“Let’s get out of here.” His intention was to have, [i]the talk[i], the break-up chat. She was getting too comfortable and that led to problems. The signs had been there for a while. That last time she’d spent the night at his house he’d woken up to find his clothes freshly laundered and folded. Bad sign. Hell, she’d probably have put them away except he’d stopped her cold.
Yep, too damn comfortable, which, for some guy out there would be cool, but not for him. [i]She[i] wasn’t for him.
Sabrina glanced toward Billie once more and smiled, a sly, sexy smile. “Sounds good to me,” she purred.
He knew she thought they were heading straight to bed and if he were some other guy, he’d take the offer, use her body to alleviate some of the frustration he felt and blow her off the next morning. Except Logan wasn’t that kind of guy. He didn’t want to hurt her. It wasn’t Sabrina Fairfax’s problem that his feelings didn’t run down the permanent road she was travelling. He sighed and nodded toward the door.
It was going to be a long night.
Chapter Four
Billie loaded her hockey bag into the back of her car and placed two sticks alongside it before slamming the door shut. She was running behind, after taping both sticks. A quick glance at her watch told her she had to be on the ice in forty-five minutes, so she needed to get her butt in gear.
“So, you’re really going through with this.”
Billie turned from her vehicle and faced her sister. They’d not talked at all since their disastrous dinner a week ago. Both of the girls had gone out of their way to avoid the other. It was for the best considering the Barker triplets’ tempers had always run hot and they’d learned a long time ago to leave each other alone when things got dicey.
Billie studied her sister. Bobbi and Gerald were taking a weekend trip to some swank bed-and-breakfast an hour north of town. They were leaving within the hour. Billie had hoped she’d be able to escape without a confrontation, but she supposed it was too much to ask for and maybe it was time to clear the air.
She just needed it to happen in less than two minutes.
“Looks like it.” Billie quipped before moving around her sister and heading toward the wide porch steps. She’d left her Gatorade in the kitchen and once she had it was good to go.
“Did you know that Jackie Everett isn’t sleeping with her husband?”
Billie rolled her eyes and turned back to her sister. [i]Here we go[i].
Bobbi stood at the bottom of the steps, dressed to the nines in a fitted moss green coat with a fur ruffle at the collar and indigo-blue skinny jeans tucked into simple black leather boots. Her hair, straight as ever without even one piece out of place, curved around her perfectly made up features. She looked so cold…so [i]plastic[i], like there was nothing real inside her anymore. For a second, a sliver of remorse rifled through Billie. Was she somehow responsible for the woman her sister had become?
Billie smoothed her hands over the soft, denim at her hips and arched a brow. “I’m not sure why you think I care if Duke and his wife actually sleep together.” Though to be honest, she was surprised. Duke and Jackie were two people who’d always been madly in love, but she supposed that kind of flame was hard to keep burning.
Bobbi’s eyes narrowed. “This is a recent development and it’s your fault.”
Okay, her sister was bordering on crazy. What the hell had Gerald done to her?
“My fault?” Billie threw her hands up in the air, when all she wanted to do was wrap them around her sister’s neck and squeeze until Bobbi’s head popped off. “I’m sure you’re dying to fill me in on why it’s my fault, but to be blunt it’s none of my business and I don’t care.”
“You should care. They’re fighting because of you.”
“Me?” Billie took a step down, visualizing her hands tearing into her sisters perfectly coiffed hair. A smile touched her mouth at the thought. Maybe she could smudge her poppy red lipstick while she was at it. “How is the fact that Duke’s not getting any, my fault?”
“Because they’re arguing about your need to play hockey with a bunch of men, that’s why. Duke, like most of us, thinks you’re being ridiculous and apparently Jackie thinks he’s being an asshole.”
A slow burn erupted inside Billie and she took the last step until she was only a few inches from her sister. “Well, if that’s what he thinks then I’d say Jackie’s got it right. He [i]is[i] being an asshole.”
“Asshole or not, Duke and Jackie aren’t the only ones at odds over your plan to infiltrate the men’s league.”
Billie arched a brow. “Infiltrate? Seriously? You make it sound like I’m pulling a James Bond or something. It’s just hockey and besides, why does anyone care what I do?” She leaned toward Bobbi and her sister had the good notion to take a step back. “Why do [i]you[i] care? You should have your hands full with [i]Gerry[i], or is he not enough to keep you satisfied?”
Bobbi’s eyes narrowed and her cheeks flushed crimson. “You’re such a bitch.”
Billie shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.” She paused as a thought crossed her mind. “I saw Shane Gallagher the other night at The Grill. He asked me to dance.” It was a lie, but totally worth it to see her sister’s anger triple in less time than it had taken Billie to utter the lie. For the first time since she’d returned to New Waterford, her sister was showing some life.
[i]I knew she wasn’t over him[i].
“He looks damn, good.” Billie said softly.
“For a criminal,” Bobbi retorted.
Billie shook her head. “No, he looks damn good, period, but then he always did.”
Bobbi eyes narrowed. “You did [i]not[i] dance with him.”
“I did.” Billie went for the kill. “Why wouldn’t I? I wanted to see for myself what he has that gets your panties in such a knot and now I know…”
“Know?” Bobbi was livid and for the first time since she’d been home, Billie was enjoying herself immensely. “There’s nothing to know. Shane and I had a…a thing a few years ago but it was nothing more than a…a…”
Billie’s grin widened as she interrupted her stuttering sister. “The man kisses like he’s been doing it for years, which, I suppose with his looks he has, and it makes me wonder…”
“Wonder?” Bobbi arched a brow and her voice dropped into that dangerous zone that Billie usually avoided, but she was having way too much fun to listen to the voice of reason inside her head.
“Well,” Billie shrugged, “which one of us he prefers.” Her brow furled as if she was lost in thought.
Bobbi inhaled sharply and took a step forward. For a second Billie thought her sister was going to punch her, but then a low rumble interrupted them as Gerald Dooley’s large, expensive, flashy, truck pulled up behind Billie’s modest Honda.
Gerald stepped down from the truck, his expression somewhat cautious, as he approached the girls. Billie didn’t bother to hide her disgust. The man’s jeans were ironed for Christ sake. Who did that?
He nodded toward Billie. “Big game tonight.”
“Yep.” Billie moved back up the stairs, suddenly glad her sister was leaving. Glad the tension would follow her. Glad she could get out on the ice and forget. “Surprised, you’re not staying to watch.”
“Oh,” Gerald mumbled. “I didn’t…well, we didn’t…”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Bobbi snapped. “Why would we encourage her?”
Billie’s hand was on the front door when her sister managed to get underneath her skin one last time.
“Just make sure you take some time out from your busy schedule wrecking marriages and playing tonsil hockey with Shane Gallagher to check on Dad tonight.”
“Shane?” Gerald piped up. “He’s back in town?”
Both girls ignored him and Billie’s chest tightened as she stared at her sister. The feeling of lightness, that wonderful anticipation she always felt before a game was long gone.
“Don’t worry about Dad,” she said quietly be
fore disappearing into the house. She ran to the kitchen, grabbed two bottles of Gatorade and was happy to see Gerald’s truck gone when she returned to her car.
“Break a leg, sweets.” Gramps followed her out and grinned down at her from the porch as she slid into her Honda.
She laughed. “I’ll try not to.” She threw the car into reverse and waved. “I won’t be long. Home right after the game.”
Gramps shook his head. “Don’t you worry about us old men. There’s a [i]Criminal Minds[i] marathon on the TV. We’ll keep busy. You go out with your team and have fun.”
Billie’s gaze moved upward and her heart clutched when her eyes settled on the dim light that fell from her father’s room. A shadow lingered there, once tall but now bent over with age and sickness.
“I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” she murmured and reversed out of the driveway.
Less than ten minutes later Billie hauled her hockey gear down the wide steps that led to the changing rooms beneath New Waterford’s twin pads. Always a diehard, she’d never invested in bags with wheels, preferring to carry her equipment and the only time she’d ever let anyone else lug her gear around was in Europe.
She paused at the bottom, aware that a lot of male eyes followed her progress as well as more than a few girlfriends and wives. She felt their interest. She felt it sharply and though she was used to attention, this was different. It was in the covert whispers behind hands, the pokes and nods and the way most eyes slid in the other direction when they met Billie’s.
A quick glance told her that Logan was nowhere in sight and the nervous tension in her belly dissipated when she realized he wasn’t around. Which she supposed said something, but for the moment she didn’t really want to think about Logan Forest. Or Logan and Sabrina Fairfax for that matter.
Or the fact that they’d left The Grill together last Friday and it was obvious they were heading back to Logan’s to…well, what else would Logan do with someone like Sabrina? It’s not like they’d settle in for an early evening of cards and Jeopardy. There’s only one thing Sabrina Fairfax would be doing with a man like Forest.
[i] Exactly what I’d be doing[i].
Her cheeks burned at the thought and she cleared her throat, yanking her bag a little higher.
Logan had emailed her Wednesday with their schedule and she knew their team was called the ‘Angry Pirates’. The name somehow fit and she perused the large board on the wall until she found her dressing room inked in black marker.
2B—Angry Pirates
2C—Barker
It was good to see they’d given Billie her own room because, truthfully, she’d expected nothing more than a damn closet or the bathroom.
She made her way down the hall, ignoring the stares, glares and yes, even the odd, deluded, and salacious eye on her butt. Already, the familiar pregame nerves jolted her system and she was anxious to get into her equipment and out onto the ice.
Billie found 2C down near the end of the hallway on her right. She pushed open the door and...
Mike Dearling, who on a good day tipped the scales at three hundred pounds, stood a few feet away scratching his butt with the end of his hockey stick. A normal gesture to be sure, but when you took into account the fact that Mike Dearling was buck naked and grinning at her as if he’d just scored a hat-trick in a championship game, it was enough to make Billie’s stomach roil.
She took a moment and tore her gaze from the fur that covered the man’s considerable backside and her eyes nearly popped out of her head. A few feet beyond him, Jason Danvers was doing the same, though he wasn’t scratching anything and he sure as hell wasn’t three hundred pounds.
But he was as naked as the day he was born.
She glanced from Danvers, back to Dearling and was proud of the fact that she’d kept her cool. Every single eye of the twelve men in the room was on her. Logan sat on the bench, halfway up the room with a surprised look on his face. His pants, shin pads and skates were on, though his chest was bare and she was more than aware of just how good the man looked. An intricate tattoo wrapped his left bicep in black ink and another adorned his right shoulder.
He looked bad ass. He looked ripped. He looked so damn yummy, it was all she could do to tear her gaze away and look elsewhere.
Billie-Jo Barker was in the middle of a dressing-room chalk full of testosterone, half naked men and—Mike Dearling’s grin widened as he walked toward her and let one rip—gas.
She knew what was going on. A quick switch of numbers and these idiots thought a little bit of naked man flesh was enough to send her packing. They thought their scratching and hairy body parts would scare her.
Billie glared at Mike. They had no Goddamn clue what she could put up with.
None.
Mike kept walking until he was so close that an impressive amount of body odor hit her full blast. Mixed with his early start on the beers, she wrinkled her nose and watched as his grin widened.
“What’s wrong, Barker?” Mike rubbed his belly and it jiggled grotesquely. “You a little rattled?”
Snickers greeted him and Billy set her bag down. She gave him a once over, taking her time as she slowly perused every inch of his sorry hide. “Nope. Not rattled so much as…” her voice trailed off. The game was changing but Mike was either too stupid or too drunk to realize it.
He nodded, thinking he had her. “This is what it’s all about little girl. We play hockey. We drink. We burp and fart—”
“Speak for yourself, Dearling.” Logan inserted sarcastically as a few men chuckled.
Mike’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t want you here and if you’re rattled before we even head out onto the ice—”
Billie cocked her head, but remained cool as a cucumber. “Clean your ears out Dearling, or are they full of hair too? I said I wasn’t rattled, so much as embarrassed.”
“You should be embarrassed.” Jason Danvers piped in, though now at least his junk was safely tucked away inside his long-johns. “This is a men’s league.”
Billie moved her focus from Mike to Jason for just a moment. The guy was good looking—Hollywood type good looking—but he’d always been an arrogant asshole and had a chip on his shoulder because every Barker triplet had turned him down. Even Betty and she was the easy one.
Billie stared at him hard until he looked away and then she turned back to Mike. “I’m not embarrassed for myself, Mike. I’m really, really, sorry for you.”
Mike’s ruddy complexion darkened and he swore beneath his breath as he took a step toward her. He was too close and it took everything inside Billie, to stay put and not move backward. “Why the fuck would you feel sorry for me?” he asked harshly.
Billie looked him straight in the eye. Slowly, she let her gaze drop past the flabby stomach and then she arched her brow dramatically. Hell, Betty would be proud.
“Well, for starters you smell like shit.” She hoisted her bag onto her shoulders and then met his eyes once more. “And secondly,” she paused, noticing the flush that crept up his chest and onto his neck. “That is the smallest dick I’ve ever seen.”
Someone laughed and she thought Mike’s head was going to explode. His eyes were wide, the whites bloodshot and his cheeks were puffed up to twice their size.
“Seriously,” she paused dramatically. “It’s not even cold in here.”
A full blown guffaw echoed in the silence and though Logan bent over to tie up his skates, she thought she saw a whisper of a smile on his face.
She glanced around the room one more time and made sure to make eye contact with each and every one of them. Shane Gallagher tipped his head as if to say, good job. “We’re on the ice in ten minutes. I’ll see you boys out there.”
She turned and exited the dressing room, leaving the Angry Pirates subdued, quiet and some of them hurrying like hell to cover up their privates.
Chapter Five
The game was over way before Billie was ready for it to be. God, it felt so good to be flying aroun
d the ice, weaving through bodies, setting up plays and scoring goals. Sure it had started out rough, but then it’s not like she’d expected open arms or anything.
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 dialled 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.
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