A Barker Family Christmas (7 page)

“Was it now,” she said throatily. “Maybe we should ask Weird what he thought.”

“I could. That damn cat has watched us have sex more times than I’d like to admit.”

A throat cleared and they glanced up, Billie blushing, Logan grinning at the expression on the server’s face.

“Our cat’s a pervert,” he said.

The server, Beth, according to her nametag, arched an eyebrow. “And its name is Weird?”

“If you saw the cat, you’d understand.”

“Okay,” Beth said with a laugh. “What can I get you two?”

Logan glanced at the menu and they ordered an appetizer—Billie had a weakness for deep fried pickles—and the steak and lobster special. Christmas carols piped through the full restaurant, the decorations were spot on, and as he watched the woman across from him, Logan settled back, thinking ahead to all of the things he was going to do to her in—he glanced at his watch, it was just after nine—under three hours.

“So, Billie.”

She smiled. “So Logan.”

“I plan on keeping to our schedule.”

Her eyebrow shot up. “Schedule?”

He leaned across the table and snuck a kiss before their server came back. “I expect to have you naked by midnight, and I don’t care where the hell we are. If we’re stuck in traffic I’ll be pulling over and ripping that dress off. So be warned.”

Again, the soft laughter that fell from her mouth made his chest tight. She opened her mouth to say something—something naughty no doubt—when the lights went out.

For a few seconds, there was complete silence and then cellphones came out and a low thrum of voices filled the restaurant.

“I’m sure the power will be back on in a few minutes,” Billie said glancing around the room. With all the cell phones lit, it was easy enough to see.

Logan spied their server and motioned the woman over. He gave her a quick smile. “You have any idea what’s going on?”

The woman shrugged. “My boss says it’s because of the ice. It was off earlier for a bit. They’ve got a call in to Hydro, but there were a lot of lines down because of the storm so who knows how long it will take for them to get here and figure it out.”

Logan glanced back at Billie, hoping she wasn’t too disappointed. Their dinner date wasn’t looking all that promising.

“And I’m gonna assume since the lights haven’t come back on, you guys don’t have back up generators?”

“We do,” she said with sigh. “But they’re obviously not working either. I have no idea how long your food is going to take or even if they’ll be able to fill any of the orders. I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t more than five minutes later that the owner came over to apologize for the inconvenience with gift cards for another night. The verdict was in, the hydro wouldn’t be fixed for several hours, and he was closing up shop.

Billie wasn’t happy—he could see that—but truthfully, Logan was willing to overlook his hunger pains in order to get his fill of something else altogether. Namely his wife.

“Why don’t we just head home?” he asked carefully as they pulled out of the parking lot.

“No! No way. It’s date night, Logan. I haven’t worn this dress in forever and I just…I want us to have a nice romantic dinner. Is that too much to ask?”

“No,” Logan answered. “Where to, Captain?”

She shrugged. “The entire city block seems to be out of power and who knows what else is affected here. I guess we should head back to New Waterford.” She slumped back into her seat, flipping off the Christmas music. “So much for a romantic dinner.”

There really was only one place to go. He arched a brow and tried to hide his grin. “The Grill?”

“Well I sure as hell am not going to the Donut Diner in this dress.”

He chuckled. The Grill it was.

Billie was trying her best to hide her disappointment at the way their evening was going, so when they pulled into the parking lot of The Grill, she pasted a big ass smile on her face because she had a feeling it was only going to get worse.

And it did.

For one thing, the place was hopping and by the looks of the full lot, they’d be lucky to snag a stool at the bar. Not a good sign.

She stepped out of the truck and her heel slid across a sheet of ice, which meant that Billie landed square on her butt. A butt covered in red silk. The red silk, of course, belonging to the most expensive dress in her closet. (One that technically she didn’t own as it was a borrow off her sister, Betty—Oops.)

“Shit,” she muttered scrambling to her feet and dusting herself off. She spied a rip along the hemline and let loose with another round of curse words that would make a priest blush.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, Seth Longwood, a guy she’d had more than a few run-ins with, saw the whole thing. His grin went from one jowly cheek to the other, though he hightailed it into The Grill when Logan walked around the side of the truck.

“Hey,” Logan said, arms sliding around her, voice filled with concern. “You okay?”

“Sure,” she replied curtly. “Couldn’t be any better. Nothing damaged except this dress and my pride.”

“We can just go home, Billie.” His warm breath caressed her neck. “I’ll make it worth your while.” His voice held promise, and sex, and chocolate. Most women would have hightailed it home, but Billie wasn’t most women. And maybe it was her competitive nature or maybe she was just stubborn as hell, but she hated losing.

Exasperated, she yanked on his arm. “No way, Logan. I’m buying you dinner if it’s the last thing I do tonight.”

“Trust me. It’s definitely
not
going to be the last thing you do tonight.”

She pushed open the doors to the restaurant and they both took a moment to gaze around the room. The place was packed. With men. Lots and lots of men. Oh, there were some women too, but the majority of them were men and they were loud and they were only going to get louder as the night progressed.

“Shit,” Logan murmured. “It’s the hockey league Christmas thingy.”

Billie frowned, waving to a bunch of guys on her team. “I don’t remember seeing the memo on that one.”

“Yeah,” Logan said, hand at her back as they began to make their way inside. “They sent out an email over a month ago, but you said we’d be too busy to go on account of your sister’s wedding.”

“Right,” she murmured, eyes moving around the place. There were no seats.

She spied Duke Everett and his wife behind the bar and headed their way.

“Well hell, Forest. You clean up real good,” Duke said with a grin and a wink. “Date night?”

“It was supposed to be,” Billie grumbled. “Are there any tables, Duke? We haven’t eaten yet and I’m starved.” She smiled at his wife, who gave them a wink and continued making the saddest looking margarita Billie had ever seen.

Duke handed a draft to the guy directly in front of him and then pointed to the end of the bar. “Old Mike just paid his tab. I believe he and his boy are heading out.”

Great. With a sigh, she offered a smile. “Okay,” she said. “We’ll grab them.”

Billie took off her jacket, ignoring a few catcalls that came her way as she slid onto the stool beside Logan. Seriously. The dress wasn’t meant for barstools and if it rode up any higher, well, Logan wasn’t the only one who was going to get a peek at her new undies.

“What can I get you?” Duke asked.

Billie smiled brightly. “A nice Californian Pinot Grigio would be lovely.”

Duke’s thick eyebrows meshed into one massive uni-brow as he tweaked the ends of his handlebar mustache. He glanced from Logan and then back to Billie. “A Pinot what?”

Billie sighed. It had been worth a shot. “Never mind, Duke. We’ll take a couple drafts.”

The owner gave her one more look and headed to the taps, while Billie rested her elbows on the bar and glanced up at Logan. His dark eyes were on her, the long lashes hooded.

“I guess beer and wings it is,” she said glumly.

Billie wasn’t sure if he heard her or not because he leaned forward and captured her mouth in a kiss that made her toes curl and her insides heat. If there was a prize for best kisser, Logan would win hands down. The guy knew how to use his mouth.

When Logan finally pulled away, Billie’s cheeks were red, she was hot and flustered and aware that the two of them were the object of attention for a lot of the men in the room. At least judging from the catcalls and whistles.

And someone yelling at them to, ‘get a room’.

“What was that for?” she murmured, forehead resting against Logan’s.

His finger ran over the top of her hand and she shivered, moving so that she could see his eyes.

“I don’t care if we’re at the Twisted Lemon or the fast food joint across the street or even the Donut Diner for that matter. The fact that you went to all this trouble to plan a night for us.” His dark eyes glittered as they slowly moved down her body and then back up again. “The fact that you’re wearing a dress that only makes me want to rip it off? Babe, do you really think I care where we are?”

His hands slipped up to cup her face. “I care about you. I love you. And if we have to spend the night with these meatheads—“

“Hey! Watch who you’re calling a meathead,” Tom Jones shouted from behind Billie.

“Then move back a few paces, Tom.” Logan swept a light kiss across her mouth and then settled back onto his barstool. “We’re going to have a great night.” He winked as Duke set a couple of large drafts in front of them and Billie relaxed a bit.

“You’re right.” She frowned. “I should maybe check in with Bobbi. See how Abel’s doing.”

“Already done.”

Surprised, Billie gazed at her husband. “When did you manage that?”

“Sent a text while we were at the Twisted Lemon.”

“Really.” Billie hadn’t noticed him with his phone.

“It’s called multi-tasking, darlin’.” His long fingers wrapped around the mug of cold beer, and she watched him take a long drink. His gaze never left hers and just like it had when she’d first come back to New Waterford , the flutters in her stomach went wild. That’s what this man could do. With just one look.

He bent forward, voice low. “I’ve been practicing.”

“You have.”

He nodded. “The whole multi-tasking thing.”

“Should I be impressed?” she asked, trying to hide the smile and the tremble in her voice.

“I don’t want to sound conceited or anything, but hell yes.” His voice sent shivers across her skin. “Thing is?” He said with a wicked grin. “I still need to practice ‘cause there’s a few areas that need work.”

“Really,” she said, trying to catch her breath though her heart was beating so fast it was hard to do.

“Yes,” he replied, voice so low only she could hear. “I plan on doing a lot of multi-tasking when I get you alone. A lot of
practicing
.” He glanced at his watch. “You have until midnight.”

Billie could only stare at him in silence as another wave of those flutters in her stomach flushed her skin from the top of her head all the way to the tips of her toes. The sexual chemistry she and Logan shared was always there, simmering beneath the surface.

She felt it in a glance. In the unsaid words that hung between them.

Here she was in a bar that was full to bursting and yet, with Logan’s eyes on her and those unsaid words between them, she felt as if they were the only two people in the room.

Billie’s heart swelled, her throat closed and she looked away, feeling silly because tears stung the corners of her eyes. Sometimes when she was with Logan, the love she had inside her was so big and strong that she was afraid it would spill out of her in a great big heaping glob of emotion that she would be unable to control. Maybe it was hormones. Maybe it was just the way she was built. But when Billie was mad, she cried. When she was upset, she cried. And when she was happy, she cried.

If she let this ball of emotion inside her break, there would be crying and she wanted no tears tonight.

Nope. She reached for her beer. She was after some sugar and—she glanced up at the clock on the wall behind Duke—only had a few hours to go until her sweet tooth was satisfied. How long could it take to get a basket of wings and some garlic bread?

As it turned out, a hell of a long time. The kitchen staff was shorthanded—something about the flu—and by the time Logan and Billie got their wings, she wasn’t even all that hungry. But she picked away at her food, and the two of them joined in a spirited discussion with the guys sitting at the bar about darts.

Which led to Billie being challenged to a game, and Billie was, if nothing else, always a gamer.

By this time, she’d doffed her four inch heels (why was it that the shoes that made a girls legs look amazing, were always the shoes that pinched the most?) and with Logan cheering her on, squared up in a best of five with none other than Seth Longwood, Mr. Dickhead of New Waterford.

It was a close match—Seth wasn’t too shabby when it came to the darts—but in the end, Billie prevailed, which led to round of shots ordered up by her teammates. She clinked her shot glass with Logan’s and tipped her head back.

As the tequila burned its way down her throat, she jerked around and gazed up at the clock. Shit, crap and fuckedy-fuck-fuck.