Offside (7 page)

Gallagher might have been on the wild side
but still…Gerald was the polar opposite.

Shane cleared his throat and started toward
his bike. “There’s not much to tell. We hung out for a while a
couple years back and then we didn’t.”

Billie slid up behind him. “Really, that’s
it?”

He handed her a helmet. “That’s it.”

His tone was clipped and Billie knew there
was a lot more to the story but she didn’t push it. It was really
none of her business.

Shane revved the engine, it sounded mean and
dirty, and they took off. The air was crisp and fresh and for a few
moments Billie held on and let her mind forget all her problems.
She didn’t think about hockey, or the fact that her immediate job
future looked pretty damn sad. She didn’t think about her father,
or her sisters, or even Dearling’s hairy ass. For one blessed
moment she cleared her mind and enjoyed the freedom of a bike and
the open road. The wind on her face and the star-heavy night sky
and the…

Wait a second. Billie frowned and tugged on
Shane’s arm—they’d missed her street—but he ignored her and a few
moments later they pulled into the parking lot of The Grill. They
coasted to a prime spot right in front and Shane cut the motor.

“I thought you were giving me a lift?”

“I am,” he waited for her to slide off. “I
did.”

She glared at him.

“I never said I was taking you home right
away.” He grinned and it took a bit for Billie to resist the pull
of his smile. The man was way too good looking for his own good and
the leather—the bad boy reputation—only added to his appeal.

“Look, none of these guys are expecting you
to come back here, not really.” A slow grin spread across his face.
“Especially not Dearling or Longwood.”

“I don’t know…” she thought of what Bobbi had
said earlier, about Duke and Jackie’s marital woes. She thought
about the rest of the town and how everybody seemed to have an
opinion on a woman playing hockey in the men’s league. Heck, even
Jason McDaniel from the hardware store had gone on and on about it
while she’d stood in line waiting to pay for some paint—he wasn’t a
fan—like she cared two shits what he thought. The guy had never put
a pair of skates on in his life. What did he know?

An image of Dearlings hairy ass crossed her
mind. Asshole. Why should she let them have fun and whoop it up
when clearly, she’d won the game? Not that she was keeping score or
anything.

Logan was inside, she’d noticed his truck on
the way in and just thinking of him brought a wave of heat to her
cheeks, so she looked away, exhaling shakily. No need for Gallagher
to notice.

Damn, but she needed to get over her
schoolgirl crush because he was involved with Sabrina Fairfax and
even if he wasn’t, he’d called her ‘kid’ twice since she’d been
back. It was obvious he didn’t think of her as a grownup and she
shouldn’t care—it had been more than a few years since she’d seen
him, but the thing of it was…she did care. She cared a whole
lot.

“Are you really gonna let these small town
dickhead’s win?” Shane prodded.

“What’s it to you?” she asked suddenly. She
hardly knew Shane. Maybe he was angling to get into her pants?
Bobbi was unavailable so she was the next best thing?

For a moment she considered the possibility.
Considered her options. It had been so long since she’d been
touched that the idea was almost appealing. Except the glow of
throwing sex with Shane in Bobbi’s face would fade fast and as much
as she disliked her sister at the moment, there was a line no
sister should ever cross.

Ever.

Shane Gallagher was off limits.

“It’s nothing to me,” he moved toward the
entrance. “I just think if you cared enough to play, you should put
in an appearance is all. You’re part of the team whether they want
you to be or not.”

Billie chewed on her bottom lip. What could
having a beer hurt?

“All right, just one.”

Besides, when Bobbi found out she’d gone out
for beers with Shane she’d hit the roof and that alone would be
worth it.

Logan finished his beer, pushed the empty
bottle toward Duke, and reached into the front pocket of his jeans
for his keys.

The owner of The Grill looked grumpy as hell
and his attitude was even worse. Rumor had it, he and his wife were
on the outs and that talk was from a few days ago. Duke grabbed the
empty bottle and glared at him. “You want another?”

It was obvious he and the wife were still out
of sorts.

“I don’t have all night, Forest.”

Logan shook his head and rolled his
shoulders. It had been a long day—truthfully, a long week—and he
was ready to call it a night. His teammates were downing jugs of
beer but he wasn’t in the mood to celebrate. Not really. His
break-up with Sabrina hadn’t gone well and it had bugged him all
week.

He ran fingers along his jaw, keys jangling
in his free hand. That was an understatement. The woman had gone
into full blown cry mode and he felt like an absolute shit. She’d
used the L word and even now it made him wince. But what the hell?
He’d never promised her love. He’d never promised her anything
except a good time. No fault. No foul.

But still…

He shook his head. “Nah, I should head
home.”

And he would have too, except Shane Gallagher
strode into The Grill with none other than Billie-Jo Barker on his
heels. They had his instant attention, but then again, they had the
attention of the entire bar. Gallagher the ex-con and Billie the
upstart woman who was on the tongue of every gossip king and queen
in New Waterford.

Shane put his hand to her back and prodded
her forward toward the bar. Toward Logan and Duke. Toward the
entire team of Angry Pirates. Toward Dearling who looked like an
ass-hat with chicken-wing sauce all over his face and his mouth
open so wide he’d catch flies for sure. Jason Danvers however,
grinned slowly and leaned back in his chair.

Logan didn’t much care for the calculated,
predatorily look on Danver’s face. He didn’t much care for Shane’s
hand on Billie’s back either, which was something he didn’t want to
think about.

“Are you staying or leaving?” Duke asked one
more time.

“I’ll take another,” he answered without
thinking.

“Huh.”

Logan grabbed the cold beer and nodded as
Shane slid into the seat beside him, while they both watched Billie
head for the ladies room.

“I’ll take two cold ones, Duke,” Gallagher
signalled the big man behind the bar.

“I didn’t think she was coming out,” Logan
said, taking a swig from his bottle.

Shane’s eyes lingered on Billie for a half
second too long and then he shrugged. “I’m kind of glad she
did.”

“Gallagher,” Logan started, keeping his gaze
level as Shane swung back toward him. “She’s Bobbi’s sister. Are
you really gonna go there?”

For a moment Shane’s eyes darkened and his
mouth thinned. He nodded as Duke set two cold beers in front of him
and then took a long, generous swig before he spoke.

“Bobbi and I are old news,” He shrugged. “I
don’t think she gives a shit who I’m seeing or who I might be
interested in.”

“They’re women...sisters,” Logan answered.
“Trust me, they care about that kind of crap.”

Shane smiled and Logan didn’t quite like the
glint in his buddy’s eye.

“What’s it to you anyway? Aren’t your hands
full with Sabrina?”

“Hey, Duke, how are things?” Billie’s husky
voice caught Logan’s attention and his reply to Shane died in his
throat.

He didn’t have a chance to assure his friend
that A) He and Sabrina were no longer an item, but more
importantly, B) He wasn’t interested in Billie-Jo Barker. She was
Betty’s sister and after the hot mess he’d fallen into with the
model, he was steering clear of any one of the Barker triplets.

No way was he getting involved. That was a
complication he didn’t need.

But he could still look out for her. Logan
might not know much, but he sure as hell knew Shane Gallagher was
way out of Billie-Jo Barker’s league. He’d hurt her. It’s what his
friend did. It’s why—in a way—he and Bobbi were made for each
other.

Billie’s cheeks were flush, eyes glistening
like jewels and her long hair hung carelessly past her shoulders,
the ends still damp and waving against her leather jacket. Jesus
Christ, but he was a sucker for long hair.

Logan stood a little straighter, aware that
most eyes in the place were centered on them. Or rather on Billie.
On her soft, faded jeans. The ones that cupped her butt in a way
that made any man with a libido look. His gaze dropped to the area
in question—hell, he was a man after all and couldn’t help
himself—and he swallowed heavily as she leaned forward to grab the
beer Shane had bought for her.

She smelled fresh. Clean. Uncluttered with
the cloying perfumes that most women he knew wore.

His nostrils flared and he took a step back.
He liked it.

What the hell was wrong with him? This was
Betty’s sister. Little Billie-Jo Barker and just because she wasn’t
little anymore, or walking around in hockey jerseys with her hair
in a ponytail…

He must be tired, because an image of Billie
clad in a hockey jersey—a tiny pink one with his number emblazoned
across her chest and that long inky mess of hair around her
shoulders—nearly did him in. The girl was off limits. There was no
way he’d even entertain the idea.

Logan dropped his gaze from that sweet butt,
ignored the sly smile Gallagher shot his way and downed his beer.
It was time for him to go.

It had been a long week and he was better off
relaxing at home and working off his frustrations the old fashioned
way. A hot shower and a little manual stimulation should do the
trick.

Duke cleared his throat and arched a brow as
he leaned in to wipe an invisible speck of dirt from the bar. “I
can’t lie, Billie, things have been better.”

Billie took a long drink and then held the
bottle loosely, her long, elegant fingers tapping the side of it
nervously. Her fingernails were short, but coated with clear gloss.
Billie might be a jock when it came to hockey, but she was all
woman. There was no mistaking that.

“Sorry to hear that you and uh, Jackie are,”
she faltered as Duke’s face tightened, his handlebar mustache
quivering in indignation. “Um, having…issues.”

Billie’s eyes swung to Logan and she stared
at him for a few seconds before dropping her gaze and glancing
away. She pushed a long chunk of hair behind her ear and Logan
immediately zeroed in on the creamy skin now exposed.

His mouth went dry as he followed the line of
her cheek bone, down to the shadowed hollow at her neck. His groin
tightened and he had to shift, suddenly uncomfortable and more than
a little horny.

What the hell? He really needed to leave.

Logan glanced at Shane. “I’ll see you at
home.”

“Sure will,” Gallagher answered softly. “But
don’t wait up, darling.”

Logan’s gaze traveled from Shane to Billie.
He didn’t like the way her eyes slid away from his, like she was
hiding something. Had they planned on hooking up? Is that what this
was all about?

With a sigh, Logan nodded and turned on his
heel. The two of them were adults—consenting adults—and if
Billie-Jo Barker wanted to sample Shane Gallagher’s moves, who was
he to stop her?

The cool night air did nothing to assuage the
heat that pressed down on him like a hammer. By the time Logan
reached his home he was royally pissed off with no explanation as
to why.

He parked inside his garage and glared at the
empty space beside him. As a condition of Shane’s parole, Logan had
agreed to let his buddy live in the loft apartment above his
garage.

“Ah hell.” Logan slid from his truck and
slammed the garage door shut behind him. He glanced up at the dark
loft and frowned before heading toward the main residence several
feet beyond an ancient oak tree.

His house was well over a hundred years old—a
century home, built in the 1800’s. He’d picked it up for a song a
few years earlier, and he’d been working on it ever since.

Logan hopped onto the porch and let himself
inside where he was immediately accosted by a purring bundle of
energy. The cat had come with the property. It was a stray and he
hadn’t had the heart to turn the pathetic creature away when it had
shown up the first morning after he’d moved in.

The animal had been nothing but a bag of
bones, with matted fur and a missing right eye. Its tail was
crooked, the bone permanently altered—whether by foul means Logan
couldn’t be sure. The only thing he was sure of, was the fact that
the cat was about the ugliest thing he’d ever seen with its
gray/black fur and mottled orange accents.

His nephew had called it weird and oddly
enough, the name had stuck.

Logan slipped out of his boots and trudged
upstairs, still feeling restless but not knowing what to do. He
decided another shower might do the trick, but hours later he was
still wide awake, with Weird curled next to him, purring
loudly.

He cursed, rolled over and sat on the edge of
his bed for a few minutes until his eyes adjusted to the gloom. A
glance at the clock on the dresser across the room told him it was
half past three. He’d been home by eleven.

For several moments he stared at the clock,
running his hands over the shadow that now graced his jaw. He
hadn’t heard the low rumble of Shane’s bike, so he was pretty sure
Gallagher wasn’t home.

What the hell was he doing? Was he out with
Billie? Up to no good?

Why did he care?

[i]
I don’t[
i].

Except he kinda sorta did and it was the main
reason hours later—after he’d eventually fallen asleep—that he woke
up pissed off. Not even three cups of strong, black coffee made him
feel better. He was grumpy, out of sorts and, he had to be honest,
more than a little anxious. He thought of Sabrina. She’d left a
message on his machine asking him to come over and work things
out.