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
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
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