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“I’m not sure they’re going to let you in,” she said softly, her gaze running up and down his body. “You’re not wearing a hockey jersey and,” she leaned toward him whispering, “In case you didn’t know it’s a hockey shirt dance.” The smile that rested on her lips was devastating. Funny how it never made it to her eyes.

The woman was one hell of an actor.

And there was that pout again as she purred. “Even I found this old thing to wear.”

Shane’s eyes had already moved beyond Betty. He wasn’t in the mood for her games. “You should put some clothes on Bets. Don’t want to be giving any of the old geezers here a heart attack.”

He found Bobbi almost at once and damn if his heart didn’t take off like a rocket. She was near the entrance to the main room, her lithe figure dressed in old, faded denim—the kind that clung to curves—the kind that he liked. She wore a Flyers jersey, but it was obviously meant for a child because it fit her like a glove and damn, it wasn’t right that number 28 and Giroux were plastered to her back like she belonged to him.

Betty followed his gaze and said softly, “You’re going to have to fight for her you know.”

Shane whipped his head back to Betty and for the first time all the teasing and pouting was gone. Her eyes were clear, her gaze direct. “If you don’t you’re an idiot.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Matt, let’s get out of here.”

Hawkins came running like a puppy after a treat, his scowl gone, replaced with a possessive glint that made Shane roll his eyes. Christ, if the guy thought he actually had a hold on Betty Jo Barker he was sadly mistaken.

Betty turned without another word and led her new pet out of the community center. She bent over near the door to fix something on her boot and Frank Talbot’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. The elderly man shook his head and cleared his throat so loudly that several people glanced over.

Shane shook his head and sighed. The girl was just as dangerous as Bobbi in that damn skirt. There was no underwear beneath the leather, and after patting Mr. Talbot on the cheeks she turned, winked at Shane, and disappeared into the night.

Shane had that one moment to turn and leave. To go home and forget about everything except the bottle of J.D that was sitting on the counter in his kitchen.

But then the band erupted into a raucous version of a Stones classic, Sympathy for the Devil, and he glanced up sharply, his eyes on Bobbi. His heart was still pounding. His body already aching to touch her.

She was chatting with Jason Danvers and something ugly erupted inside him. He took a step forward and then halted.

Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name.

He should leave. Get the hell out.

Bobbi Jo Barker, The Rolling Stones, and Shane Gallagher, was not a combination to be messed with.

But then she bit her bottom lip as she gazed up at Jason and that ugliness inside him darkened and grew until it stretched tightly across his shoulders. He shouldn’t care about Bobbi or who she talked to and yet…

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear her fingers straying to that spot—his spot—and with a curse he strode toward her.

Fuck it. He was going in.

Chapter Fourteen

Was Jason Danvers ever going to shut up? Christ he was as bad as his older brother, Derek.

“You look great in that Flyers jersey, Bobbi.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled trying to look around him. She was wound as tight as a top, had been ever since she’d arrived at the dance. She had no idea if Shane would show and the not knowing was driving her crazy. She’d asked Billie a hundred times—at least—but her sister had just shrugged and said she didn’t know.

“Though I think you’d look a lot hotter in my jersey.”

“Really,” she said absently, glancing back up at Danvers. Wait. What? The guy was handsome—he was a lot handsome—but she didn’t give a crap what he thought about her choice of clothing tonight and she sure as hell had no desire to wear his clothes.

Jason leaned forward to say something and she took a step back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear just as Ike’s band dove into a cover of Sympathy for the Devil.

Oh God, really? She gave herself a mental shake and focused on Danvers lips. He was saying something.

“—you and I maybe could get out of here?”

“Excuse me, what?”

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