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“That’s awesome,” Bobbi exclaimed. She sat
back and grinned at her sister. “I’m so proud of you, Billie. You
know that right?”

“Shit, Bobbi. Keep that up and you’re going
to make me cry.”

“Well it’s true. You never let anything or
anyone get you down or get in the way of what you wanted. That
takes balls.”

“No, it takes an iron fisted vagina.”

“Oh, god, the visual.”

Billie grinned, but then her smile faltered
and she chewed on her bottom lip the way she did when she was
thinking way too hard.

“Why don’t you work for me?” she asked
suddenly. “I mean, I know it’s not your dream job or anything but
I’ve known for a while I need to hire someone to run the business
end of things. Logan helped me a bit in the beginning, but he’s
busy with his shop. They’ve got orders for the next three years if
you can believe it.”

Bobbi glanced down at the desk once more. At
the checks that needed to be deposited. At the pile of paperwork.
At the phone that flashed with who knew how many unanswered
calls…

It was a complete and utter mess.

“So, what do you think? I’ll pay you whatever
Gerry did. I don’t care. I need someone and I need someone now and
who better than my sister?”

Bobbi was good at complete and utter messes
as long as the complete and utter messes had nothing to do with her
very own screwed up, personal life.

“Okay,” she said glancing around. “Okay, I’ll
start right now.”

Billie squealed, lunged forward and grabbed
her in a quick hug. “The bank deposit book is here someplace. Oh,
and there are a bunch of credit card payments that still need to be
processed and then there’s the website and—”

“Hold on chicklet, I’ll get to all of that in
good time but let me wade through this first.”

“Cool, oh and you might want to give Mr.
Talbot a call at his store.”

“Why?” Frank Talbot owned the local sporting
goods store. Talbot’s Sports had been around for more than a
generation and was the go-to place when in the need for sporting
equipment of any kind.

“Well, I agreed to sponsor the Hockey Shirt
dance this Saturday and there are a lot of details that he wants
info on.”

“Oh,” Bobbi glanced down at the mess on the
desk. “And these details would be where?”

Billie took a step back. “Well that’s the
thing. I haven’t dealt with them yet.”

“You haven’t dealt with them.”

“No.”

“And the fundraiser is less than a week
away.”

Billie nodded, her face open wide with a
grin. “I guess you can add that to your list of things to get
to.”

Sure
, Bobbi thought glancing down at
the mess in front of her.
I’ll get right on that
.

By Friday Shane was in a piss ugly mood.

It had been brewing all week, a culmination
of many things, and for the most part the other techs kept out of
his way.

He’d been working on a custom bike for the
last two days and had just pinched his fingers for the tenth time
while working on the brakes when Logan approached.

Shane glanced up at him, his face tight in a
scowl. “What now?” He stood and rolled his shoulders, trying to
loosen the tense muscles that stretched across them.

“Can I see you?” Logan nodded toward his
office and Shane’s scowl deepened.

He tossed his tools onto the floor beside the
bike. “Sure, boss.”

Shane followed Forest across the busy shop,
his mood dark, though he managed a half-hearted smile as Janelle
waved to him from her office. Logan’s office manager, Janelle was
married to Logan’s cousin, and newly pregnant with their fourth
child. To say the man was a lucky son-of-a-bitch was an
understatement. Janelle was as beautiful on the inside as she was
on the outside. She had a great sense of humor, loved a good
practical joke, didn’t mind when the F bombs started to fly and
looked damn good in plain old T-shirt and jeans.

What would it feel like to have a woman like
that standing beside you?

Shane gave himself a mental shake and closed
the door behind him, shoving his hands into the front pockets of
his coveralls as he watched Logan help himself to a cup of
coffee.

“You want one?” Logan asked.

“Nope. What’s up?”

“I’m not sure if you know this or not, but
Bobbi is working for Billie now.”

Irritated, Shane’s eyebrows shot up. “And I
should care because…”

Logan took another sip of his coffee before
placing it onto his desk. “I’m not exactly sure what happened
between you two last week, though judging from your mood I have a
pretty good idea. I just…”

Christ, here we go.

“What?” Shane asked. “You gonna warn me off?
Tell me that she’s bad news and that I’ll end up a fucking mess
again?” Shane ran his hands through his hair and shrugged. “You
don’t need to do that anymore, Forest. I’m a big boy now. We laid
down the ground rules before anything happened. We had sex. Just
sex and nothing more. Just for one night. I got her out of my
system and I’m good.”

Logan leveled his gaze. “You’re good.”

“Yep.”

Keep saying and you might believe
it
.

“So why the hell have you been such an
asshole all week?”

Shane was quiet for a few moments as the old
anger rolled through him. His hands balled into fists and he had to
work real hard to keep his breathing controlled.

“I’m surprised you haven’t heard,” he said
eventually.

“Heard what?”

Shane sank into the seat opposite to Logan’s
desk, his long legs sprawled out in front of him as he took a
moment to gather his thoughts—to make the chaotic anger inside him,
smooth and controlled.

“My father is back in town.”

At Logan’s frown, Shane exhaled. “For good.
He’s moved back with his wife and my little sister who isn’t so
little anymore. She’s in high school if you can believe it.” He ran
a hand over his chin and shook his head. “God, I haven’t seen Eden
in nearly five years.”

“Shit,” Logan said gruffly, grabbing his
coffee and downing it in one long gulp.

“Yeah,” Shane answered. “And that’s not the
half of it.” He glanced down at his work boots. “He came by the
carriage house last Saturday. He knows I finally met with my
grandfather’s lawyers and he’s pissed that White Hall was left to
me. He offered to buy it back – says he can’t let me have it and I
know it’s because he thinks I’ll fuck it up. Ruin everything.”

“And?”

Shane glanced at Logan sharply. “I turned him
down.”

“But you haven’t even been out there. I know
that the farm’s manager, Steve Mathews, has been trying to get you
to agree to a meeting for months.” He shook his head. “Seems to me
like you don’t want it.”

“I want it.” The words fell out of his mouth
before he could take them back. Before he could berate himself for
even thinking them.

He looked Logan straight in the eye and spoke
firmly so there was no way his friend could misunderstand. “I want
White Hall but I don’t deserve it.”

“It’s been four years, Shane.” Logan stood up
and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Your grandfather would
never have left you White Hall if he didn’t want you to have it. If
he didn’t think you deserved it.”

Shane shook his head, his throat tight, his
mind shadowed with memory. “You don’t know what happened that
night. The things I said to him…the things I did.”

“No, I don’t and I don’t want to know. But
here’s the thing, you paid your debt and you’ve been given a second
chance.” Logan leaned forward. “Your grandfather
wanted
you
to have a second chance. So why the hell are you throwing it away?
You want White Hall? Then do something about it.”

Logan pushed off from the desk and crossed
over to the office door. He paused, his hand on the knob. “A few
months ago when Billie had my head so screwed up I didn’t know
which way was up or which way was down, you told me that that life
was too short to not take a chance on something that was good.
Something that was meaningful. Someone that I wanted.” He cleared
his throat. “You were right about that Gallagher, so maybe it’s
time you listened to your own advice.”

“Easier said than done my friend.”

But the room was empty and Shane was talking
to himself. He sighed heavily and jumped to his feet. The only way
he was going to get through this day was to dig in and finish the
damn bike he was working on. Once he clocked out, he’d go home and
lose himself in his art.

In this crazy life that belonged to him, it
was the one thing that grounded him. Calmed him. Kept him sane.

It was also the one connection to a painful
past he wasn’t ready to let go of. The one thing his father hated
the most. The one thing Shane shared with a mother who was long
gone from this earth.

The parking lot at the community center was
full. Actually, it was more than full. There were trucks and cars
parked on the curb, straddling the sidewalk and a few had dared to
park on old man MacEachern’s front lawn.

Shane had found one of the last legit parking
spots, though he’d been sitting in his truck for at least half an
hour, while he stared into space and wondered why the hell he’d
agreed to meet up with his team.

The Hockey Shirt dance was a fundraiser for
the local kid’s teams and while it had grown in popularity over the
last decade or so, he’d never been part of the crowd that flocked
to it year after year. It was an excuse to drink, dance and party,
while sporting either your kid’s hockey shirt, or the team you
rooted for.

It wasn’t his thing, but because Billie was
involved this year, Logan had offered up their men’s team to help
out at the event. The Angry Pirates were on duty and he’d agreed to
come the night before. It had been after their game and too many
beers to count.

Shane scowled, pissed that he had let Logan
and Billie rope him into this.

The Hockey Shirt dance was in full swing.
Loud music drifted outside as the doors opened and closed behind
those coming and going. Overhead the stark, cold moon shone down
upon crisp, crunchy snow. It was cold as hell with a brisk northern
wind rattling along the frozen ground.

A loud rap on the window had him jumping and
Shane swore as he glared out at the faces of a few of his
teammates. Pete Tortolini’s goofy grin told him the goalie had
already been into the sauce and their teammate Mike wasn’t far
behind.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he said and
watched the pair trek across the parking lot and disappear inside
the building.

Was Bobbi inside?

His gut clenched at the thought of her and
even though he’d been the one to lay the ground rules the week
before—the one who’d insisted their ‘reunion’ was only for one
night—he was still more than a little pissed that she’d dismissed
him so readily. It burned his ass just thinking about waking up and
finding her already gone.

But then, had he really expected anything
more? Did he want anything more?

“Fuck,” he muttered, undecided on what to do
as his gaze settled on a few new arrivals. He sat straighter in his
seat when he realized that the tall blond man walking toward the
community center was Gerald Dooley and he wasn’t alone. His arm was
across the back of Logan’s ex-girlfriend Sabrina Fairfax.

Since when was Dooley interested in
sports?

Since when was Sabrina interested in anyone
other than Logan?

He watched the couple pause near the
entrance, Dooley digging through his pockets for something,
Sabrina’s stance suggesting she was impatient, or irritated.
Finally, Dooley found whatever the hell it was he’d been looking
for and the two continued on inside.

Obviously the man had moved on and quickly.
He wondered what Bobbi’s reaction was going to be. Would she be
hurt? Relieved? Pissed off?

Was she even inside?

The ugliness that had simmered beneath the
surface all week rose to the fore and before Shane could stop
himself he was out the door and striding toward the community
center. Restless energy thrummed inside his chest and he wasn’t
entirely sure what he was looking for.

But as he pushed open the door and was hit
with a wall of heat, music, the smell of beer and jostling bodies,
he was pretty damn sure he was going to find it.

He’d barely taken two steps when he heard his
name.

“Shane Gallagher. Wow.”

He turned and spied Betty Jo Barker leaning
against the wall with Matt Hawkins hanging off her as if she was
the fucking bee’s knees. The foyer was full of people—those waiting
to get inside the main room where the band was playing up a storm
and those wanting a bit of quiet.

Betty and Matt however, seemed to be on the
prowl for attention. She was half dressed and he was half in the
bag.

A stranger would have one hell of a time
distinguishing the three girls. But he’d known them a long time and
Betty was different than Billie and Bobbi. She was a sex kitten on
steroids. It wasn’t anything tangible really, just a certain way
she tilted her head. The direct look in her eyes when she wanted
your attention, or the way her mouth seemed to pout no matter what
she did.

He knew her modeling career had stalled and
though Shane wasn’t privy to the details, he knew a fuck up when he
saw one.

She licked her lips, a practiced routine for
sure, and shoved Matt to the side. Hawkins swore and glared at
Shane as Betty walked toward him, her narrow hips sheathed in the
shortest leather skirt he’d seen since…well, since Bobbi used to
tease the hell out of him in that little black number she used to
wear.

For Hawkins sake, he hoped at least this
triplet was in the habit of wearing underwear or the guy was in for
it.