Logan shook his head. “Nothing at all.”
“Billie-Jo,” Frank Talbot said gently. “It’s beer league hockey and these boys are pretty set in their ways. Why would you want to play with the men?” His warning was subtle but there nonetheless.
[i]Because hockey is my life and I pretty much have nothing else to do[i].
“Besides,” Talbot continued. “You had one hell of a concussion two months ago. Do you really think you should be going back out on the ice?”
“I’m fine, Mr. Talbot. There’s no contact. I’ll be good.” [i]I’ll stay out of the corners.[i]
“But why do you want to play beer league hockey? It’s way below your skill level,” Talbot pressed.
“Hey, Frank,” Seth ground out. “I wouldn’t be so quick to diss our league. There are more than a few of us who played competitively. There’s a lot of talent out there.” He turned back to Billie. “I just don’t know why she wants to play with us.”
She smiled sweetly at Seth. “Because I can.”
Seth’s entire face was mottled mess of red. His cheeks were puffed out like a blowfish. He shook his head. “No way. We’ll pulverize you out there.”
Same old. Same old. “Really?” Billie eyed him. “You’d have to catch me first and you know what I think? I think you’re afraid to let me into your,” she paused and sneered, “boy’s club because you can’t stand the fact that I’ve always been better than you.”
“That’s bullshit,” Seth ground out. “She can’t...there’s no way in hell…the guys won’t go for it.”
Billie glanced at Logan.
Logan shrugged. “I think you’re looking for trouble, Billie. But from what I can see no one can stop you.”
“Oh Lordy.” She heard Mr. Talbot whisper.
“Good.” For the first time since she’d come home, Billie felt a spark of life. And it felt damn good. So good in fact, that she’d do whatever it took to keep it going.
“Wait a minute.” Seth made one last try. “You’re not old enough. Rules say you have to be twenty-five and if I remember correctly you’re younger than me.”
“Not for long.” Billie quipped. “I turn twenty-five next Friday.”
“Shit,” Seth said savagely.
She licked her lips, enjoying the moment. “Friday the 13th , kind of appropriate don’t you think?”
Seth shot another dark look toward them all before heading out into the blinding sunlight. “This is bullshit.”
Billie’s buzz lasted for exactly five seconds. Long enough for Mr. Talbot to mutter ‘oh Lordy’ at least ten times and long enough for Logan to take two steps closer until his spicy smell penetrated her fog.
He handed an envelope over to Mr. Talbot. “My registration and check are in there.” He paused for a moment. “It’s good to see you back, Billie and I admire your...attitude. But I sure as hell hope you know what you’re doing.”
He held her gaze, for what seemed like [i]forever[i] and then nodded to Mr. Talbot. Billie watched him walk away, his long stride, easy and controlled. He’d walked away from her once before, though his gait hadn’t been quite as controlled and she’d been—
“Are you really going to do this?” Mr. Talbot asked urgently.
Billie-Jo Barker nodded and reached for a pen. “Damn right I am,” she grinned. “Where do I sign up?”
Mr. Talbot ran his fingers through the wiry hair atop his head as the bell above his door tinkled. Several customers marched into the store, including Mike Walker, owner of Walker’s Hardware store, conveniently located next to Talbot Sports.
A frown marred his normally amiable face and he didn’t bother with a ‘hello’. Impressive eyebrows raised, Mike Walker glared at Frank and narrowed his eyes. Voice gruff, he barked. “What’s this I hear about a woman playing in our hockey league?”
Frank Talbot muttered to no one in particular, “oh Lordy,” and then said a small prayer.
Chapter Two
“So did Logan Forest ever marry?”
Billie scooped a generous helping of broccoli onto her plate and passed the bowl to her sister, Bobbi. She avoided Bobbi’s narrowed gaze and instead, topped up her wine glass before raising it in mock toast to her Grandfather.
Herschel Barker, still dressed in white coveralls and barely cleaned up from working outside, raised his glass in return and chugged his merlot like it was a mug of beer. Billie’s grin widened as she set her glass down on the table. The Barker’s would never be a classy bunch—her gaze swung back to her sister—no matter how hard Bobbi tried. And considering the three girls had been blessed with the monikers, Bobbi-Jo, Betty-Jo and yours truly, Billie-Jo, well…they’d started out behind the eight ball so to speak.
Her sister picked at the smoked salmon on her plate and turned to Billie, perfectly cut bob swishing around her chin as she slowly chewed her food, in a nice, precise, manner. Billie had no idea when this transformation from bad girl to stick in the mud had occurred, but she sure as heck didn’t like it. Bobbi-Jo had been a lot more fun the last time she’d been home.
[i]And[i], her sister was now dating Gerald Dooley, the most boring, anal man on the planet. Sure he was good looking and had boatloads of money, but ugh…he was all wrong for Bobbi. His wardrobe was as boring as he was and his back was so stiff and proper, Billie was sure something long and hard was shoved up his—
“Logan Forest?” Bobbi said slowly, as if the name on her lips was distasteful. “I thought Betty was the one who had a thing for him.”
Billie didn’t say anything, though the mention of their sister was enough to make her gut clench.
Bobbi’s expertly waxed eyebrows arched, just so, and her gaze moved to Gerald who regarded Billie like she was a visitor from another planet.
“Logan Forest will never get married. Guys like him never do. They like their freedom way too much.” Bobbi paused, her eyes narrowing so much the hazel green disappeared altogether. “But why talk about him when we can discuss this harebrained idea you have about playing hockey in the men’s league?”
Billie pushed her plate away, aware that even her Grandfather was paying attention. Herschel shoved his ball cap back on his forehead, grabbed the bottle of wine and settled in to watch the fireworks. Nothing like a good dustup at the Barker residence and when more than one triplet was in residence, there was always friction.
Except, her head hurt a little and she didn’t feel like getting into it with her sister. At least, not with Gerald Dooley staring at her like she was an idiot.
“It’s not a big deal, Bobbi. It’s hockey.”
Her sister snorted—[i]actually snorted[i]—and took a sip of wine as she tossed a ‘can-you-believe-her’ look at her [i]boyfriend[i].
“I beg to differ.” Bobbi shook her head. “I was in the salon today and it’s all anyone is talking about. Why, I had to chastise the shampoo girl, [i]twice[i], because she was so busy gabbing about you that she got shampoo in my eye.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Billie retorted.
“Well, believe it. You walked into Talbot Sports at nine o’clock this morning and by noon half of New Waterford was in an uproar.” Her sister leaned forward. “You’re not fifteen anymore, Billie. Women don’t play men’s beer league hockey. It’s just…oh God, it’s just wrong and stupid.”
Her sister’s attitude stung. She’d at least thought Bobbi would understand her need for the game. Her need to do something that mattered—something that made her feel alive. She’d been drifting without an anchor since she’d been cut from the team and sent home.
Damaged goods is what she was. Unusable. Washed up.
“She’s got a point.” Gerald inserted. “Besides, where would you shower?”
They both turned to Gerald and gave him ‘the look’, which in turn, had him clearing his throat and offering a weak grin. “It was a joke. Of course she wouldn’t shower with the men…that would be inappropriate.”
“Are you for real?” Billie snapped. This guy was
a lawyer?
“Seems to me,” Gerald Dooley tried once more, “you might utilize your time better by finding a job.” He looked at her pointedly. “I could work something out at the law firm, there might be a position coming up.”
“Seems to me…[i]Gerry[i],” Billie said sweetly, “my job situation, actually, my life situation isn’t any of your business.”
Besides, she had money set aside. Sure it wouldn’t last forever, but her agent had worked damn hard to score her a number of endorsements and she had enough to tide her over until she decided what she wanted to do with her life.
She had a lot of options, just none that appealed to her at the moment.
“Billie, you don’t have to be so rude.” Bobbi was pissed. She tossed her thick curtain of hair and the expertly straightened pieces fell like dominos across her creamy white skin. Scarlet tipped fingers gripped the stem of her wine glass so tightly her knuckles were white.
Good. Billie liked this pissed off version of her sister a lot more than the wimped out Stepford Wife she’d come home to. And the woman wasn’t even married—she glared at Gerald—[i]yet[i].
Billie pushed her chair back and grabbed her glass of wine. “I’m not doing this right now.”
“Go ahead. Run away like you always do.” Her sister’s perfect demeanor was starting to crack. Her voice rose a notch and she tossed her napkin onto her plate.
“Now girls,” Gerald began.
“Shush.” Bobbi hissed at him and then glared at her sister.
Gerald frowned but remained silent. [i]Pussy[i].
“Run away? What’s that supposed to mean?” Billie got to her feet. How the hell had a normal family dinner disintegrated into a mess in under five minutes? This had to be some kind of record.
“Oh please,” Bobbi said. “You’ve been running away from here for as long as I can remember. Ever since the day you put on a pair of skates.”
“Watch it, Bobbi. You’re starting to sound, oh I don’t know…a bit jealous.”
“Jealous? Of you?!” Her sister snorted—again—and stood as well. The two of them faced off—identical versions of each other for the most part, and yet, they’d never been so far apart. Billie had to clamp down hard on the hurt that bubbled inside her. Where had all this anger come from? Bobbi had never been so damn condescending. Or nasty.
Bitchy sure, but she’d never stood on a holier-than-thou pedestal. Billie’s hands twitched as she set her glass down and squared her shoulders. It was time she pushed her sister off the damn thing but Gramps would have her ass if she broke any of their late Grandmother’s crystal.
“Bobbi I hate to point it out to you, but your perfect skin has taken on a new shade of green and it’s not a nice color, like emerald or anything.” Billie leaned in for the kill. “It’s more like that puke shade…you know, the one called jealous.”
Her sister was now livid. If she were a dragon smoke would be blowing out her ears frying everything in sight.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Bobbi took a step round the table, her fitted black blouse expanding as she exhaled loudly, creating little gaps between the buttons. “Why would I [i]ever[i] be jealous of you?” Her voice rose yet another notch. “I’m proud of the things you’ve accomplished. You’ve played in an Olympic tournament—”
“Actually, that would be two Olympics,” Herschel nodded and held up two fingers. He waved them slowly back and forth before resting his elbows on the table. “Two.” He added once more with a quick wink.
“Whatever, Gramps.” Bobbi wouldn’t be deterred. “My point is, you’ve had some early successes Billie, but they’re behind you now and it’s time to get real. You had your fun and honestly—”
“Yes,’ Billie’s heart was racing again and she felt more than a little lightheaded. The knot in her stomach twisted a little more. “By all means, let’s be honest.”
Bobbi arched her brow again in that way that made Billie’s teeth crunch together. “Okay, I’m going to be brutally honest.”
The room went quiet and everyone was focused on her sister, who had the floor. Bobbi glanced over to Gerald as if she needed his permission to speak and that one small gesture left such a bad taste in Billie’s mouth that she nearly gagged. When Dooley nodded, ever so subtlety, Billie’s fists balled and she shouted. [i]Why are you here? What have you done with my sister?[i]
And yet nothing came out.
“Like I said, you’ve had your fun and now it’s time to grow up. I’m sick of being the only responsible Barker triplet. I’m sick of Betty flying off every few months and we never know when she’s going to come home. When the princess does grace us with her presence, she sleeps all day and parties all night. She’s like a damn vampire. If she wants to move out…then move out already.”
Billie opened her mouth but her sister didn’t let her get a word in.
Bobbi threw her hand up. “And don’t you dare tell me she’s modelling all that time she spends away. I don’t think she’s had a regular paying gig in a nearly six months. Her nose isn’t clean and we both know it.”
Billie’s heart tightened a little more, mostly because what her sister said was the truth.
“I’m pissed that for a lot of years I had an absent father because he was always somewhere with you.” She threw her hands in the air. “A hockey tournament in Canada. Another one in Washington.” Bobbi’s voice was getting hoarse. “Hey, let’s fly to Timbuktu and while we’re at it, let’s blow all the college fund money on a stupid pipe dream that got you nothing but a wasted education, a half-baked career in Europe and a body that you can’t trust.”
Tears filled Billie’s eyes but she refused to let them fall.
“Twins!” They all looked toward Gramps. “Enough!”
Gerald looked confused, but Billie wasn’t about to explain to him that their Grandfather had always called them ‘twins’, even though they were three girls. Sometimes he went weeks without using their names. He’d just shout out [i]twin[i] or [i]twins[i] depending on how many were present.
Billie stared at her sister, feeling utterly defeated. “What happened to you?” she whispered. There wasn’t one soft, approachable thing about her. It was like staring into a mirror and seeing what Billie would look like if every single emotion that made her human was gone. “You used to be fun and easy…and real.” She gulped. “Badass. Leather, jeans, and too much makeup.” Billie shook her head, trying to understand. “Now you’re all perfect and manicured, fitted skirts and,” she glanced at Gerald. “Three piece suits.”
Bobbi stared at her for a few moments, her eyes glittery and hard. “Life happened, Billie. Dad being sick happened. This house and the bills that go along with it happened. [i]They happened to me[i]. While Betty was off modeling lingerie and bikinis and you were in Europe living your dream, I was here, looking after Dad and Gramps.” She paused. “And I did it while working my way through night school.”
“I had no idea you were so bitter about things.”
“It’s not about being bitter.” Bobbi looked exasperated. “You don’t get it. For most regular folk, life isn’t about dreams. It’s about working and putting food on the table and making sure the bills get paid. It’s about being realistic. Not everyone gets to reach for the stars no matter what dad told you. I didn’t. My stars are here. In in this house. In this town that I’ll never be able to leave.”
“It’s not my fault you stayed.” Billie was breathing heavy.
“Someone had to,” Bobbi retorted. “So I did. I was the responsible one and it drives me bonkers that you’re moping over something as stupid as hockey. Did you really think you’d be on the ice forever?”
Bobbi shook her head, disgusted. “You’re twenty-five years old and you have no degree because you quit college to move to Europe and play hockey. You followed a money trail that dried up and kicked you to the curb the moment your head hit those boards.”
Stunned, Billie could barely form words. “You think I played hockey for the mon
ey?” Did her sister understand so little of what make her tick?
“Yes I do. Money and glory go hand in hand and you basked in it as long as you could, both you and Betty. The two of you were always in the limelight, soaking up the attention and not thinking about a future without it. Now you’re home with nothing to show for all the sacrifices this family has made over the years.”
[i]Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry[i].
The words were like a mantra in Billie’s head. She repeated them, over and over again. When that didn’t work she focused on the way Bobbi’s perfectly straight bangs hung like a curtain over her brows, the edges wisped just so.
[i]Breathe. Don’t cry[i].
“Maybe that knock to the head did a lot more damage than the doctors think. I’m not [i]jealous[i] of you, Billie-Jo. I feel sorry for you.”
Those words nearly undid her, but Billie hung on until the roaring in her head subsided and she was empty inside. It was like taking a penalty shot in a big game. She made everything disappear and focused, except instead of taking a shot, at this moment she was just trying to hold it together.
For several long seconds, nothing but silence filled the gaps between them. And the gaps were huge—they were wide and deep—nearly insurmountable.
Gramps cleared his throat, his faded blue eyes kind in their regard as he gazed upon her—maybe a little sad even—and Billie had to look away or she would start bawling. There was no way in hell she was going to give her sister that kind of satisfaction.
Billie slowly exhaled and reached for her wine glass. Gramps handed her the half empty wine bottle and she accepted it without hesitation, though even a case of wine wasn’t going to ease her pain tonight.
“Well, then. I have no idea how a conversation about men’s hockey devolved into a discussion on the sad state of my life, but thanks for your…honesty, Bobbi,” she swallowed. “Much appreciated.”
Billie took a step back from the dining room table. “Oh and Gerry?”
Gerald Dooley, who’d been standing near the doorway for the last five minutes, unsure whether to flee the Barker family madness or stay, looked a tad shell-shocked when he met her gaze.
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