Offside (6 page)

Billie-Jo Barker was in the middle of a
dressing-room chalk full of testosterone, half naked men and—Mike
Dearling’s grin widened as he walked toward her and let one
rip—gas.

She knew what was going on. A quick switch of
numbers and these idiots thought a little bit of naked man flesh
was enough to send her packing. They thought their scratching and
hairy body parts would scare her.

Billie glared at Mike. They had no Goddamn
clue what she could put up with.

None.

Mike kept walking until he was so close that
an impressive amount of body odor hit her full blast. Mixed with
his early start on the beers, she wrinkled her nose and watched as
his grin widened.

“What’s wrong, Barker?” Mike rubbed his belly
and it jiggled grotesquely. “You a little rattled?”

Snickers greeted him and Billy set her bag
down. She gave him a once over, taking her time as she slowly
perused every inch of his sorry hide. “Nope. Not rattled so much
as…” her voice trailed off. The game was changing but Mike was
either too stupid or too drunk to realize it.

He nodded, thinking he had her. “This is what
it’s all about little girl. We play hockey. We drink. We burp and
fart—”

“Speak for yourself, Dearling.” Logan
inserted sarcastically as a few men chuckled.

Mike’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t want you here
and if you’re rattled before we even head out onto the ice—”

Billie cocked her head, but remained cool as
a cucumber. “Clean your ears out Dearling, or are they full of hair
too? I said I wasn’t rattled, so much as embarrassed.”

“You should be embarrassed.” Jason Danvers
piped in, though now at least his junk was safely tucked away
inside his long-johns. “This is a men’s league.”

Billie moved her focus from Mike to Jason for
just a moment. The guy was good looking—Hollywood type good
looking—but he’d always been an arrogant asshole and had a chip on
his shoulder because every Barker triplet had turned him down. Even
Betty and she was the easy one.

Billie stared at him hard until he looked
away and then she turned back to Mike. “I’m not embarrassed for
myself, Mike. I’m really, really, sorry for you.”

Mike’s ruddy complexion darkened and he swore
beneath his breath as he took a step toward her. He was too close
and it took everything inside Billie, to stay put and not move
backward. “Why the fuck would you feel sorry for me?” he asked
harshly.

Billie looked him straight in the eye.
Slowly, she let her gaze drop past the flabby stomach and then she
arched her brow dramatically. Hell, Betty would be proud.

“Well, for starters you smell like shit.” She
hoisted her bag onto her shoulders and then met his eyes once more.
“And secondly,” she paused, noticing the flush that crept up his
chest and onto his neck. “That is the smallest dick I’ve ever
seen.”

Someone laughed and she thought Mike’s head
was going to explode. His eyes were wide, the whites bloodshot and
his cheeks were puffed up to twice their size.

“Seriously,” she paused dramatically. “It’s
not even cold in here.”

A full blown guffaw echoed in the silence and
though Logan bent over to tie up his skates, she thought she saw a
whisper of a smile on his face.

She glanced around the room one more time and
made sure to make eye contact with each and every one of them.
Shane Gallagher tipped his head as if to say, good job. “We’re on
the ice in ten minutes. I’ll see you boys out there.”

She turned and exited the dressing room,
leaving the Angry Pirates subdued, quiet and some of them hurrying
like hell to cover up their privates.

The game was over way before Billie was ready
for it to be. God, it felt so good to be flying around the ice,
weaving through bodies, setting up plays and scoring goals. Sure it
had started out rough, but then it’s not like she’d expected open
arms or anything.

At first no one would pass the puck, except
Logan, Shane, and a few others including, surprisingly, Jason
Danvers. But, to Billie’s way of thinking, Danvers was probably
angling for a way to score off the ice.

There were strict rules of no contact, so
while being hit wasn’t an issue, the play tended to get chippy in
the corners and along the boards and while she should have kept
away from them, she couldn’t help it, she was a gamer. Besides, no
one out here was looking to actually hurt her. That would be
crazy.

By the time the third period rolled around,
the competitive nature that lives inside every hockey player reared
its head and her wingers were doing everything in their power to
feed her the puck. They weren’t stupid…they were winning 10-4 and
she’d scored 8 of their goals.

But Billie wasn’t stupid either. She dialled
down her skills and coasted through the remaining period. She
didn’t see the need to pulverize the other team. Her line was A-1
in the neutral zone and pressing forward, were pretty much
unbeatable by the other team.

Sure, she suffered through a lot of cheap
shots on the ice…sticks found their way to the back of her calf,
and up underneath her arms, but she gritted her teeth and carried
on.

Logan, one of her defensemen, saw a few of
the nastier pokes and she knew he’d hit back when he could and for
what it was worth, she was grateful for the gesture. Not that he
wouldn’t do it for any of his other players, it was code after all,
but still, it felt good to have at least one of her team-mates
standing up for her.

When the game was over, Billie was high on
the sheer joy she got playing the game. She left the ice ahead of
the others, quickly showered and changed. It wasn’t until she was
drying her hair, and the quiet pressed in on her that she started
to come down from the clouds. Part of hockey, heck, most of hockey
was the fact that as a player, you were part of a team. There was
nothing sweeter than celebrating a win with your teammates . She
knew they were all heading for beers at The Grill, but no one had
invited her along. Not even Logan.

Not that she was interesting in going. Not
really.

“Whatever,” she muttered to herself as she
scooped up her bag and grabbed her sticks. “At least I got to
play.”

Even though she’d help them kick ass tonight,
she knew for the most part the men on her team weren’t happy she’d
invaded their all-male environment and she wasn’t going to push it.
Not yet anyway.

She stepped through the door and froze.

Logan Forest leaned against the wall, long,
denim clad legs crossed casually like he’d been there a while. Wide
shoulders stretched beneath distressed leather and his sexy-as-hell
eyes looked at her with an intensity that left her mouth dry. His
hair was damp from the shower, curling near his collar and even
though he was covered up, she knew what was under there.

Tattoos and hard-ass muscle.

He was the most delicious thing she’d ever
laid eyes on and for one second, all those old feelings rushed
through her. The ones of longing, fantasy, and briefly…hurt.

“Great game, kid.” His voice was like warm
chocolate, so smooth and sinful it wasn’t fair.

“Thanks,” she managed to get out.

“Sorry about the room mix-up earlier.” He
grabbed his bag and indicated he’d follow her out. “Dearling is an
asshole.”

“I can’t argue with you there.”

Billie moved past him and she wondered if he
was checking out her butt. Seemed like a fair assumption
considering she’d be doing exactly [i]
that
[i] if he was in
front of her. The thought brought heat to her cheeks and she
thanked the Lord that she’d dragged on her worn and faded, Levi’s.
They may not be trendy like Bobbi’s skinny jeans, but they made her
ass look damn good.

They paused at the top of the stairs, in the
lobby of the twin pads. The second hour of men’s league was
running, as well as a rep team practice on the other side. There
was a line-up at the concession stand, the smell of popcorn and
hotdogs filled the air.

The smell alone was enough to put Billie in
her happy place and it didn’t matter the nasty odor of hockey gear
wafted in the air as well. She was a rink rat through and through
and always felt more at home here than anywhere else.

“You heading to The Grill?” Logan asked.

“No,” she answered abruptly, shaking her
head. “I don’t think the guys are ready for our relationship to
progress that fast. We’re not even in the honeymoon stage yet and
besides, I can’t get the image of Dearling’s hairy ass out of my
head.”

He stared down at her and though she wanted
to drag her eyes away, Billie couldn’t. The man had superpowers or
something…a weird tracking device that claimed every pair of female
eyes in the lobby and wouldn’t let go. She knew this because at the
moment, there were at least ten pairs of them aimed his way.

“Okay,” he smiled and Billie wasn’t prepared
for the hundred watt mega wash of deliciousness. Her cheeks heated
like she was no more than twelve, and her heart sped up so much
that she was out of breath. Superpowers didn’t come close to
describing the kind of mojo Logan Forest possessed. It had only
gotten stronger with time. “They’ll come around, Billie.”

“Thanks,” she murmured and stepped out of the
way as he strode past.

“I’ll see you next Friday.”

“Sure will.” Billie’s eyes fell to that
delicious butt and then he was gone.

She hiked her bag up and followed him
outside, though her car was parked on the far side. She cut to the
left as Logan’s truck pulled away and she watched his taillights
disappear into the dark. For one second she thought that maybe,
just maybe, she’d head to The Grill for one drink.

It couldn’t hurt…could it?

As Billie approached her car, the soft buzz
she’d been feeling vanished. It was replaced with a cold shot of
anger and if she was honest, a whole lot of hurt.

All four doors of her old Honda had been
keyed, as well as the trunk where the word ‘HO’ was scratched in
but good. The hood was lucky enough to garner the word ‘PUSSY’. She
dropped her bag and sticks and walked around the vehicle, feeling
her heart squeeze when she noticed all four tires slashed as
well.

A strangled cry escaped her throat, and she
couldn’t lie, those were the hot, bitter sting of tears poking at
the corner of her eyes. Who the hell would do something as asinine
and juvenile as this? Who could be so mean spirited and nasty?

She thought of Dearling and Danvers, of Seth
Longwood and who knows how many other men who resented the hell out
of her. It could have been any of them. She winced at the thought
because according to Bobbi, it could have been half the town.

Suddenly tired and defeated, Billie whipped
out her cell and called home. And promptly got the answering
machine. [i]
Criminal Minds
[i] marathon. Right.

“Shit.”

“You need some help?”

Her head shot up and she spied Shane
Gallagher standing a few feet away, next to a pretty serious
looking motorcycle.

“Hey,” she answered a little warily, turning
to the side as she wiped the corners of her eyes. “Someone decided
to use my car to sharpen their keys.”

He walked toward her. “I see that.” Shane
bent down and surveyed the damage. He glanced up and frowned.
“Guess they thought you didn’t need your tires either.”

“Yeah, looks like.” What else was there to
say?

He stood back and swore beneath his breath as
he walked around her car and surveyed the damage. “Well, the good
news is that your car is a hunk of junk and not really worth
much.”

Irritated, Billie frowned. “Gee, thanks for
that.”

Shane shrugged. “It’s the truth.” He flashed
a smile and Billie had to admit, the man had more than his fair
share of charisma. “It won’t take much to grind the scratches out
and get a cheap paint job.” He looked down at the car again. “As
for the tires, get a set of used winter’s and you’ll be fine. I
wouldn’t bother putting it through your insurance because chances
are your deductible will be close to what you’d pay to fix it
anyway.”

“Good to know.” Billie was beyond irritated
now. Her deductible was high. She’d agreed to a higher deductible
in lieu of cheaper rates. Figures. Guess she’d be dipping into her
emergency funds sooner than she thought.

“I’d call Ed to come and tow it for you but
he’s at The Grill.”

Wonderful. Ed Cronkwright. The goalie on the
team they’d just pulverized.

Billie looked up at the night sky and
exhaled. Her night just got better and better. She fingered her
cell and thought of calling home again but she knew her father was
most likely in bed and Gramps was plunked in front of the
television, with his bowl of extra salty popcorn and a supply of
diet Coke. He’d never pick up the phone because the TV volume would
be way too loud and since she didn’t want to disturb her father it
looked like she’d be hiking it home.

“You may as well leave it and we’ll tell Ed
to tow it later tonight.”

She sighed. “I suppose.”

“Why don’t you toss your gear in the trunk
and I’ll give you a lift.”

Billie bit her lip. If anyone came back and
stole her equipment she’d be more than pissed, but she sure as hell
didn’t feel like lugging it all the way home either. Decision made,
she popped the trunk and tossed her stuff inside and then turned to
Shane.

“Where’s your bag?”

“I stowed it in Forest’s truck.” Shane nodded
to his bike. “Let’s go.”

Billie hesitated and his smile widened.

“You afraid of me, Barker?”

She eyed him for a moment and then asked the
question that had been burning in the back of her mind ever since
she’d seen him the week before. “So, what’s with you and my
sister?”

In an instant the warmth vanished from his
eyes and was replaced with a frosty glare. He was silent for a
moment, his dark eyes intense and Billie wondered for probably the
twentieth time, how on earth her sister could have been with
someone like Shane Gallagher and then ended up with a wet rag like
Gerry Dooley.