great sex once in a while, didn’t she? What shocked her was that a little part of her liked it—the little girl who had dreamed of wearing a tiara and of being rescued by a white knight. That little
girl inside had Bree fighting back a sigh and questioning her sanity.

Storm loosened his hold and looked as shocked as she was by his reaction. “Sorry.”

Bree shook her head and waved his apology away. “I’m nervous enough about the meeting; I don’t need anything else to deal with.”

“You’ve practiced; you’ll be fine.” He looked so sure of himself.

“I’ve practiced using a spatula as a microphone, and a blank wall for my PowerPoint in front of you, Nicki, and D.O.G. Hardly an unbiased audience.”

“The PowerPoint is more for you than for anyone else. It will keep you on track. As for the rest, just pretend that everyone on the board is your employee. You have no problem talking to them, making your needs known, and asking for results.”

Bree shook her head and checked her computer again. “Why couldn’t Daniel just do this?”

“You’re better off without him. You’ll be fine.”

Stampeding footsteps prevented any response as Nicki rounded the corner into Bree’s room and stopped short, wrapping her arm around D.O.G.’s neck. Bree still couldn’t believe they’d talked her into allowing the monster of a dog into her apartment. Still, he was growing on her…slowly. She was getting used to being licked awake by man and dog. She still preferred the man, probably always would, but the mutt was pretty cute.

“Pop said I could come over and give you this.” Nicki held out her hand. “It’s my lucky rock.”

“Lucky rock?” If Bree had expected a pebble, she was mistaken. She accepted the loan of a rock big enough to
fit neatly in the palm of her hand, her fingers wrapped around the cool stone.

“If you get scared, just hold on to it. It always helps me.”

“Thanks, Nicki.” Bree wondered if it was a ten-year-old’s equivalent of brass knuckles. She reached for Nicki and gave her a hug. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right tonight with Pop?”

“Bree, I’m not a baby.” She rolled her eyes and shot Storm a conspiratorial look. “Rocki and Francis are downstairs, and they promised one of them would come up to take D.O.G. and me for a walk later. And it’s not as if you’re going to stay out all night again. Are you?”

Bree saw a little kernel of insecurity bleed through Nicki’s bravado and wished she and Storm hadn’t spent the other night on the boat. They should have come home. She knew it then, but Storm had been too persuasive. “No, we’ll be home right after the meeting.”

Storm cleared his throat. “I thought we might stop for a late dinner to celebrate, but I guess we could do that downstairs at the bar. But either way, we’ll be home tonight, kiddo. I promise.”

Nicki’s smile popped out with Storm’s words, and she gave Bree another hug. “You’ll do great. Just pretend you’re in the kitchen practicing.”

“I will.”

“And Storm will be there if you get scared. Plus, you have my lucky rock.”

“I’ll be fine. Thanks, Nicki.”

Storm picked up her briefcase. “Let’s go. We don’t want to be late.”

Bree took one last look at herself in the mirror and then at the picture of her and her father—he was the
reason she started this whole crusade. Her father’s vision of Red Hook became hers, and with her hard work, it was becoming a reality. She hoped her dad was looking down and smiling on her just as he was in the picture. She needed all the help she could get and figured it was too late to do anything but pray.

 * * *

Storm held the door to the meeting room open for Bree and was surprised to see it was standing room only a good fifteen minutes before the meeting was to start.

Bree looked from the dais to him, her nervousness palpable. “Could you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Hold this”—she handed him Nicki’s rock—“and this.” Her purse hit him in the chest.

He looked around for a place to stash it, but every seat was taken. “I’ll just stand in the back against the wall.”

“Thanks.” She turned and walked away before he could kiss her for luck, which was probably a good thing since Daniel Knickerbocker was paying an awful lot of attention to them.

Storm watched her back as she made her way through the crowded meeting room and then he fumbled with her purse. He’d never been asked to hold a woman’s purse before, or if he had, he had blocked it from his memory. He was holding a hot pink bag with
JUICY COUTURE
written in big white letters across the front and large enough to garage a Mini Cooper. If it wasn’t before, his man card was history now.

Storm looked to see if anyone noticed, only to find Thomas a few yards away fighting a laugh. Storm gave him a what-the-hell-am-I-supposed-to-do-with-it look, and Thomas pantomimed slinging it over his shoulder.
Storm took the rock and, throwing it in her bag, cringed when he heard it clunk hard against something else. He eased the strap over his shoulder and leaned back against the wall, wishing he’d blend into the woodwork.

He had one eye on Knickerbocker, who sat in the third row, looking as cool and smug as Storm remembered, and one eye on Breezy, who wore her nervousness and emotions on her sleeve. He watched and waited, praying they’d move the reading of the meeting minutes along and get down to new business before Breezy lost her nerve.

A few minutes later, Bree took the mic, and Storm felt something he’d never felt for a woman—pride. Bone-deep pride, which was stupid since he had nothing to do with Bree’s success, but damn, he had never been so proud of anyone before. Bree nailed the presentation and then sailed through the questions. It was the longest half hour of Storm’s life; never before had he felt as invested in anyone or anything outside himself and his business.

The motion to change the zoning passed unanimously—not surprising after Bree’s presentation. He didn’t see how anyone could vote against it. His Breezy was a superstar.

When the meeting broke up, cameras flashed, and reporters peppered her with questions. Daniel made his way to the front. Just as Storm suspected, Daniel couldn’t resist the allure of the limelight for long. When Daniel wrapped his beefy arm around Bree’s waist, Storm’s adrenaline kicked in, his heartbeat sped up, and every muscle tensed. He took a deep breath and checked the urge to go up to the guy, rip his arm out of the socket, and shove it down his throat.

Thomas worked his way over to Storm through the throng of people. “That man sidling up to Ms. Collins is Knickerbocker, I take it?”

“That would be him.” Storm clenched his fist and released it, spreading out his fingers, only to fist them again.

Bree took a step away, but Daniel moved in tandem as if they were connected at the hip, and he pulled her closer.

Thomas gave Storm’s shoulder a warning squeeze. “She can handle herself. You have to let her. The last thing she needs right now is you stirring up trouble.”

Storm let out a frustrated breath. “I know. You’re right, but the man makes me want to punch him like a bag at the Y.”

Bree shook hands with everyone on the board and, as discreetly as she could, separated herself from Daniel before catching Storm’s eye and smiling. She headed for him with a look of triumph on her face.

The moment Daniel noticed Bree had escaped his clutches, he followed her, made eye contact with Storm, a smug smirk twisting his lips, and reached for Bree’s shoulder.

Daniel wrapped his arm around her waist from behind, tugging her against him, and whispered something in her ear.

Surprise, shock, and revulsion crossed her face.

That was it. All bets were off. Storm crossed the room in three strides. “Bree.” He eyed Knickerbocker as he spoke—it was all he could do not to haul off and knock that smarmy smirk off the guy’s pretty face. For Bree’s sake, Storm gave Daniel a heartbeat to rethink his actions.

Knickerbocker released her, and Bree stepped into Storm’s arms. “You were amazing, babe.” He gave her a kiss on the temple, slid her purse off his shoulder and passed it to her, and then took her briefcase. “Come on, there’s someone here I’d like you to meet.”

“I just want to leave.” She took a deep breath and wrapped her arm around Storm’s waist.

“I know, but you can’t let him chase you off. Come meet my friend Thomas Danby.”

“What’s he doing here?”

“You’re news, babe. He wouldn’t miss it.”

She gave him a get-real look but pasted a genuine smile on her face.

“Thomas, I’d like you to meet Breanna Collins. Bree, this is Thomas Danby of the
Wall Street Journal,
and the owner of
No Censor Ship
.”

Bree shook Thomas’s hand. “Thanks for lending us your boat.
No Censor Ship
is incredible.”

“You’re welcome, but Storm deserves most of the praise. I didn’t have much to do with it.”

Storm laughed. “Right, thanks for the props, but Bree is too smart to believe that. She thought I stole it.”

Bree elbowed Storm and smiled at Thomas. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Mr. Danby. I’m surprised you’re here.”

“Call me Thomas, please. You make me sound old enough to be your father—something I’d like to ignore even if it is the truth. Congratulations on the decision. Your presentation was thorough and very convincing. I should know; I’m a professional fact checker. Storm tells me you’ve been on the Revitalization Committee for the last five years. I’ve been impressed with the changes the Committee has effected.”

“Thank you. They are a wonderful group of people, and it’s been a real team effort.”

“I’d like to hear more about it. How about over dinner?”

“Sure.” Bree took a breath and looked over at Storm. “We can go to the Crow’s Nest.”

“Sounds good. Storm’s told me all about the bar. He said you’ve turned it into a real neighborhood gathering place.” He stepped aside to allow Bree to pass. “I hope you two will come out on the boat with me sometime soon. Unfortunately, summer doesn’t last forever.”

Storm gave her an it’s-up-to-you tilt of his head and drew a relieved breath when she aimed one of her thousand-watt-smiles at Thomas. Taking that as a yes, Storm gave her a quick squeeze. “The Crow’s Nest is closed on Sundays and Mondays. Just let us know when, and we’ll be there.”

She turned up the wattage at Storm. “Maybe on our next trip, I’ll be able to pay more attention to the view.”

 * * *

Bree walked into the Crow’s Nest to a round of applause, but this time at least it wasn’t because she was caught necking. Still, she wasn’t sure why everyone was applauding.

One look at Storm told her that he had a hand in this, and, before she could stop herself, she pinched him just below the ribs. “You set me up.”

He let out a pleasing grunt. “No, I just answered a few dozen texts. I didn’t want to get on the bad side of both Rocki and Patrice, so I agreed to a party. They’d probably send Francis in the ambulance with full lights and sirens for the impromptu celebration.” He pulled her around in front so she was in full view of the crowd and
brought his mouth to her ear, making her wish they were alone. “Don’t worry. We’ll celebrate privately, later.”

“We’d better, or you’ll be sleeping on the couch.” Even to her own ears she sounded breathless. She was disgusted with the way her hormones raged whenever he was in the vicinity. It was bad enough she found herself thinking about him constantly. She’d been waiting for Storm’s effect on her to dissipate, waiting for a time that just seeing him didn’t make her heart race like a drumroll, when his touch didn’t make her catch her breath, or the sound of his voice didn’t make her drool. It hadn’t happened yet, and she was still waiting for the Storm Surge—as she thought of it—to recede.

Everyone important in Bree’s life was there—Storm and Nicki, Francis and Patrice, Rocki, even Pete. Everyone was there—everyone but her own mother who had sentenced herself to life in a prison of her own making, something, Bree reminded herself, she was determined not to do.

She soaked in the moment, watching all the people she loved and the bar she’d worked so hard to turn around, in the neighborhood she helped improve, and felt as if everything in her life was finally moving in the right direction.

Her gaze zeroed in on Storm with his arm around Nicki while he talked to Pete and Thomas and a bunch of the regulars. She took a deep breath, walked right up to Storm, and slid under his other arm, hoping to become part of the circle.

Storm kissed her temple, tightened his hold on her, and it felt right, and natural, and real, and so wonderful, she had to blink away tears.

For the first time since her dad died, she felt truly part
of a family. Her family—Storm and Nicki and Pete—right here in Red Hook.

For the first time since her dad died, she felt complete.

For the first time since her dad died, Bree was happy.

Bree let Nicki stay up past her bedtime, but when she saw Pete drooping, she herded them upstairs, putting up with whining on both their parts.