by V. K. Sykes
Slowly, Billie turned.
Logan leaned against his truck, hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans, his expression blank. He pushed off and gazed at her for a few moments until the silence became uncomfortable.
“I, uh…”
He arched a brow, but didn’t take his eyes off her.
She knew what he was thinking and didn’t know what to do or say to make it right.
“Thanks for the lift,” she mumbled, eyes skirting away as she exhaled a shaky breath.
“Sure,” Logan answered. “No problem.”
He hopped into his truck and slowly backed out of the driveway.
Billie listened as the motor eventually faded and then she gathered up her hockey gear. She wanted nothing more than to go away and hide. To not face her sister and see the hurt she’d instigated.
But that would take wheels and since her car was out of service for the next few days, she heaved the bag over her shoulder and followed in her sister’s footsteps.
Chapter Nine
By Monday morning word about the damage to Billie’s car had spread throughout New Waterford. The town was small, and though the residents weren’t immune to crime, something as deliberate and mean spirited as what had happened—to one of the Barker triplets no less—made for many animated conversations.
Add to the mix, the fact that Billie had already stirred the pot with her ‘crazy desire to play with the boys’—other people’s words, not his—and Logan couldn’t get away from it.
Hell, he felt bad for what had happened and he’d like nothing more than to get his hands on the asshole responsible, but he had to be honest—he was still pissed about the kiss. About how good it had felt. About how good she had felt. Against his body. In his arms. In his mouth.
Shane had been gone most of Saturday and hadn’t come home until late Sunday night. Three guesses as to who he’d spent all those hours with.
Three guesses as to what they’d been doing because Logan sure as hell knew what he’d be doing if it was him.
Not that Logan should care. He’d decided at some point between stalking the loft and shooting daggers at the evidently empty apartment—and his fifth bottle of beer—that Billie-Jo Barker was off limits.
He’d already been there and done that with her sister, Betty. They had hooked up once a long time ago and she’d totally ignored him afterward. He’d never been able to figure out what made that girl tick and eventually had given up trying. One thing had become crystal clear–the Barker triplets were more trouble than they were worth. All three of them were wired to screw with men.
His jaw clenched as he slid from his truck and locked it, not surprised to see Shane’s bike already parked in his end spot. As he entered his shop, he was however more than a little annoyed to see Billie’s hunk of junk parked in the last bay next to a one-of-a-kind custom bike, due to be delivered to a corporate customer in Flint, by the end of the week.
Why the hell was it in his shop? He was damn sure it should be parked inside Gord’s Garage, not here.
He frowned as his office manager, Janelle walked toward him, coffee in hand. A few years older than Logan, she was happily married with twins, and more than a little grateful they were in school full time. Her long blonde hair was tied back, her trim figure nice to look at in a pair of worn jeans, and a blue sweater that made her eyes pop.
Her lips curved into a half-smile as she stopped a few inches from him, and not for the first time Logan thought of her husband Dave, his first cousin. Lucky bastard.
“Shame what was done to Billie’s car,” she murmured as she offered him an overly large, overly fried, donut.
Logan declined the donut but grabbed the coffee. “Yes, sure is,” he replied.
“Is Shane working on her car?”
Logan’s gaze swung back to the far bay. “Not as far as I know.” His eyes hardened when he spied his friend on his cell. What the hell was Shane thinking getting in the middle of sisters—especially the Barker sisters. Everyone knew they were volatile as hell.
He sipped his drink and started for his office, located on the far side of the shop.
Shane raised his chin in a hello, ear still stuck to his cell as he passed, and Logan nodded in return as he passed all five bays—which were full with two cars and three bikes. He called out greetings to his techs as they readied for another work day and peeked into the ‘shack’, a closed off room just behind his office, where Pete was getting ready to paint a vintage 1967 Mustang.
“Hey boss,” Pete nodded. “I’ll try my best to have this done by the end of the day.”
“I appreciate it, Pete, but there’s no rush. The customer isn’t picking up until Wednesday.”
“Okay,” Pete nodded as he slipped into white coveralls. “But, Gallagher wants the room by tonight.”
Logan’s mouth thinned. Two guesses as to why.
He ducked into his office, tossed his now empty coffee cup into the garbage and then stuck his head outside the door.
“Gallagher, can I see you for a minute?”
Shane had just pocketed his cell and strode over. “What’s up?”
Logan glanced behind him. “Why is Barker’s car here? We’re not equipped to fix cars. We make them.”
Shane looked surprised. He shook an errant strand of long hair that hung in his eyes and arched a brow. “I didn’t think it would be an issue.” He shrugged. “I told Billie I’d work on it for her. I don’t trust Gord. He’s been pretty vocal about her playing in the league.”
“Uh, huh.”
Shane’s eyes narrowed and he leaned his jean clad hip against Logan’s desk. “Why wouldn’t I offer a bit of help? I’d do it for anyone else.”
“Maybe because you work for me and I need you to finish up the bike as it’s going to actually generate some income?” He sounded like a bastard, but Logan couldn’t seem to help himself.
Shane crossed his feet as a slow grin spread across his face.
Logan scowled in return, moved passed his friend and slung his large body into the chair he rarely sat in.
“No worries, boss. I’ll work on the car when I’m done with my…regular duties, if that’s all right.”
“Just don’t let your charity work interfere with the shop.”
There was a pause as Shane straightened. “You know, she’s having a really hard time and not because of,” he waved toward the shop, “all that stuff. It’s everything else. Her career’s in the toilet…her father isn’t good.”
Logan swore beneath his breath and nodded. He thought of Trent Barker. He’d heard rumors that Trent was deteriorating, dementia being the culprit, but he’d not been prepared for how frail and helpless he had appeared to be.
He could only imagine how Billie felt.
“What’s really going on…boss?”
Logan’s scowl deepened. He didn’t much care for Shane’s sarcastic tone—he hated being called boss—or the glint in his friend’s eyes.
“Because if it was anyone else, I don’t think you’d have a problem offering a little help.”
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to get involved.”
Shane’s brows shot up.
“With the Barker sisters.”
“Involved as in…” Shane’s expression was flat and a dangerous vibe filled the room but Logan didn’t give a crap. The guy had always been drawn to chaos and if he thought screwing around with Bobbi and Billie was going to end well for him, he had another thing coming. Considering Shane and Bobbi’s history, it was Billie who would end up in the middle. She’d be the collateral damage.
“Do I need to spell it out, Gallagher?”
“It would help.”
“Do you think Bobbi is going to like the fact that you’re seeing her sister? Do you think that’s going to encourage sibling love and affection?”
Several moments of silence ticked by and Logan hated that every single one of them hammered home the fact that he felt like a damn teenager. Why the hell did he car
e who Shane was having sex with? Was Bobbi’s relationship with her sister really his concern? Hell, he and Bobbi had never been close. She’d been the woman who’d virtually sent his buddy over the edge.
Shane and Bobbi had always been a volatile combination—a powder keg ready to explode—and he’d watched from the sidelines knowing it wasn’t going to be a pretty ending. And when it had finally happened, he’d been right.
Shane had pretty much gone off the deep end and Bobbi had become an absolute bitch.
“You think I’m screwing Billie?” Shane’s voice was even keel, but the hard look in his eyes wasn’t. “You think I’m that guy?”
The door to his office swung open. “Hey, Logan. We just had four tires delivered for Billie’s car.”
His office manager Janelle looked from Logan, back to Shane, and then quietly closed the door behind her.
“Aren’t you?” Logan asked as he stood.
The hard lines of Shane’s face stretched thin over his cheekbones as he grounded out, “no”, before folding his arms across his chest.
“You expect me to believe you guys just shoot the shit and nothing else,” Logan asked incredulously. He thought of Billie’s announcement to her sister. Why would she lie?
For a moment, Shane said nothing, his eyes hooded, his expression fierce. He cocked his head to the side. “I see what this is.”
Shane moved toward the office door. “Believe what you want. I have no reason to lie. I like Billie. I can talk to her. There’s no judging or expectations.” Shane paused, his hand on the doorknob. “I don’t owe you an explanation, Forest, but I’m really curious as to why the hell you care.”
Logan scowled and sank back into his seat. Why indeed?
He thought of Billie’s declaration to Bobbi and realized she hadn’t said she’d slept with Shane, she’d inferred it. It was becoming apparent to Logan that the dynamics between the Barker sisters were screwed. Their relationship shouldn’t matter to him. Billie, shouldn’t matter.
And yet, as he ran fingers over the stubble on his chin, he was more than a little surprised how relieved he felt knowing Billie-Jo wasn’t sleeping with Shane.
So what the hell was up with that?
By Monday evening, not only had four tires been delivered for Billie’s car, a cash donation for paint materials and other incidentals had been dropped off as well. Shane volunteered his labor and Logan agreed to eat any other expenses that were incurred.
By Wednesday afternoon the car looked like a million bucks. Her stereo was shot, so Logan had grabbed an old one from the storage room and traded it out himself. When she arrived near closing time to pick it up, he was just finishing up.
“Hey,” she said as she walked into his shop, voice overly bright, overly fake.
All the techs had left for the day, though Shane was somewhere around. He watched her expressive blue eyes widen as she turned in a full circle. “Wow, Logan. This is really impressive.”
When she caught sight of her car she paused and glanced back at him. “What the…“
She shot a surprised look his way and crossed over to the Honda. Logan couldn’t help it, his gaze rested on the gorgeous curve of her ass and the long waves she’d left to hang down her back.
There was something about hair you could sink your hands into and…
“This can’t be mine. The car looks brand new!”
Logan joined her and nodded. “Shane did most of it, so you can thank him when you see him.”
Her fingers ran along the top of the hood, pausing where the word ‘pussy’ had been scratched into the paint. Shane had ground it out—luckily the scratches had only been surface damage, and the paint job looked mint.
Billie’s cheeks were red and she tucked a long piece of hair behind her ears—obviously nervous. When she turned to him, her bottom lip was tucked between her teeth in a way that would make a porn star proud.
For a moment, he saw her plump lips sliding across his skin, skimming over his belly, down to his—
“I don’t’ know…this is a lot more than the estimate. Shane said it would be around five hundred bucks, but those tires look new and they’ve got to be double that alone.”
Her soft white sweater hugged curves that no female athlete should have. Not one who played hockey better than most men. And yet, as she tucked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans he took a moment to appreciate said curves, his gaze lingering on the swell of her breasts. When he finally met her gaze again, the blush that stained her cheeks intensified.
Billie-Jo Barker was hot as hell.
He cleared his throat and grabbed her keys from his front pocket. “It’s all good, Billie. There’s no charge.”
Her brow furrowed. “What? That doesn’t make sense.” She gazed at him directly, her eyes wide, sparkling with something…he wasn’t sure what, but he felt it all the way down to his toes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Logan knew this woman was going to prove dangerous to him in more ways than one. “I can pay my own bill, thanks. I don’t need your charity.”
“This isn’t charity. A hell of a lot of people feel bad about what happened.” His voice lowered, as a wave of anger rolled through him. He’d been right pissed when he’d seen the extent of the damage, and when he found out who was responsible there would be hell to pay.
In that moment Logan made a conscious decision to ignore the little voice inside him, the one that said back off. The one that said getting involved with Billie-Jo Barker wasn’t a great idea. The one that said Betty had been bad enough, but this one…she was going to be all kinds of trouble.
It left him strangely exhilarated.
“It’s not right,” she said carefully. “I’ve got enough on me to pay the estimate in cash and I’ll put the rest on my card.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew a credit card, chin thrust out, mouth set into a determined line.
“It’s kind of hard to pay a bill when there isn’t one.”
Her eyes flashed again and her cheeks filled with color. “Look, Logan, I just feel weird about this.” She licked her lips and his damn gut tightened along with everything else south of his waist.
She really was fucking adorable. He could string this along and make her twitch a hell of a lot more, but watching her bite her bottom lip in agitation had all sorts of inappropriate thoughts running through his mind. Jesus, there were several places he’d love to see her lips…and that tongue…
She must have read his mind because he saw her stiffen. He took a step back and nodded toward the car. “Billie, this isn’t charity. It’s made a lot of people feel good to help you out. The tires just kind of showed up Monday. If you want to thank someone for that, give Jackie Everett a call. She rallied the local girl’s hockey league and they got involved too. Cash donations came in and they pretty much covered all the other expenses. Hell, even Duke brought over beers and wings for the techs.” He nodded to the car. “We installed an alarm system so the next time someone decides to mess with your car they’ll be in for one hell of a surprise.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
Her eyes shimmered and the two of them stared at each other for several long moments. They stared at each other for so long in fact, that when Shane shouted a ‘hello’ from across the shop they both jumped.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he answered finally. Logan held out the keys and nodded toward the now open bay door. “I’ll see you Friday night.”
Her fingers grazed his as she stepped forward to grab the keys from him.
“Thank you, Logan.” She paused. “About the other day and what happened…”
Logan’s gut tightened at the thought. “Yeah,” he said carefully, watching the play of emotion on her face.
“I’m sorry. I was upset and I…it won’t happen again.”
Logan lowered his head. He inhaled her subtle, clean scent and stifled a groan. What was it about this girl that made him feel like a teenager again? A damn horny teenager.
&nbs
p; “I think you’re wrong, kid,” he whispered near her ear.
A soft sound escaped her lips. A sound that made him tight and hard. As much as he wanted to pursue the moment he knew enough to back off. The timing wasn’t exactly right with Shane grinning at him from the shadows. He’d take his time with this one.
He had the feeling she’d be worth it.
Chapter Ten
Billie arrived at the arena a half hour before the game. She’d been ready for at least an hour, but had paced her bedroom for most of it. She’d seriously thought about ditching hockey. The guys didn’t want her there anyway, and really, who was she to stir the pot and upset so many people?
Just this morning, Ike, at the coffee shop had complained loud and clear about his views on a woman playing in the men’s league. They weren’t favorable and they weren’t subtle. In his opinion—which he shared with everyone in earshot—it was plain wrong. It was men’s hockey and a man should be able to have one night in the sanctity of a locker room without any female presence. How in hell could you scratch your balls and fart when there was a woman on the bench?
Billie thought of Dearling and clearly, some of the guys had no problem with this.
But maybe he had a point? She could have played in a mixed league in the city, or joined the local women’s league but the skill level just wasn’t the same.
For two whole seconds she considered Ike’s arguments, and then as her gaze settled on a framed photo—taken just after she’d scored an Olympic medal winner—something inside her stirred. Something fierce and full of need.
She grabbed her jacket—passed Herschel on his way up to her father’s room with a cup of tea—and kissed his cheek.
“Give ‘em hell, sweets.”
“I will,” she’d murmured quietly and then proceeded down the stairs where she’d pointedly ignored Bobbi who was in the kitchen making Gerald Dooley a goopy, gross dessert.
Gerald smiled, though it dimmed somewhat as Bobbi shoved a bowl in front of him. “Heading to the game?”
“Yup.”
