Offside (28 page)

“First game is tomorrow night,” Billie
answered.

“Which tournament is this?” Trent Barker
enquired.

“The Cornucopia, Dad. Remember I told
you?”

Trent’s brows furrowed and he set his spoon
down. “That’s a full contact tournament in the city.”

For a moment there was silence and Logan
glanced at Billie. She stared at her wine glass.

“Are you crazy?” Bobbi threw her napkin on
the table, her eyes wide. “You can’t play contact hockey.”

“Why not?” Trent asked, a confused look
creeping into his eyes. He rubbed his hands along his forehead.
“Has something happened?”

Herschel, sensing that things were about to
go south, rose from the table and tugged on his son’s arm. “Why
don’t we go into the kitchen and get that nice apple cobbler out of
the oven?”

Trent nodded. “All right.” He rose and paused
before following his father out of the dining room. “Is everything
okay with you, Billie?”

“I’m fine.”

Logan pushed his bowl away, appetite
lost.

Trent glanced around the room. “Well maybe
you shouldn’t be playing this tournament after all. You don’t want
to injure yourself before heading back to college, now would
you?”

“I’ll be okay, dad.”

Logan watched her father leave the room, well
aware that the atmosphere had just changed dramatically.

“You can’t play in the tournament, Billie.”
Bobbi stood and folded her arms across her chest. “You can’t.”

Logan decided it was time to chime in. Right
or wrong, she had to know this was crazy. He turned toward her.
“She’s right.”

Her face was blank—for just a moment—and then
heat flushed her cheeks as she kicked back her chair and took a
step away from all of them.

“I’m fine,” she said stiffly. “And I’ll play
if I want to.”

Logan loved her fire. He loved her attitude
and drive and…

He swallowed as his heart took off. Holy.
Hell.

He loved her.

He loved Billie-Jo Barker.

For a moment he wondered if everyone was
staring at him because they could see his heart and soul on his
sleeve, but then he realized it was his turn to say something, so
he did.

“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you play
in a hockey tournament where there will be a bull’s-eye tattooed to
your ass.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s one hell of an
ass, but trust me, every hotdog out there will be gunning for
it.”

She threw her napkin on the table and gulped
another half glass of wine. Jesus, this family drank wine like it
was soda pop.

“I’m playing, Logan.”

“No,” he took a step closer to her. “You’re
not.”

“Are you kidding me? Just because we’re
sleeping together doesn’t mean you get to tell me what I can or
can’t do.”

“We should leave, Bobbi,” Gerald muttered,
getting up from the table.

“Leave?” Bobbi retorted. “It’s just getting
good.”

“What about your concussion?” Logan threw at
Billie.

“What about it?” she retorted.

He glanced at her sister. Did they all know
that Billie was certifiable?

“You were sent home, Billie. Don’t tell me it
wasn’t serious.” He was angry now. What the hell was she trying to
prove?

“Okay, it sucked. Is that what you want to
hear?”

“Which one?” he asked dangerously. “The
concussion you suffered last year or the one you had a few months
ago?”

“What?” Bobbi moved toward them. “You had
more than one concussion?”

Billie ignored her sister and instead,
focused her pissed off eyes at him. “How did you know that?”

“I Googled it.”

“Jesus, is nothing sacred anymore? You’re
Googling my injuries?” She exhaled. “Look, what happened in Europe
sucked, but I’m recovered. My head is good and I can damn well play
hockey in a stupid tournament in the city.”

“It’s not just a stupid tournament and you
know it. There are a lot of ex-junior players entered and they
don’t play to lose. Those guys are as fast, if not faster, than
you. They’re big guys with a lot of skill.”

“Yes!” Her shiny eyes were wide and she
looked at him as if he was the biggest dummy on the planet. “That’s
why I want to play. Don’t you get that?” She glanced around the
room. “Doesn’t anyone understand that?”

“I get that one bad hit and your brain could
be toast,” Logan said through gritted teeth.

“I know how to play smart and I know how to
take a hit. What happened in Europe, both times, were bad hits from
behind. I had no way to protect myself.”

“You don’t think that could happen here?”

“I’ll stay out of the corners and I’ll keep
my head up.”

He rolled his shoulders. This was like
talking to a brick wall. “You can’t know what’s happening behind
you all the time. You don’t have eyes on the back of your
head.”

“No, I don’t,” she said her mouth tight.
“That’s what you’re there for.”

He took a step forward, all of the warm and
fuzzies he’d felt for this woman gone, replaced by an anger that
took hold of him hard. The thought of her hurt and lying on the ice
made him crazy. How could she not see that?

“I won’t do it.”

Her eyes widened and he knew that finally
he’d gotten her attention.

“You’re not going to play?”

“No.”

He stared into her eyes and felt his whole
world shift. He heard murmurs from the back of the house—Herschel
and Trent—and glanced away, a little shaken at the depth of his
emotion. His need to protect. His need for Billie.

Bobbi stood behind Gerald—and Billie was
right, the guy was a turd. He had no idea what her sister was doing
with him.

“Well, well, well, this is unexpected.”

The voice came from nowhere and they all
turned to look at the tall, slender woman who stood just inside the
doorway.

She wore a form fitting leather jacket, one
that emphasized either one heck of a padded bra, or implants. Her
jeans were snug, her boots-a pair of those furry things that looked
more like slippers. Her hair was cut to just below her shoulders,
vivid red chunks intermingled with the inky black strands. Her
dramatic makeup screamed LA but her attitude was all New York.

“What are you doing here?”

The question came from Bobbi and her tone
left no doubt that things were going to get a whole lot more
interesting than they already were.

“It’s Thanksgiving in a few days. Where else
would I be?”

Betty-Jo Barker strode into the room as if
she’d never been left.

“Warm apple cobbler!”

Herschel’s face did a comical sort of crumble
when he saw the third Barker triplet. “Betty,” he cried.

She was across the room and in his arms in
seconds.

Billie swallowed painfully, her throat as
tight as her chest—which was making it hard for her to breathe.

Could this night get any worse?

She glanced at Bobbi, saw the shock on her
sister’s face and knew this trip home was a surprise. Bobbi would
have told her if Betty was coming home, she would have given her
some warning.

Billie hadn’t seen Betty in nearly two years.
She’d shown up at one of Billie’s games in Sweden, on the arm of
some jacked up player. Betty had paid more attention to her
teammates than to her own sister, monopolizing everyone’s attention
in her over the top way, and after a very uncomfortable dinner,
they’d parted ways. The whole thing had been bizarre and Billie
knew her sister was using, but she also knew that Betty wouldn’t
listen to anyone but herself.

Billie was very aware that Logan stood a few
feet from her, hands clenched at his side and not for the first
time, she wished that a hole would open up beneath her and swallow
her whole.

Betty patted Herschel on the cheek, dug her
finger into the warm apple cobbler and as she sucked the hot
dessert from her fingers, her gaze wandered the room, until she
stopped on Logan.

“So,” she said, licking her lips. “Where’s
Dad?”

“Oh, he was feeling a tad tired,” Herschel
said. “He went up to his room to rest.”

Worry furrowed her brow—just for an
instant—but Billie saw it. “He’s doing all right?”

“As well as can be expected,” Bobbi inserted,
her eyes hard as she gazed at her sister.

Herschel set out a stack of plates, his eyes
misty. “Just damn glad that my twins are together for the
holidays.”

Logan glanced her way and Billie mumbled,
“Don’t ask.”

Betty’s finger snapped out of her mouth with
a wet pop and Billie’s stomach rolled at the calculating look in
her eyes as she settled on Logan.

Panic hit her and sweat broke out on her
forehead. There was no way Betty could know what Billie had done
all those years ago, and Logan wouldn’t bring something like that
up, he had too much class.

Betty’s eyes never left Logan, though she
tipped her head to the side, a long, crimson chunk of hair falling
past her collar. “So, Gerald Dooley?”

“Here we go,” Bobbi muttered.

Gerald cleared his throat and nodded. “Hi,
Betty.”

Betty’s lips were shiny from the tongue that
had darted out to swipe the corners and Billie, still frozen and
afraid, was mesmerized by the perfectly formed mouth. Of course,
Billie’s was exactly the same—but it wasn’t. Betty had always had
an innate sexuality that permeated every pore in her body.

“You manage to get into Bobbi’s pants
yet?”

Gerald’s face flushed a deep red. Guess that
answered that question.

Herschel frowned. “That kind of talk isn’t
appropriate for the dinner table. Cut it out.”

Betty giggled, but it sounded harsh and
forced. “Sorry, Gramps.” She slid into a chair, which was funny
since every other adult in the room was standing.

Herschel wiped his hands on his coveralls,
and pushed his hat back. “Shoot, I forgot the spoons. Be right
back.”

Betty sank her fingers into the dessert
again. “Who needs cutlery?’

“Nice manners, Bets.” Bobbi took a step
forward and shoved the plate out of Betty’s reach. “You can at
least try and act normal if you’re going to stay here.”

Betty’s face tightened and she glanced up at
her sister, an eyebrow arched imperiously. “If?” She snorted. “This
is my home as much as it is yours and the last time I looked the
locks haven’t been changed.”

Bobbi leaned over. “You might want to check
back in a few days then.”

“Whatever,” Betty murmured, obviously happy
to have gotten under her sisters skin so quickly. “Take a
pill.”

“I would,” Bobbi said harshly, “but they all
seem to disappear when you’re around. Even the non-prescription
ones.”

Billie pressed two fingers to her brow,
upset, scared, and humiliated that Logan was here to witness the
Barker triplets at their finest.

She turned to Logan, unable to meet his eyes,
still bruised from before. “Maybe you should go.”

“Go?” Betty shoved her chair back and walked
around the table, her long legs eating up the distance in a few
seconds. She winked at Billie as she moved past her and stood in
front of Logan. “Don’t go. We can catch up. It’s been what?” She
leaned back and glanced at Billie.

Billie wanted to yank on her head, grab a
huge chunk of hair and twist for maximum pain. She wanted to throw
her sister to the ground, to punch and scratch and—

“Seven years?” Betty continued silkily.

Logan glanced from Betty to Billie and she
knew he was thinking about that night. His expression was
unreadable and he looked like he’d just about reached his
limit.

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” he answered in a
clipped tone. His eyes met Billie’s. “Can I talk to you for a
minute?”

Betty whirled around, her eyes feverish and
that sick feeling in the bottom of her gut hit Billie hard.
Something was coming her way—something bad—and she couldn’t stop
it.

“Oh, I get it.” Betty-Jo grinned as she
looked around the room. “This makes sense now. Bobbi and’—she made
a face—‘Gerald. You and Logan.”

She smiled at Billie. A cold, self-centered
smile that left Billie sick to her stomach. She knew that smile and
what it meant. The shit was going to hit.

“Wow. You finally snagged him. Congrats.”

Silence followed her words and Billie glanced
at Bobbi, but her sister looked too shocked to say anything.

Herschel stood in the doorway, unsure whether
he should proceed or retreat and Gerald just stood like an ass, an
empty plate in his hand while he waited for the dessert to be
served.

“What do you mean by that?” Logan asked, his
voice low, his eyes narrowed.

Betty shook her head. “Holy cow, you men are
dumb.”

“Betty,” Bobbi warned, but as usual the third
and most reckless Barker triplet didn’t heed anyone’s warning
unless she wanted to. And right now? She sure as hell wasn’t
listening to anyone’s advice save whatever demons crawled inside
her.

“Billie-Jo has been in love with you ever
since she was a teenager.”

Billie’s eyes stung. She gazed at her sister
and breathed, “Don’t.”

But the sister that she used to admire, the
one who had balls bigger than any guy she knew…bigger than Bobbi
even, smiled cruelly and shook her head. She didn’t care. At
all.

“Oh, yes,” Betty took a step back. “She used
to go on and on about you. Logan

this, and Logan that, like you were some sort
of God or something. But you weren’t, were you Logan.” She moved
back a few inches and leaned her hip against the table. “You were
no different than any of the other guys who sniffed around my
boots. You didn’t care about Billie,” she laughed. “Hell, I bet you
didn’t even know she existed. She wasn’t the Barker who was easy
and loose. I was.”

Logan stared at her, his face dark, his
expression pissed off. “I’m assuming there’s a point to all this?
Because I sure as hell don’t want to re-hash our past.”