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Herschel gave his granddaughter a hug and said he’d see her back at the house. He tossed Logan a polite smile before following his brother’s steps out the door.
“I guess I should go,” he said.
Her eyes glistened, the dark lashes fringing them like spiky bits of black feathers. He watched the way she licked her lips and then swallowed. The way her now unbraided hair fell around her shoulders in loose, silken waves.
A soft shudder rolled over him and his groin tightened even more as the smell of her shampoo drifted in the air. Damn, but he’d like to sink his hands into that thick mess and hold her head, just so, and—wait—when the hell had she unleashed the power of her hair on him?
“Yeah, I’m pretty tired,” Billie answered while grabbing her hockey stick, though she groaned as she bent forward.
“Hey, let me get that.” Logan moved before she could answer and grabbed her bag and both of her sticks before indicating he’d follow her out.
Billie was silent for a few seconds as her right hand tugged the edge of her jacket nervously. “You were right,” she finally said.
“Of course I was.”
She looked surprised at his quick response. “Are you always this arrogant?”
“Not always.”
The smile stayed, and hugged the corner of her mouth. “Only on special occasions?”
Logan nodded. “Only with special people.”
“Special can mean a whole lot of things.”
She was flirting with him. Goddamn, but Billie-Jo was flirting with him.
He kinda liked it.
“Sure can.”
“So,” she took a step toward him and he sucked in air that was electrified. Air that fed his body in a way that made him tighter, harder, and he thanked every god he could think of that at least an inch thick of padding stood between his aching cock and Billie-Jo Barker.
Her lips were wet where she’d slowly run her tongue along them. They glistened in the dim lighting, and for a second he couldn’t focus on anything but them. He shifted. Beads of sweat appeared along his brow. He was so screwed. There was no way he was going to be able to hit the showers.
“So,” she continued again, “what kind of special am I?”
Her tongue peeked out from between her lips. Holy hell but it was hot.
The two of them stared at each other for several long moments and when Logan was finally able to form a coherent thought—one that didn’t involve throwing Billie to the ground and licking every inch of her. He opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t have a chance to say anything.
Shane Gallagher strode into the room, way too full of energy and testosterone and what sounded like…glee. His friend crossed his arms in front of his chest, cocked his head to the side and his grin widened.
“Jesus H Christ, Billie, I thought we had an understanding? …Connor Forest?”
Chapter Thirteen
Saturday nights in New Waterford were, for the most part, pretty quiet. There wasn’t much to choose from—entertainment wise—and if a body was looking for excitement, a body would have to drive to the city, which was nearly twenty minutes away.
There was of course The Grill which had the best wings in town as well as the coldest beer. There was Marino’s, which had the tastiest pizza in the county. There was also the Iron Key, a fancy restaurant located in a renovated century home down on the water. It was the kind of place most folks couldn’t afford, and those that did only went a few times a year. Many wondered how the Iron Key stayed in business and the rest didn’t care. Who wanted to eat in a restaurant that served food you couldn’t even pronounce, and the servings barely fed a small child?
Call it fine dining if you wanted to, but for most of the residents of New Waterford, it was a bloody crime. Luckily, its cuisine was renowned, and a steady clientele from the city took the time to drive to New Waterford and kept the place busy.
Other than the odd wedding, anniversary, or the annual Hockey dance held to celebrate the local house league teams, there wasn’t much to do.
So, three years earlier, when Deidre Forest decided to organize a fundraiser for the community support center—one that catered to seniors, teens and adults in crisis—she took it upon herself to make it the event of the year. Deidre wasn’t used to doing anything halfway, and it was no surprise that the New Orleans inspired Mardi Gras theme that first year was a huge success. The following year she’d organized a country hoedown, complete with a mini rodeo, square-dancing, and some hot imported cowboys to boot.
This year, she’d delayed the event—usually been held in the spring—deciding Halloween would be great fun. There were events all day for the kids as well as a mid-way full of rides. But the main event—the masquerade dance—was adults only. It would boast both a silent auction, as well as a live auction. There would be dinner, music, and dancing. Anyone who was anybody—and could afford the 150 dollar ticket—would be there.
