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Was that a tattoo along her hip? Shit.
“No, it’s me,” he managed, glad to hear he sounded like he had some kind of control, though judging by the smirk on his brother’s face, Connor wasn’t fooled.
“Oh,” she said softly. “Gramps went to get some more antiseptic, and I thought...”
She hissed as Connor ran a cotton swab over the wound before he straightened. “That should do it.”
Logan crossed over, his brows furled in anger as he took in the raw gash that was now perfectly sown, with nice, precise…
“Eight stitches?”
Connor nodded, sweeping longish blond hair from his eyes. His brother was younger than Logan by two years, prettier than half the women in town, and newly single since he’d broken up with his girlfriend. Logan wished he’d move the hell away from Billie, but then, why would he?
Why would anyone?
In that moment, Logan realized a few things. Billie-Jo Barker intrigued the hell out of him. She was so different from her sisters. Bobbi was type A, anal as all hell, though when she wasn’t trying so hard to be someone else, she wasn’t all that bad.
Betty, well, she was another story entirely.
But Billie…she had him wanting to circle the room and piss in all the corners like a dog marking his territory. What the hell was up with that?
“Yes, the wound was pretty deep. There’s two more inside as well.”
Logan couldn’t believe she’d been jabbed with a stick so hard that the resulting injury required over eight stitches to fix.
“Billie’s a real trooper though. I didn’t have anything to numb it, and I’m sure it hurt like hell, but you’d never know it.”
Billie turned around, and Logan’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. The woman had a body made for athletics all right—long toned limbs—but damn, she’d win in the bedroom too. Her breasts were fully covered, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate their size and shape. A little more than a handful—just the way he liked them.
Her abs were defined, but not too muscular—she was still full of curves and softness, with a waist that was begging for his hands and that ass…
Logan inhaled and turned to the side. What the fuck? She’d just been speared, had taken eight stitches in the side and he was fantasizing about how hot she looked?
For a moment he thought of the other day. Of the smell and taste of her. The way she’d moaned when he’d slid his tongue inside her mouth. Of how good she’d felt pressed up against his body and it was all he could do not to groan and whimper like a fucking teenager begging for it.
For her.
He ran his hands through hair that was all sweaty and wet, buying a little time while he tried to calm himself the hell down.
He thanked all that was holy he still had his hockey pants on because he was sporting one hell of a tent in there, and if it didn’t go away he’d have to clean up at home. There was no way he was walking out of Billie’s dressing room sporting a raging hard-on and then heading into the showers.
He’d never live it down.
“Okay, I’m done,” Connor said as Logan got hold of himself and swung his gaze back. His brother was smiling down at Billie and Logan recognized the look in his eyes. A hungry look. A look filled with anticipation. An interested look.
Connor took a step closer and lowered his voice, but it wasn’t so low that Logan couldn’t hear every single word. “I’m sure glad you’re back, Billie, and really happy I ran into you.”
She smiled. A polite smile? Or a keep talking kind of smile? Logan wasn’t sure so he inched forward, not liking the way this whole thing was playing out. Billie tilted her head, exposing more of that creamy skin between her neck and collarbone and damn if Connor didn’t hone in on that right away. He pretended that he wasn’t interested in that prime expanse of womanly skin, smart bastard, but Logan knew.
Connor put his hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed. “I’m still concerned about your head injury. Remember what I said, all right?”
What the hell was he now? Doctor Phil? The guy was a veterinarian for Christ sake.
Logan watched Billie closely as she nodded. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes huge and that damn mouth was shiny, like she’d just slipped her tongue out and…
“Thanks, Connor, it was good to see you too.”
In Logan’s opinion, Connor’s hand lingered a little too long on her shoulder and then he had the gall to let his fingers slide down her forearm. Logan frowned and stepped forward. Call it a Tarzan thing-and Lord knows Billie didn’t belong to him-but still, his younger brother didn’t have to stand so close to her now, did he? Billie wasn’t his type.
