Bad Boys of Red Hook [2] You're the One Read Free Page A

bedtime routine?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Then I guess I’d better start, huh?” He turned her to face him and crouched down low. She was definitely losing a battle with tears. He took out his handkerchief and wiped her face. “I don’t know a damn thing about kids, Nicki, but I’ll learn. I promise. Just don’t cry any more, okay?”
    Nicki sniffed and a few more tears fell. “I’m not crying.”
    “Glad to hear it. Now, come on, let’s go and say good-bye to Storm and Bree and you can tell me all about this bedtime thing.” He took her hand in his and was floored by how small the kid was. He couldn’t remember ever being that small. His neck felt like a pincushion again—but this time, the pins were on fire.
    When he’d shown up a few weeks earlier to help take care of his dad and the bar, he’d not only met Nicki for the first time; he’d found out that there was a darn good chance that Nicki might be his daughter. It was a shock to say the least, and he hadn’t a clue what to do with her. All he knew was he’d give away everything he’d ever owned, even his ’56 Jag, never to see her cry again.

C HAPTER 2
    Skye Maxwell sat in the main dining room of the country club, looked at the presents scattered around the large table amid the crumbs of what was once a decadent chocolate fudge birthday cake, and tried not to let her disappointment show. Sure, she had known her family wouldn’t be handing her the keys to the new Maxwell’s restaurant’s kitchen that she would run, but she’d expected at least preliminary architectural drawings. After all, that’s what each of her four brothers received on his thirtieth birthday. And as with their gifts, she had expected to see hers encased in a cardboard tube and wrapped like a big Tootsie Roll. Not one of the gifts on the table was in the shape of a tube; none of her gifts were wrapped like a Tootsie Roll. They were square or round, and in no way looked as though any would be large enough to contain blueprints.
    Her mother, Mary Margaret Maxwell, patted her dark brown, almost black shoulder-length hair, which had to be dyed. A woman of her age must have at least a few gray hairs after raising four rambunctious boys and Skye, who was no shrinking violet herself. Mary Margaret gave her anassessing look and must have kicked Skye’s father, Jack, under the table. Either that or she’d goosed him, because he jumped and shot her mother a what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you glare. “Is everything okay, Skye?” her mother asked.
    Skye could hardly hear beyond the noise in her head—it was as if she went swimming in a pool-sized bowl of Rice Krispies. She reminded herself to breathe and gave the question some real thought. Was everything okay?
    Seriously?
    Not only no, but hell no! Things were so far from okay, they weren’t even in the same hemisphere, but if her own family couldn’t figure that out, she wasn’t about to tell them. “Yes, of course. Why do you ask?”
    “I don’t know. You look a little down.”
    Just a little? Damn—she deserved an Academy Award for her performance. “Not at all. I’m just stuffed—I can’t believe we’ve completely destroyed that whole cake.”
    Patrick, her eldest brother, clapped his hands. “Okay, start opening your presents. I need to get back to the restaurant.”
    Of course he did—Paddy was the first to get his restaurant and he was married to the darn place. The only time he let Skye in his kitchen was when he wanted her to come up with the monthly specials for their upscale family-run line of restaurants. Other than that, he loved to stick her back in the business office to handle the books, the human resources, and insurances—something she dreaded. She might be good at it, but it wasn’t where she wanted to be. She wanted her own kitchen, and from the looks of the presents, she wasn’t going to get it.
    She opened each package—all thoughtful gifts she would normally love, but not after working her butt