by V. K. Sykes
“Gallagher got you home safe last night?”
Billie nodded, afraid to answer because she was sure the damn frog caught in her throat was still there. She put the back of her hand to her face and tried to clear her throat as covertly as she could.
“Ah, yes, I got home all right.”
“How’s your side?”
“It’s good,” she answered quickly—awkwardly. “A little sore, but I should be able to play next week.”
Logan didn’t respond for a moment and when he did, his voice was lower, thicker, and the sound of it sent shivers rolling along her skin. Shivers that liquefied. Shivers that made her ache.
“So, about last night…” he took another step toward her and then paused.
He was so close right now that she could see the way his muscles bunched along his shoulders. The tendons strained in his biceps, like he was nervous or anxious, or maybe a little pissed. He had warned her last night and she hadn’t listened. She hadn’t played smart. She’d goaded Longwood and his teammates because she’d wanted to prove something to them. She’d wanted them to know that she was better than they were. She’d wanted to pound that home. She’d hot-dogged it out there on the ice, and now had nothing to show for it but a group of men who disliked her more than they had before, and ten stitches in her side.
“Last night shouldn’t have happened,” Logan said quietly.
Something pierced her inside, a pain that brought tears to the corners of her eyes. It smarted and she blinked rapidly, hating the fake eyelashes Tracy had insisted she wear. Hating everything in that moment—everything that had brought her here, back to New Waterford.
Did Logan think it was a mistake she was playing in the league? Was he going to ask her to quit?
I can’t. She had to make him understand. Hockey was her life. It was all she had—as pathetic as that sounded—and she couldn’t give it up. She wouldn’t.
“Logan, I know I asked for it. I mean, I stole the puck off Seth more times than I can count, and I shot at Cronkwright real steady, and not just at Cronkwright,” she licked her lips but was unable to stop the train wreck that was her mouth. “I mean, I hit his helmet at least a dozen times. Hard. A dozen hard shots to the head and, well, at least five or six at his crotch. I…”
He was staring down at her like she’d lost her mind. And maybe she had, but damn if she was going to leave before he knew how sorry she was.
“Logan, I…”
She didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence because his hands were on her. Those long, warm, fingers wrapped around her wrists, pulling her closer to that delicious scent that clung to him. That delicious scent that could only screw her up more than she already was.
He bent down and the spike of heat inside her tripled. She held her breath, not knowing what to expect, and when the warmth from his mouth fell over her neck, she nearly sagged into him. The only thing holding her steady and away from him was the express knowledge that every single set of eyes in the immediate area was focused on the two of them.
“Billie, you’ve got nothing to be sorry about. Last night was unacceptable. The behavior of the guys on that team was unacceptable. But trust me, I paid a visit to Longwood this afternoon and it won’t happen again, not if that asshole wants to stay in one piece.”
She pulled her head back—which might have been a bad decision because now she was gazing at his mouth—at lips that were parted slightly. Lips that were perfect. Kissable.
Really, really, kissable.
Dragging her eyes up to Logan’s she exhaled a shaky breath, aware that his gaze had dropped down to the low neckline and her straining cleavage. Maybe there was something to this whole dress thing after all.
His eyes moved up to hers and something tight twisted inside her. He looked so fierce and sexy, ready to kick ass—all for her.
“What he did was dirty and the league won’t stand for that kind of crap.” He paused, “I won’t stand for it.”
“I,” she started to speak but a shot of feedback ripped through the air just as the lights went up.
“I’d like everyone’s attention for a moment, please.”
Billie turned and watched Logan’s mother beam down at them from the stage, her vivid red costume a stunning contrast to the gray, black and white zombies who made up Ike’s band.
“We’re going to take a few minutes and run our live auction so that we can get the business out of the way before the band starts playing.”
Several cheers greeted her announcement as she introduced the auctioneer, Pat-something or other. The man was small and appropriately dressed as a hobbit, though he’d doffed his wig earlier and his bald head glistened beneath the overhead lights.
That low buzz of panic that had dodged her all night settled in her gut and Billie rubbed clammy palms against her upper thighs.
The live auction was supposed to happen at midnight. Shit, she’d not planned on sticking around for it. Damn, Connor and his stupid ass ideas.
For twenty minutes, Billie stood beside Logan as various items were offered up for bids—trips to wine country, his and her massages, cottage getaways and a free legal consultation at Gerald’s firm. After each item, the knot in Billie’s stomach grew larger. Sweat broke out along her forehead and tendrils of hair stuck to the back of her neck.
It was hot. Christ, she was as hot as Logan looked.
She leaned toward him. “I think I’m going to go get some fresh air, I don’t feel so good.”
He didn’t hear her, because the auctioneer had just announced a “fabulous opportunity for one on one hockey coaching with New Waterford’s very own Billie-Jo Barker.”
Silence greeted his words. Not total silence mind you since there were a few snickers that rang out.
Billie stared up at the auctioneer wishing a big black hole would appear and suck her into an alternate realm. One where nobody stared. Or gossiped. Or shot daggers into her back.
“Billie-Jo has generously offered four private coaching sessions to some lucky winner. And considering she’s an Olympic medal champion and a former professional player, what a great opportunity!” The auctioneer beamed down at her and pointed—just in case no one knew that the skanky angel in front, was in fact, her. He winked at Billie. “I hear she’s causing a bit of excitement in the men’s league.”
Wrong thing to say.
Laughter followed his declaration, the kind that was mean spirited—hidden behind hands—or not. Sabrina Fairfax made no effort to hide the loud guffaw that fell from her lips.
Aware of the many eyes turned her way, she kept her gaze focused on the auctioneer. Just keep staring at him. It will be all right.
“Okay, let’s start with an opening bid of one hundred dollars.”
Once more silence greeted his words and Billie’s eyes smarted as she stared up at Pat like she was concentrating on a game winning goal.
“Anyone?” the auctioneer coaxed, the smile on his face fading as he gazed down into a crowd that had suddenly turned into an entirely different animal. He squared his shoulders and dug back in. “One hundred dollars, folks! Come on this is an amazing opportunity for some lucky winner!”
Billie’s cheeks burned as the auctioneer moved restlessly from side to side, cajoling the crowd…looking for that opening bid that was never going to come.
Keep your head up and focus on anything other than this stupid auction.
“What is wrong with you folks? This is a great opportunity for your child or your grandchild.”
“Or your husband,” someone quipped.
“Hell, maybe she’ll give a team discount,” Sabrina Fairfax threw in, her meaning more than clear as she stared at Billie from a few feet away, candy-red lips pulled back in a sneer.
Bobbi-Jo shoved her way forward, Gerald trailing behind, and yanked on Sabrina’s arm. “What the hell does that mean?”
Billie took a moment to appreciate the fear that rushed over Sabrina’s face. Her sister looked like an enraged
Scarlett O’Hara, one who could have kicked the entire North’s asses back in the day. And even though Bobbi and Billie weren’t exactly on speaking terms, they were still family and if anything, the Barkers always stood up for each other. It was a sibling kind of love that not a lot of people understood.
Heck, Billie hardly did.
“Back off, Bobbi.”
“Are you going to make me?” Bobbi pushed the woman in the chest, eliciting several gasps from the immediate circle of women—all of them stepped back. Bobbi-Jo Barker may clean up nice but her reputation as a hell-raiser had never fully disappeared.
Billie wanted to die. Leave it to the Barkers to stir things up.
The auctioneer’s face was red now—it was obvious he wasn’t used to working this hard to sell something. Not at a charity.
This had become one hell of a shit show.
“One thousand dollars.”
Everything went quiet. Sabrina’s mouth hung open—not an attractive look—and Bobbi took a step back. The catcalls and snide comments ceased as everyone looked toward Billie.
The auctioneer was surprised, but it was quickly replaced with relief. He held his hands up—he knew it wasn’t going to get better than this—and shouted.
“Sold! To the man in black.”
Chapter Fifteen
“What in the hell was that all about?”
Billie was pissed. No, she was beyond pissed. She was furious. And emotional. And furious. And humiliated.
And pissed.
It was bad enough that no one else had bothered to bid on her offering, but to have Logan throw down an over-the-top bid like that was just…ludicrous. It was…shit, what the hell had he been thinking?
He glared at her from a few feet away—every freaking six foot four inch of his gorgeous self.
“Okay, maybe I’m missing something here but I thought the idea of you volunteering your time and offering coaching sessions was to raise money for the support center.”
They were outside in the parking lot. Billie could hear the steady beat of the bass guitar and Ike’s vocals clear as day from inside. Her gut churned, just like it did before a big game, when her entire body was a big humming ball of energy. In a game it was good, but right here? Right now? She felt like she was going to puke.
She knew it was October—late October—but she was so hot. Hot and itchy— stupid damn feathers—and pissed.
She yanked on a hunk of hair that stuck to the back of her neck and the pins that Tracy had so painstakingly set went flying. Her perfectly arranged hair was no more.
“I know that’s the point but now everyone thinks we’re sleeping together!”
“Everyone thinks we’re sleeping together,” he repeated.
Was he an idiot?
Billie threw her hands in the air. “Of course they think we’re sleeping together. Hell, half the town thinks I’m sleeping with their husbands, or at the very least I’m banging every single Angry Pirate in sight.” She snorted. “Because, you know, I’m not playing hockey for the love of it or anything.”
Her chest heaved and the hot prickle of tears stung the corner of her eyes. Why had she let Connor talk her into donating to the auction?
She’d known it wouldn’t end well and she’d end up looking like an idiot. Dammit. When would she ever learn to listen to that voice? The one inside that didn’t whisper, it screamed. The one that was usually right. The one that hours earlier had told her not to touch the auction thing with a ten foot pole.
Logan took a step closer, but Billie was too wound up to notice. “Don’t you think you’re over reacting?”
“No,” she shook her head. “No, I don’t.” She closed her eyes. She had to get hold of herself. “First there was the whole car thing—all that free stuff—and now this. Hell, if I didn’t know better I’d think we were sleeping together.”
I did not just say that.
“Billie—”
“When I was in the costume shop today I overheard Mrs. Beals telling Mrs. Talbot that not only did I steal you from Sabrina Fairfax but apparently, I’m sleeping with Shane Gallagher too.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted your sister to think?”
She ignored his comment. Mostly because it was true.
“I’d love to know what they thought when I came to this stupid fundraiser with your brother. I’m sure by now they think I’m sleeping with all the Forest brothers.”
“Billie—”
“I bet they think Travis came home from California so that we could have a freaking Forest sandwich. A big ass orgy-fest.”
“Billie,” he tried again.
But she couldn’t stop. The words just tumbled out. “And apparently, all the Angry Pirates shower together so I’m like, showering with the entire freaking team.” Oh God. She pressed her hands over her eyes and counted to ten.
Only to find that Logan was so close to her, she could stick out her tongue and lick him.
“Do you even know what an Angry Pirate is?” she asked hoarsely. Shit, why had she brought that up?
Logan shrugged. “No, I don’t, but since Mike Gee chose the name I’m guessing it’s not real family friendly.”
“It’s not,” she managed to say through gritted teeth. “And the only reason I know what an Angry Pirate is, is because Mrs. Beals went into great detail when explaining it to Mrs. Talbot,” she paused for a breath, “who I think is truly horrified.”
Logan seemed concerned, but was that a twinkle in his eye? Or something darker?
His eyes were hooded, the flickering shadows making him appear dangerous…sexy…and dangerous.
Billie eyed him warily. Something had just changed. A subtle shift in the air. She felt it as she dragged a great gulp of it into her lungs. Which was probably the wrong thing to do because it was full of the yummy, spicy, scent that was so unique to Logan Forest.
It had been tattooed to her brain for years. Ever since that night. That night that he could never, ever, know about.
Another night I should have listened to my gut.
She licked her lips, suddenly so thirsty that a jug of beer wouldn’t make a dent. “It’s pretty bad that someone like Mrs. Beals knows a lot more about that stuff than I do.” Okay, she could stop talking about the Angry Pirates now. Sheesh.
Logan smiled. She wished he wouldn’t do that. It kind of messed with her head.
“She probably spends all her time reading the urban dictionary.”
“The what?” she asked.
She made a sound in the back of her throat, an uncontrollable little thing that wasn’t panic really. It was…
“Don’t do that,” he said softly.
“What?”
“Make that noise.”
“What noise?” She did it again and blushed, wishing he would give her some space.
“That’s the one.” His voice had just gone to another level of sexy and it hit her right between the legs.
He stepped even closer and she held her breath as his hand slowly crept up and cupped the side of her jaw. The ache she felt, deep down there, was so intense—the friction unlike any she had ever experienced—that she might have moaned.
His smile deepened as he dipped his head.
Okay, she definitely moaned.
She couldn’t help herself and leaned into his touch. His eyes, his face—that damn smile—could charm the pants off anyone.
Or if she wasn’t careful an angel dress…off of her.
“I don’t think we should do this,” she whispered.
His breath tickled along her collarbone as he bent lower. So low that there was only a whisper between her mouth and his.
“Do what?”
“This,” she retorted, a little cheekily because he was starting to piss her off. What was it about Logan Forest that made grown women melt into nothing but a bunch of quivering lady parts?
“This?” he asked—his mouth now against the side of her neck. Right down there, right near the spot that would drive
her crazy if he—sweet mother of Jesus.
He did.
She was half gone as he nuzzled her in that spot. Zing! The spot that was like a conduit of pleasure. A conduit of pleasure that led directly to her already aching lady parts.
“People are going to talk about us.”
“Let ‘em talk,” he murmured against her lips.
And then Logan Forest kissed her until her head spun. Until all those quivering girlie parts were practically sitting up and begging for his touch.
She groaned as he tasted and teased while holding her against him so that she couldn’t move even if she wanted to. But she didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to be anywhere other than where she was. In Logan’s arms.
Everything flew out of her head except the hard, warm man pressed against her. When he sucked on her bottom lip, she clasped her hands behind his neck and held him there. She didn’t want this to end. Ever.
Logan Forest knew how to kiss. Hell—that was an understatement. He was the God of kissing.
Her head swam—thankfully one of his hands was buried in her hair holding her steady- because she surely would have melted at his feet. And when his other hand slowly worked its way down her waist and settled on her hip, she couldn’t help herself. She pressed into him, breathing hard as she yanked her head back to drag much needed air into her lungs.
His mouth immediately worked its way lower, his tongue burning a wet path across her skin until he suckled her nipples right through the material of her dress. When he groaned and pushed her back against the wall. She did nothing. When he held her in place with his hips and used one hand to lean over her so his other could slowly, carefully and with much finesse, free her breasts from her dress…she did nothing.
How could she? Watching the raw desire on his face, the way his eyes widened and then narrowed, the way his mouth hung open slightly, his tongue peeking through…his breathing heavy as her exposed nipples pebbled and hardened from the cool, night air.
All of it kept her riveted to him.
All of it made her want him more than ever. No man—not one single man that she’d been with—had ever gotten under her skin the way Logan Forest did.
