“I hear Betty’s wedding is going to be at the farm?”
“Oh.” His smile dimmed a bit. “Yeah. There’s that.”
“I might have to make you pay for that one.”
The look in Shane’s eyes was enough to melt her panties. That’s if she were wearing them. Which she wasn’t. Nothing got her man hotter under the collar than knowing she was bare.
“I’m counting on it,” he said gruffly.
“Okay you two. Get a move on. An old man doesn’t need to hear that sort of stuff.”
The ride out to their place, White Haven, took a bit longer than normal but with some roads clear and others still treacherous, they took their time. The estate had been left to Shane by his grandfather and not only was it a working horse farm, Shane’s studio was located on the property.
Chrissy Hinde’s wonderful and subtle version of Merry Little Christmas, filled the truck as they pulled into the lane that led to their home. Massive snow drifts lined the entire driveway, and the sun was so bright, it hurt the eyes to look.
And there was a lot to look at. The estate was gorgeous. As always, Bobbi felt such pride in everything Shane had accomplished. His art hung in galleries across the country, notably in New York and LA, and when he wasn’t busy painting he was making custom furniture out in his woodshop.
Shane Gallagher had come into his own. He’d grown into the man she’d always known he would become. And damn, if he didn’t belong to her.
There was a truck parked in front of the house and as Bobbi slid from Shane’s vehicle, she spotted Matt Hawkins gathering some gear together. Matt nodded, pointing to the barn set back aways. “Setting up a sound system for the band.”
Shane slid his arms around Bobbi, cuddling her from behind. “I’ll be out in a bit to help.”
Matt nodded. “Leave it to Betty to throw a wrench into everything at the last minute.”
Bobbi chuckled. Matt was Betty’s best friend, so nothing her sister did would ever surprise him. There’d been a time when Bobbi hadn’t been a fan of Matt. Thought he was a bad influence on her sister. And even though she’d gotten over that—people change, they grow up—she didn’t quite get their relationship.
And if she was honest, she thought that maybe Matt Hawkins was the saddest person she’d ever met. There was something tragic in his eyes—a haunted look that he sometimes forgot to conceal. She supposed it was that very thing that glued him and Betty together.
Shane tugged on her hand, while Pia nipped at their feet, excited to be home.
“Thanks Matt,” she said with a wave.
“No problem.” He flashed a grin. “Did you find those roses yet?”
God. Did everyone know?
Shane was pulling her toward the house so she didn’t get a chance to answer, and by the time they reached the warmth of the foyer, she forgot all about the roses. Hell, she forgot about everything.
“What the…” Her voice trailed off as she gazed across the hall at the portrait resting against the wall.
Her throat tightened.
So did her chest.
So did her heart.
For several moments, there was only silence. Even Pia stopped barking as Bobbi gazed at an image of herself lying in bed, sheets a rumpled mess around her, hair all over the place, eyes half closed as she gazed outward. There was nothing scandalous about the scene. Nothing overtly sexual. The colors were subtle. The focus intentional.
The painting was about the expression on her face, the look in her eyes…
“Is that how you see me?” she whispered.
“Yes,” Shane said roughly, pulling her against him. “That’s exactly how I see you.”
“It’s…oh Shane, it’s beautiful,” she breathed. “It’s…I don’t even know what to say. Thank you.”
“Merry Christmas, babe,” Shane said softly, nipping at her nose, his hands sliding into her hair. “You don’t have to say anything.”
A heartbeat passed. Maybe two. And then a slow, wicked grin crossed Bobbi’s face. She moistened her lips and stood on her tiptoes so that she could reach Shane’s ear. There was one thing she wanted to say.
She pressed a kiss into his warm flesh and whispered. “Commando.”
“Commando,” he repeated, eyes darkening as he yanked his head back.
“Yeah,” she replied. “Commando.”
He answered with a growl and it was no surprise that Matt Hawkins was on his own for most of the morning. Nope. No surprise at all.
Chapter Six
Still two days before Christmas, on the other side of town…
Billie watched the group of hockey players as they did their dry land training, a critical eye moving over each and every one of them. The young men had been at it for over an hour and it was nearly time to call it quits. The last one, Thomas, was fooling around, and it struck her that he’d not finished his last lap around the facility. She yelled at him across the complex, earning a surprised look and an apology.
“Sorry, Billie.”
“Apologies don’t win games, Thomas. Talent alone doesn’t win games. Commitment. Focus. Heart. That’s what wins games.”
“Got it.”
“Good,” she replied. “Now give me twenty-five pushups and you can call it a day.” She motioned to the rest of the team. “You guys can hit the showers and good luck with your game Boxing Day. I can’t make it as I’ve got this family thing.”
“Hey, are we gonna get to meet Beau Simon or what?”
She folded her arms and shook her head. “Never mind about Beau Simon, Thomas. I said twenty-five pushups.”
Thomas muttered something under his breath, and it was probably a good thing that Billie couldn’t hear it. She nodded to the other guys. “Have a good Christmas and I’ll see you in the New Year.”
It was almost noon and she wanted nothing more than to lay her head down and catch some much needed sleep. Her son, Abel, was cutting a tooth—again—and he’d been a little bear these last few weeks. Subsequently, between helping out with her Gramps’ place, running her hockey training facility and dealing with a fussy baby, she’d hardly gotten any sleep.
As if that wasn’t enough to deal with, Logan’s shop was busy as ever. Sure, he pitched in with the regular stuff around the house as much as she did. Hell, probably more—Billie couldn’t remember the last time she’d cooked dinner. (Actually she was an awful cook so that might have more to do with it than anything else) But still, the last few days had been brutal and she was running on fumes.
She walked into her office and grabbed the last cup of coffee, twirling the ends of her hair as she took a moment to herself. A photo on her desk caught her attention and she set her cup down. Cradling the frame in her hand, she ran a finger over the image of the two guys who owned her heart.
Logan and Abel.
It was a candid shot taken when Abel had just started walking the previous summer. His small chubby hand was nestled in Logan’s large one, and the look on Logan’s face as he gazed down at his son brought tears to her eyes.
Oh the feelings, they were intense, and she set the photo back down, closing her eyes and picturing her father, Trent Barker. He’d been so frail when she’d visited him the week before—frail, and agitated, and more than a little confused.
He’d had no idea who she was and Billie wondered when last Trent Barker had looked at any one of his daughters and felt that invisible bond? That fierce intense connection that only a parent could feel for their child?
She exhaled and cleared her throat. “Enough of that shit, Billie,” she muttered. No use dwelling on something that wasn’t going to change.
She would see her father on Christmas Day, along with her sisters and Gramps. The chances of Trent remembering any of his daughters were slim, but they could at least be there with him. He was well looked after and that was all anyone could ask for.
In the meantime she had to get through her day. The boys’ dry land training was finished, but she still had two
private lessons and then a power skating class to teach. After that? A soft smile played around her mouth as she glanced at the frame on her desk once more. Well, after that she had plans of her own and no baby with a sore mouth or a freaking winter storm was going to ruin it.
She picked up her phone. Her sister Bobbi’s cell rang five or six times and then went to voicemail. Billie frowned and tried it again. And again. And again.
She was just about to give up when Bobbi answered.
“What the hell, Billie?”
That her sister was obviously annoyed didn’t matter all that much to Billie. Not at the moment anyway.
“Why aren’t you answering your phone?” she asked, waving to Debra Bergens and her sons as they walked into the complex. She pointed to her watch and held up five fingers.
“Oh I don’t know, maybe because I’m busy?” Her sister was out of breath, but Billie ignored it. She was still focused on Debra. The woman was standing there looking confused. What part of watch and five fingers did she not get?
“Hold on, Bobbi.”
“Are you kidd—“
Billie held the phone away and slid open the partition glass that separated her office from the main entrance. “I’ll be out in five minutes, Debra.”
The woman nodded. “Oh, good. I’ll get the boys ready.”
“So what are you doing?” Billie asked, sliding the glass closed. “Are you with Gramps?”
“No, I’m not with Gramps.”
“Oh,” Billie replied. “So where are you?”
Bobbi cursed so long and loud that Billie winced, and it was then that she truly understood how pissed off her sister was.
“I’m at home,” Bobbi exploded into her ear.
“Well, shit. You don’t have to take my head off.”
“Oh but I do. You more than anyone know how rough it’s been for Shane and me these past few weeks.”
“But what’s that got to do—“
“We’re at home, Billie. Together. As in he’s waiting for me right now, naked and horny as hell because I have no underwear on.”
“Oh,” Billie said softly.
“And let me tell you it’s pretty damn hard to get in the mood when Livin La Vida Loca keeps playing like it’s on rewind or something.”
“Your ringtone is Ricky Martin?”
“What?” Bobbi snapped.
“Your ringtone. Ricky Martin.”
“Oh my God, Billie. What the hell do you want?”
Billie made a face and was glad that her sister couldn’t see it, though when she glanced up, she caught Debra Bergens looking at her strangely. She turned around and sighed.
“I just wanted to make sure that you don’t forget about Abel.”
“Abel.”
I knew it.
“Yes, Abel. He’s about twenty-seven pounds, eighteen months old, currently getting into everything and he’s hidden every single one of his soothers. So I hope you have an extra one at your place, because I’ve had no time to get to the store.”
“I know who Abel is,” her sister retorted.
“You’re supposed to be watching him tonight, remember? I have plans with Logan.”
“Right. Okay. On it.”
“I mean it Bobbi. Don’t forget. I need this. Logan needs this.”
“No problem. I’ll have Shane drop by Logan’s shop and scoop him up, but it will have to be later. Right now I’m getting some sugar and you need to not call me again for at least an hour.”
“Okay.”
“No, scratch that. Minimum ninety minutes.”
Billie stuck her tongue out. Shit. When was the last time that she and Logan had had ninety minutes all to themselves?
“Hey, don’t forget about the…” Lingerie.
But Bobbi had already hung up and with a sigh, Billie headed out for her private lessons. By three-thirty, she’d finished her power skating class and was waiting on the last few parents to pack up and leave. Her desk was filled with new coffee mugs and chocolates, as well as an impressive number of homemade Christmas Cards. Her students were amazing and she smiled as little Connor McBride waltzed by with his grandmother, Joanne.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Forest,” Connor shouted.
“I hope you’ve been a good boy,” she replied with a smile.
“I tried really hard to be good but it didn’t always work out.” He shrugged. “My mommy says that’s all we can ask for.”
“She’s right about that,” Billie chuckled. “See you in the New Year, Connor.”
“So have you been a good girl all year?”
Billie smiled as her sister Bobbi walked into her office.
“What do you think?” Billie retorted, eyeing her up with interest. Her sister looked great. “Wow. You look like—“
“Like I’ve just had the best sex of my life ever?”
Billie nodded and smiled. “Something like that.”
Bobbi held up a small little bag. “I hope you’ve been bad because this is only for girls on the naughty list, just saying.” Her sister pulled out a sexy red bra and the teeniest matching panties Billie had ever seen.
“You remembered.” Billie chuckled. “I plan on being a little bit sinful and a whole lot naughty.”
“Trust me. These won’t last long enough to see you through the naughty part of your evening. Once Logan sees your new undies, I bet he rips them off within a minute. With his teeth.”
“Hmmm. At least he has undies to rip off.”
Bobbi snorted. “You got me there.”
“Thanks for grabbing this for me. I’ve been so swamped.”
“No problem. Shane is on his way to get Abel, and you can leave now.”
“Oh, but…” Billie glanced out at the stragglers. “I’ve still got a few clients inside.”
“I’ll lock the place up. You need to go home and shower and if I know you, you’ll need to shave the places that need to be shaved. Like your legs and your—“
Billie hugged her sister. “Got it.” She kissed her on the cheek and squeezed her once more. “Thanks for this. We really need a night to ourselves. With the wedding and Abel and the holidays, it’s just been crazy.”
“I know,” Bobbi said softly. “Go get some sugar, okay?”
Billie scooped up the lingerie bag. “I plan on it. Lots of sugar.”
“Sugar is good,” Bobbi shouted as Billie practically ran from the place.
“Yeah,” Billie said with a sly grin, heading out into the cold. “Sugar is real good.”
Chapter Seven
Logan Forest parked his truck near the garage and glanced up at his house. It was already dark, sunset was early these days, but hey, that didn’t mean much considering his place had enough Christmas lights to power a small city.
They twinkled from the roof and the railing that ran around the front porch. Red. Blue. Green and yellow. The windows sported nice white ones and the junipers that lined the far drive were also lit up. As was the carriage house, his garage. Hell, even the mailbox was lit up.
There was a massive inflatable reindeer on the front lawn, its nose glowing neon red, as well as a snow globe and, he glanced back up to the roof, yep, there was Santa staring back at him. As if that wasn’t bad enough, you could see them a mile away on account of the 100watt spotlights pointed in their direction.
He shook his head, and even though he’d taken a lot of ribbing from his brothers and Shane, there was a grin on his face. Who the hell would have thought that his house would turn into something that’d make the Griswald’s proud? Just when he thought he had his wife figured out, she up and did something like this. Sure, she said it was for Abel, but he knew better. Billie was a kid at heart, and the holidays meant a lot to her.
He got it. He came from a large family and Thanksgiving and Christmas were full of some of the best memories that he had. Logan glanced back at the house, his blood heated. He was looking forward to making a lot more.
He slipped out of his truck and slammed the do
or shut behind him, wondering what his wife had in store for him tonight. Shane had swung by the shop a few hours ago— Logan had been in the middle of explaining to Abel what made the Harley he was rebuilding so damn special. But his son didn’t care about anything except the shiny metal that he wasn’t supposed to touch. And he sure as hell wasn’t supposed to jam it into his mouth.
When Shane told him that he’d been instructed to take Abel home with him, Logan had been surprised, but it was the good kind of surprised. It had been ages since he’d had his woman all to himself, and he was looking forward to spending some quality time with Billie. And that would be, naked quality time.
He hopped up the front steps, jacket half off and tugging on his Henley when the door opened and he stopped cold.
“You’re late,” Billie said, her voice tense, which kind of killed his mood.
“I…uh….” He swallowed, eyes moving over her. “You’re dressed.”
Billie tugged him inside. “Of course I’m dressed, and you need to get your butt into the shower.”
Wait. What?
“Are you coming with me?”
“Coming with you where?”
“Into the shower?” he said hopefully, reaching for her, but Billie—always light on her toes even when said toes were encased in four inch heels—sidestepped him.
“Logan, your clothes are on the bed, and I need you back down here in ten minutes.”
Billie’s long hair waved around her shoulders, and damn, the red dress she wore showed off assets that he was dying to see. Dying to touch. To kiss and to taste. But he recognized the look in her eyes. The woman meant business.
“Give me a kiss and I’ll have the fastest shower on record,” he challenged.
Logan was rewarded with a ghost of a smile. “If I let you kiss me, we’ll never make it out of the house.”
“And that’s a bad thing because…”
“Because I went to a lot of trouble to plan a special night we’ll remember for a long time and if you don’t get your butt into the shower, I’ll be pissed. Trust me, Logan. You don’t want pissed off Billie, you want—“
A Barker Family Christmas Page 4
