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“What the…” Her voice trailed off as she gazed across the hall at the portrait resting against the wall.
Her throat tightened.
So did her chest.
So did her heart.
For several moments, there was only silence. Even Pia stopped barking as Bobbi gazed at an image of herself lying in bed, sheets a rumpled mess around her, hair all over the place, eyes half closed as she gazed outward. There was nothing scandalous about the scene. Nothing overtly sexual. The colors were subtle. The focus intentional.
The painting was about the expression on her face, the look in her eyes…
“Is that how you see me?” she whispered.
“Yes,” Shane said roughly, pulling her against him. “That’s exactly how I see you.”
“It’s…oh Shane, it’s beautiful,” she breathed. “It’s…I don’t even know what to say. Thank you.”
“Merry Christmas, babe,” Shane said softly, nipping at her nose, his hands sliding into her hair. “You don’t have to say anything.”
A heartbeat passed. Maybe two. And then a slow, wicked grin crossed Bobbi’s face. She moistened her lips and stood on her tiptoes so that she could reach Shane’s ear. There was one thing she wanted to say.
She pressed a kiss into his warm flesh and whispered. “Commando.”
“Commando,” he repeated, eyes darkening as he yanked his head back.
“Yeah,” she replied. “Commando.”
He answered with a growl and it was no surprise that Matt Hawkins was on his own for most of the morning. Nope. No surprise at all.
Chapter Six
Still two days before Christmas, on the other side of town…
Billie watched the group of hockey players as they did their dry land training, a critical eye moving over each and every one of them. The young men had been at it for over an hour and it was nearly time to call it quits. The last one, Thomas, was fooling around, and it struck her that he’d not finished his last lap around the facility. She yelled at him across the complex, earning a surprised look and an apology.
“Sorry, Billie.”
“Apologies don’t win games, Thomas. Talent alone doesn’t win games. Commitment. Focus. Heart. That’s what wins games.”
“Got it.”
“Good,” she replied. “Now give me twenty-five pushups and you can call it a day.” She motioned to the rest of the team. “You guys can hit the showers and good luck with your game Boxing Day. I can’t make it as I’ve got this family thing.”
“Hey, are we gonna get to meet Beau Simon or what?”
She folded her arms and shook her head. “Never mind about Beau Simon, Thomas. I said twenty-five pushups.”
Thomas muttered something under his breath, and it was probably a good thing that Billie couldn’t hear it. She nodded to the other guys. “Have a good Christmas and I’ll see you in the New Year.”
It was almost noon and she wanted nothing more than to lay her head down and catch some much needed sleep. Her son, Abel, was cutting a tooth—again—and he’d been a little bear these last few weeks. Subsequently, between helping out with her Gramps’ place, running her hockey training facility and dealing with a fussy baby, she’d hardly gotten any sleep.
As if that wasn’t enough to deal with, Logan’s shop was busy as ever. Sure, he pitched in with the regular stuff around the house as much as she did. Hell, probably more—Billie couldn’t remember the last time she’d cooked dinner. (Actually she was an awful cook so that might have more to do with it than anything else) But still, the last few days had been brutal and she was running on fumes.
She walked into her office and grabbed the last cup of coffee, twirling the ends of her hair as she took a moment to herself. A photo on her desk caught her attention and she set her cup down. Cradling the frame in her hand, she ran a finger over the image of the two guys who owned her heart.
Logan and Abel.
It was a candid shot taken when Abel had just started walking the previous summer. His small chubby hand was nestled in Logan’s large one, and the look on Logan’s face as he gazed down at his son brought tears to her eyes.
