Play Hard

by V. K. Sykes

  At first no one would pass the puck, except Logan, Shane, and a few others including, surprisingly, Jason Danvers. But, to Billie’s way of thinking, Danvers was probably angling for a way to score off the ice.

  There were strict rules of no contact, so while being hit wasn’t an issue, the play tended to get chippy in the corners and along the boards and while she should have kept away from them, she couldn’t help it, she was a gamer. Besides, no one out here was looking to actually hurt her. That would be crazy.

  By the time the third period rolled around, the competitive nature that lives inside every hockey player reared its head and her wingers were doing everything in their power to feed her the puck. They weren’t stupid…they were winning 10-4 and she’d scored 8 of their goals.

  But Billie wasn’t stupid either. She dialed down her skills and coasted through the remaining period. She didn’t see the need to pulverize the other team. Her line was A-1 in the neutral zone and pressing forward, were pretty much unbeatable by the other team.

  Sure, she suffered through a lot of cheap shots on the ice…sticks found their way to the back of her calf, and up underneath her arms, but she gritted her teeth and carried on.

  Logan, one of her defensemen, saw a few of the nastier pokes and she knew he’d hit back when he could and for what it was worth, she was grateful for the gesture. Not that he wouldn’t do it for any of his other players, it was code after all, but still, it felt good to have at least one of her team-mates standing up for her.

  When the game was over, Billie was high on the sheer joy she got playing the game. She left the ice ahead of the others, quickly showered and changed. It wasn’t until she was drying her hair, and the quiet pressed in on her that she started to come down from the clouds. Part of hockey, heck, most of hockey was the fact that as a player, you were part of a team. There was nothing sweeter than celebrating a win with your teammates. She knew they were all heading for beers at The Grill, but no one had invited her along. Not even Logan.

  Not that she was interesting in going. Not really.

  “Whatever,” she muttered to herself as she scooped up her bag and grabbed her sticks. “At least I got to play.”

  Even though she’d help them kick ass tonight, she knew for the most part the men on her team weren’t happy she’d invaded their all-male environment and she wasn’t going to push it. Not yet anyway.

  She stepped through the door and froze.

  Logan Forest leaned against the wall, long, denim clad legs crossed casually like he’d been there a while. Wide shoulders stretched beneath distressed leather and his sexy-as-hell eyes looked at her with an intensity that left her mouth dry. His hair was damp from the shower, curling near his collar and even though he was covered up, she knew what was under there.

  Tattoos and hard-ass muscle.

  He was the most delicious thing she’d ever laid eyes on and for one second, all those old feelings rushed through her. The ones of longing, fantasy, and briefly…hurt.

  “Great game, kid.” His voice was like warm chocolate, so smooth and sinful it wasn’t fair.

  “Thanks,” she managed to get out.

  “Sorry about the room mix-up earlier.” He grabbed his bag and indicated he’d follow her out. “Dearling is an asshole.”

  “I can’t argue with you there.”

  Billie moved past him and she wondered if he was checking out her butt. Seemed like a fair assumption considering she’d be doing exactly that if he was in front of her. The thought brought heat to her cheeks and she thanked the Lord that she’d dragged on her worn and faded, Levi’s. They may not be trendy like Bobbi’s skinny jeans, but they made her ass look damn good.

  They paused at the top of the stairs, in the lobby of the twin pads. The second hour of men’s league was running, as well as a rep team practice on the other side. There was a line-up at the concession stand, the smell of popcorn and hotdogs filled the air.

  The smell alone was enough to put Billie in her happy place and it didn’t matter that the nasty odor of hockey gear wafted in the air as well. She was a rink rat through and through and always felt more at home here than anywhere else.

  “You heading to The Grill?” Logan asked.

  “No,” she answered abruptly, shaking her head. “I don’t think the guys are ready for our relationship to progress that fast. We’re not even in the honeymoon stage yet and besides, I can’t get the image of Dearling’s hairy ass out of my head.”

  He stared down at her and though she wanted to drag her eyes away, Billie couldn’t. The man had superpowers or something…a weird tracking device that claimed every pair of female eyes in the lobby and wouldn’t let go. She knew this because at the moment, there were at least ten pairs of them aimed his way.

  “Okay,” he smiled and Billie wasn’t prepared for the hundred watt mega wash of deliciousness. Her cheeks heated like she was no more than twelve, and her heart sped up so much that she was out of breath. Superpowers didn’t come close to describing the kind of mojo Logan Forest possessed. It had only gotten stronger with time. “They’ll come around, Billie.”

  “Thanks,” she murmured and stepped out of the way as he strode past.

  “I’ll see you next Friday.”

  “Sure will.” Billie’s eyes fell to that delicious butt and then he was gone.

  She hiked her bag up and followed him outside, though her car was parked on the far side. She cut to the left as Logan’s truck pulled away and she watched his taillights disappear into the dark. For one second she thought that maybe, just maybe, she’d head to The Grill for one drink.

  It couldn’t hurt…could it?

  As Billie approached her car, the soft buzz she’d been feeling vanished. It was replaced with a cold shot of anger and if she was honest, a whole lot of hurt.

  All four doors of her old Honda had been keyed, as well as the trunk where the word ‘HO’ was scratched in but good. The hood was lucky enough to garner the word ‘PUSSY’. She dropped her bag and sticks and walked around the vehicle, feeling her heart squeeze when she noticed all four tires slashed as well.

  A strangled cry escaped her throat, and she couldn’t lie, those were the hot, bitter sting of tears poking at the corner of her eyes. Who the hell would do something as asinine and juvenile as this? Who could be so mean spirited and nasty?

  She thought of Dearling and Danvers, of Seth Longwood and who knows how many other men who resented the hell out of her. It could have been any of them. She winced at the thought because according to Bobbi, it could have been half the town.

  Suddenly tired and defeated, Billie whipped out her cell and called home. And promptly got the answering machine. Criminal Minds marathon. Right.

  “Shit.”

  “You need some help?”

  Her head shot up and she spied Shane Gallagher standing a few feet away, next to a pretty serious looking motorcycle.

  “Hey,” she answered a little warily, turning to the side as she wiped the corners of her eyes. “Someone decided to use my car to sharpen their keys.”

  He walked toward her. “I see that.” Shane bent down and surveyed the damage. He glanced up and frowned. “Guess they thought you didn’t need your tires either.”

  “Yeah, looks like.” What else was there to say?

  He stood back and swore beneath his breath as he walked around her car and surveyed the damage. “Well, the good news is that your car is a hunk of junk and not really worth much.”

  Irritated, Billie frowned. “Gee, thanks for that.”

  Shane shrugged. “It’s the truth.” He flashed a smile and Billie had to admit, the man had more than his fair share of charisma. “It won’t take much to grind the scratches out and get a cheap paint job.” He looked down at the car again. “As for the tires, get a set of used winter’s and you’ll be fine. I wouldn’t bother putting it through your insurance because chances are your deductible will be close to what you’d pay to fix it anyway.”

  “Good to know
.” Billie was beyond irritated now. Her deductible was high. She’d agreed to a higher deductible in lieu of cheaper rates. Figures. Guess she’d be dipping into her emergency funds sooner than she thought.

  “I’d call Ed to come and tow it for you but he’s at The Grill.”

  Wonderful. Ed Cronkwright. The goalie on the team they’d just pulverized.

  Billie looked up at the night sky and exhaled. Her night just got better and better. She fingered her cell and thought of calling home again but she knew her father was most likely in bed and Gramps was plunked in front of the television, with his bowl of extra salty popcorn and a supply of diet Coke. He’d never pick up the phone because the TV volume would be way too loud and since she didn’t want to disturb her father it looked like she’d be hiking it home.

  “You may as well leave it and we’ll tell Ed to tow it later tonight.”

  She sighed. “I suppose.”

  “Why don’t you toss your gear in the trunk and I’ll give you a lift.”

  Billie bit her lip. If anyone came back and stole her equipment she’d be more than pissed, but she sure as hell didn’t feel like lugging it all the way home either. Decision made, she popped the trunk and tossed her stuff inside and then turned to Shane.

  “Where’s your bag?”

  “I stowed it in Forest’s truck.” Shane nodded to his bike. “Let’s go.”

  Billie hesitated and his smile widened.

  “You afraid of me, Barker?”

  She eyed him for a moment and then asked the question that had been burning in the back of her mind ever since she’d seen him the week before. “So, what’s with you and my sister?”

  In an instant the warmth vanished from his eyes and was replaced with a frosty glare. He was silent for a moment, his dark eyes intense and Billie wondered for probably the twentieth time, how on earth her sister could have been with someone like Shane Gallagher and then end up with a wet rag like Gerry Dooley.

  Gallagher might have been on the wild side but still…Gerald was the polar opposite.

  Shane cleared his throat and started toward his bike. “There’s not much to tell. We hung out for a while a couple years back and then we didn’t.”

  Billie slid up behind him. “Really, that’s it?”

  He handed her a helmet. “That’s it.”

  His tone was clipped and Billie knew there was a lot more to the story but she didn’t push it. It was really none of her business.

  Shane revved the engine, it sounded mean and dirty, and they took off. The air was crisp and fresh and for a few moments Billie held on and let her mind forget all her problems. She didn’t think about hockey, or the fact that her immediate job future looked pretty damn sad. She didn’t think about her father, or her sisters, or even Dearling’s hairy ass. For one blessed moment she cleared her mind and enjoyed the freedom of a bike and the open road. The wind on her face and the star-heavy night sky and the…

  Wait a second. Billie frowned and tugged on Shane’s arm—they’d missed her street—but he ignored her and a few moments later they pulled into the parking lot of The Grill. They coasted to a prime spot right in front and Shane cut the motor.

  “I thought you were giving me a lift?”

  “I am,” he waited for her to slide off. “I did.”

  She glared at him.

  “I never said I was taking you home right away.” He grinned and it took a bit for Billie to resist the pull of his smile. The man was way too good looking for his own good and the leather—the bad boy reputation—only added to his appeal.

  “Look, none of these guys are expecting you to come back here, not really.” A slow grin spread across his face. “Especially not Dearling or Longwood.”

  “I don’t know…” she thought of what Bobbi had said earlier, about Duke and Jackie’s marital woes. She thought about the rest of the town and how everybody seemed to have an opinion on a woman playing hockey in the men’s league. Heck, even Jason McDaniel from the hardware store had gone on and on about it while she’d stood in line waiting to pay for some paint—he wasn’t a fan—like she cared two shits what he thought. The guy had never put a pair of skates on in his life. What did he know?

  An image of Dearlings hairy ass crossed her mind. Asshole. Why should she let them have fun and whoop it up when clearly, she’d won the game? Not that she was keeping score or anything.

  Logan was inside, she’d noticed his truck on the way in and just thinking of him brought a wave of heat to her cheeks, so she looked away, exhaling shakily. No need for Gallagher to notice.

  Damn, but she needed to get over her schoolgirl crush because he was involved with Sabrina Fairfax and even if he wasn’t, he’d called her ‘kid’ twice since she’d been back. It was obvious he didn’t think of her as a grownup and she shouldn’t care—it had been more than a few years since she’d seen him, but the thing of it was…she did care. She cared a whole lot.

  “Are you really gonna let these small town dickhead’s win?” Shane prodded.

  “What’s it to you?” she asked suddenly. She hardly knew Shane. Maybe he was angling to get into her pants? Bobbi was unavailable so she was the next best thing?

  For a moment she considered the possibility. Considered her options. It had been so long since she’d been touched that the idea was almost appealing. Except the glow of throwing sex with Shane in Bobbi’s face would fade fast and as much as she disliked her sister at the moment, there was a line no sister should ever cross.

  Ever.

  Shane Gallagher was off limits.

  “It’s nothing to me,” he moved toward the entrance. “I just think if you cared enough to play, you should put in an appearance is all. You’re part of the team whether they want you to be or not.”

  Billie chewed on her bottom lip. What could having a beer hurt?

  “All right, just one.”

  Besides, when Bobbi found out she’d gone out for beers with Shane she’d hit the roof and that alone would be worth it.

  Chapter Six

  Logan finished his beer, pushed the empty bottle toward Duke, and reached into the front pocket of his jeans for his keys.

  The owner of The Grill looked grumpy as hell and his attitude was even worse. Rumor had it, he and his wife were on the outs and that talk was from a few days ago. Duke grabbed the empty bottle and glared at him. “You want another?”

  It was obvious he and the wife were still out of sorts.

  “I don’t have all night, Forest.”

  Logan shook his head and rolled his shoulders. It had been a long day—truthfully, a long week—and he was ready to call it a night. His teammates were downing jugs of beer but he wasn’t in the mood to celebrate. Not really. His break-up with Sabrina hadn’t gone well and it had bugged him all week.

  He ran fingers along his jaw, keys jangling in his free hand. That was an understatement. The woman had gone into full blown cry mode and he felt like an absolute shit. She’d used the L word and even now it made him wince. But what the hell? He’d never promised her love. He’d never promised her anything except a good time. No fault. No foul.

  But still…

  He shook his head. “Nah, I should head home.”

  And he would have too, except Shane Gallagher strode into The Grill with none other than Billie-Jo Barker on his heels. They had his instant attention, but then again, they had the attention of the entire bar. Gallagher the ex-con and Billie the upstart woman who was on the tongue of every gossip king and queen in New Waterford.

  Shane put his hand to her back and prodded her forward toward the bar. Toward Logan and Duke. Toward the entire team of Angry Pirates. Toward Dearling who looked like an ass-hat with chicken-wing sauce all over his face and his mouth open so wide he’d catch flies for sure. Jason Danvers however, grinned slowly and leaned back in his chair.

  Logan didn’t much care for the calculated, predatorily look on Danver’s face. He didn’t much care for Shane’s hand on Billie’s back either, which was
something he didn’t want to think about.

  “Are you staying or leaving?” Duke asked one more time.

  “I’ll take another,” he answered without thinking.

  “Huh.”

  Logan grabbed the cold beer and nodded as Shane slid into the seat beside him, while they both watched Billie head for the ladies room.

  “I’ll take two cold ones, Duke,” Gallagher signaled the big man behind the bar.

  “I didn’t think she was coming out,” Logan said, taking a swig from his bottle.

  Shane’s eyes lingered on Billie for a half second too long and then he shrugged. “I’m kind of glad she did.”

  “Gallagher,” Logan started, keeping his gaze level as Shane swung back toward him. “She’s Bobbi’s sister. Are you really gonna go there?”

  For a moment Shane’s eyes darkened and his mouth thinned. He nodded as Duke set two cold beers in front of him and then took a long, generous swig before he spoke.

  “Bobbi and I are old news,” He shrugged. “I don’t think she gives a shit who I’m seeing or who I might be interested in.”

  “They’re women...sisters,” Logan answered. “Trust me, they care about that kind of crap.”

  Shane smiled and Logan didn’t quite like the glint in his buddy’s eye.

  “What’s it to you anyway? Aren’t your hands full with Sabrina?”

  “Hey, Duke, how are things?” Billie’s husky voice caught Logan’s attention and his reply to Shane died in his throat.

  He didn’t have a chance to assure his friend that A) He and Sabrina were no longer an item, but more importantly, B) He wasn’t interested in Billie-Jo Barker. She was Betty’s sister and after the hot mess he’d fallen into with the model, he was steering clear of any one of the Barker triplets.

  No way was he getting involved. That was a complication he didn’t need.

  But he could still look out for her. Logan might not know much, but he sure as hell knew Shane Gallagher was way out of Billie-Jo Barker’s league. He’d hurt her. It’s what his friend did. It’s why—in a way—he and Bobbi were made for each other.