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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.
Chapter Five
The game was over way before Billie was ready for it to be. God, it felt so good to be flying aroun
d 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.”
