It was also the one connection to a painful past he wasn’t ready to let go of. The one thing his father hated the most. The one thing Shane shared with a mother who was long gone from this earth.
The parking lot at the community center was full. Actually, it was more than full. There were trucks and cars parked on the curb, straddling the sidewalk and a few had dared to park on old man MacEachern’s front lawn.
Shane had found one of the last legit parking spots, though he’d been sitting in his truck for at least half an hour, while he stared into space and wondered why the hell he’d agreed to meet up with his team.
The Hockey Shirt dance was a fundraiser for the local kid’s teams and while it had grown in popularity over the last decade or so, he’d never been part of the crowd that flocked to it year after year. It was an excuse to drink, dance and party, while sporting either your kid’s hockey shirt, or the team you rooted for.
It wasn’t his thing, but because Billie was involved this year, Logan had offered up their men’s team to help out at the event. The Angry Pirates were on duty and he’d agreed to come the night before. It had been after their game and too many beers to count.
Shane scowled, pissed that he had let Logan and Billie rope him into this.
The Hockey Shirt dance was in full swing. Loud music drifted outside as the doors opened and closed behind those coming and going. Overhead the stark, cold moon shone down upon crisp, crunchy snow. It was cold as hell with a brisk northern wind rattling along the frozen ground.
A loud rap on the window had him jumping and Shane swore as he glared out at the faces of a few of his teammates. Pete Tortolini’s goofy grin told him the goalie had already been into the sauce and their teammate Mike wasn’t far behind.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” he said and watched the pair trek across the parking lot and disappear inside the building.
Was Bobbi inside?
His gut clenched at the thought of her and even though he’d been the one to lay the ground rules the week before—the one who’d insisted their ‘reunion’ was only for one night—he was still more than a little pissed that she’d dismissed him so readily. It burned his ass just thinking about waking up and finding her already gone.
But then, had he really expected anything more? Did he want anything more?
“Fuck,” he muttered, undecided on what to do as his gaze settled on a few new arrivals. He sat straighter in his seat when he realized that the tall blond man walking toward the community center was Gerald Dooley and he wasn’t alone. His arm was across the back of Logan’s ex-girlfriend Sabrina Fairfax.
Since when was Dooley interested in sports?
Since when was Sabrina interested in anyone other than Logan?
He watched the couple pause near the entrance, Dooley digging through his pockets for something, Sabrina’s stance suggesting she was impatient, or irritated. Finally, Dooley found whatever the hell it was he’d been looking for and the two continued on inside.
Obviously the man had moved on and quickly. He wondered what Bobbi’s reaction was going to be. Would she be hurt? Relieved? Pissed off?
Was she even inside?
The ugliness that had simmered beneath the surface all week rose to the fore and before Shane could stop himself he was out the door and striding toward the community center. Restless energy thrummed inside his chest and he wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for.
But as he pushed open the door and was hit with a wall of heat, music, the smell of beer and jostling bodies, he was pretty damn sure he was going to find it.
He’d barely taken two steps when he heard his name.
“Shane Gallagher. Wow.”
He turned and spied Betty Jo Barker leaning against the wall with Matt Hawkins hanging off her as if she was the fucking bee’s knees. The foyer was full of people—those waiting to get inside the main room where the band was playing up a storm and those wanting a bit of quiet.
Betty and Matt however, seemed to be on the prowl for attention. She was half dressed and he was half in the bag.
A stranger would have one hell of a time distinguishing the three girls. But he’d known them a long time and Betty was different than Billie and Bobbi. She was a sex kitten on steroids. It wasn’t anything tangible really, just a certain way she tilted her head. The direct look in her eyes when she wanted your attention, or the way her mouth seemed to pout no matter what she did.
He knew her modeling career had stalled and though Shane wasn’t privy to the details, he knew a fuck up when he saw one.
She licked her lips, a practiced routine for sure, and shoved Matt to the side. Hawkins swore and glared at Shane as Betty walked toward him, her narrow hips sheathed in the shortest leather skirt he’d seen since…well, since Bobbi used
to tease the hell out of him in that little black number she used to wear.
For Hawkins sake, he hoped at least this triplet was in the habit of wearing underwear or the guy was in for it.
The little New York Rangers Jersey she wore was cut off mid drift and the thigh high boots had her in the running for sexiest puck bunny ever. If he remembered correctly she’d dated one of the Rangers a few years back.