Offside (The Barker Triplets 1)

He cocked his head to the side and she saw his confusion, but it was as if he’d never heard her. “Chantal, when did you grow your hair?” He frowned and seemed to gather his thoughts. “Never mind, doesn’t matter. I’m looking through the local real estate. We’ll need a bigger house for when the babies come.”

Her heart cracked a little more.

His frown deepened and uncertainty rolled under his words. “Chantal, is that you?”

Billie nodded and moved deeper into his circle of light. “Yes, it’s me.” She sat down beside the father who didn’t know her and tried her best not to cry.

Chapter Three

“So what are we going to do about that damn Barker triplet?”

Logan Forest took a swig from his beer and set the bottle on the bar before turning to the group of men a few feet away. It was Friday night—Friday the 13th to be exact—and The Roadside Grill was hopping.

He’d had one hell of a day, the kind when nothing goes right and damned if he wanted to listen to a bunch of grown men act like the world was going to end because a girl wanted to play hockey in their league. Sure, he thought Billie-Jo was going to get a lot of grief, but hell, if she wanted that kind of trouble so be it.

He thought of the defiant gleam in her eye the weekend before and was pretty sure she’d be able to take it. Besides, she was sure to have the best legs on the ice and her hands were great, her stick handling legendary.

[i]Legs[i]. Hell, he’d be willing to bet she had the best legs in the entire county.

Little Billie-Jo Barker was all grown up and in all the right places, judging from the way she’d filled out those worn, faded jeans and T-shirt. With her long, glossy hair and dramatic eyes she looked more like a beauty queen instead of a rink rat. [i]More like her sister Betty-Jo[i].

For Logan, that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

He glanced up at Duke Everett. The owner of the Grill was pushing sixty, with a full head of snow white hair and an equally impressive handle-bar moustache to go with it. A former boxer turned wrestler, Duke had toured the States for many years on a dead end B circuit, until his body couldn’t take the punishment anymore. Fortunately, he’d met one of the Wilson sisters and had settled in New Waterford. They’d just celebrated their 20th wedding anniversary.

Duke glared at the men and threw a towel over his shoulder, his moustache twitching as his face settled into a frown. “Longwood is getting himself riled up but good.”

“He doesn’t seem to have anything better to do,” Logan agreed.

“Ain’t that the truth. He gets his paycheck and blows half of it in here every Friday night.” Duke shook his head. “I’m not complaining, mind you. He tosses a lot of cash my way, but that there is a man who will never amount to anything.”

“I can’t argue with you there.”

Duke’s brows furled and he shook his head. “I’m sick of hearing about your damn Friday night hockey league and some little bit of a girl who’s got half the town in an uproar. Hell, even my wife’s all bent out of shape over it.”

“What little bit of a girl you two talking about?”

Shane Gallagher slid onto the empty stool beside Logan and glanced up at the bartender. “Shit, Duke…you ever going to trim that thing?”

Logan didn’t know how tense he was until his muscles relaxed at that moment. He eyed Gallagher closely. His friend had bulked up quite a bit since Logan had last seen him, muscles stretched tight beneath his leather jacket. His hair, always long, was hacked off to just above his shoulders and the goatee added an air of danger. The thing was, Shane Gallagher didn’t need any help in the danger department. It kind of came naturally to him. He’d always been wild—a teenager who’d lived on the edge with no regard for safety. Shane’s family had never understood him and neither had half the town.

But Logan and he had bonded in first grade and had been best friends ever since. A world of circumstance and bad choices had separated the two men several years ago—Logan headed in one direction, going to college, while Shane took a sharp left turn that had led him to more trouble than he could handle.

And yet, somehow, he and Shane would always be buddies. Logan had his back and that was something that would never change. It might be a guy thing, but Logan had always found it easier to move forward than to keep your head stuck in the past.

This reunion was a long time coming.

Logan smiled and clapped Shane on the shoulder. “I wasn’t sure you were going to show.”

Shane cocked his head, and when once he’d have grinned with a hint of crazy in his eyes, he just shrugged. “It’s not like I had anywhere else to go.”

Duke cleared his throat and leaned forward. “It’s good to see you back, Shane. Hopefully this time you’ll stick around and stay out of trouble.”

“One can only hope,” Shane quipped, though his lips tightened.

Duke ran his fingers along his chin, ignoring the couple a few stools over gesturing for drinks and narrowed his eyes. “I’m serious, boy. Not too many folks get second chances. You best be making the most of yours.”

Logan watched his friend closely. He saw the anger in his eyes…the resentment, and those things he could deal with. It was the other that made him worry, the wooden tone in Shane’s voice and the cool, blank acceptance that accompanied it.