by Avery Flynn
And now he was stuck.
Sucking up the fuck-me-ness of the moment, he pivoted back toward the door and did his best to try to smile back at the woman. “Hi.”
“Oh, wait until Frank sees you.” She clapped, looked back over her shoulder, and hollered, “Honey, come here.” Then she turned back to him. “He has so many suggestions that will really help you during the next game.”
Any doubt that he’d accidentally knocked on the wrong door went straight out the window. “You must be Fallon’s mom.”
“I’m her younger sister.”
Zach’s brain froze. There was no way this woman was Fallon’s younger sister. He had no idea what to do, so he just stood there and blinked as if he’d gotten dinked in the head by a puck.
That’s when she threw back her head and let out a gusty laugh. “Oh God, that look was the best. Of course, I’m her mother.” She held out her hand. “Kate Hartigan.”
On automatic pilot, he shook her hand as he tried to regain his mental footing. “Is Fallon here? Lucy said she should be.”
Kate’s eyebrows went up practically to her hairline. “She should be but she’s late as usual.” She shook her head in obvious maternal frustration. “I tell you that girl is burning her candle at both ends, and it’s going to catch up with her.”
She looked at him as if he had any idea what she was talking about, as if he knew any more about Fallon. It was too much. Too familiar. Too friendly. For the love of Gretzky, he had to get the fuck out of here. Lucy had been right about the Hartigans, they were more than he could handle.
“Can I leave her a message?” he asked.
“There’s no need for that, just come on in.” Kate stepped to the side, making space for him to walk inside. “She’ll be here in a minute.”
His palms got sweaty at the idea of sitting on the Hartigans’ couch and listening to hockey advice from Frank (whoever that was) while Kate treated him like he actually had a non-selfish reason to be there. “I’m not sure—”
“Speak of my daughter,” Kate said, waving at someone behind him. “There she is.”
Thank Gordie Howe.
He turned around and couldn’t do anything more than stare. Fallon was in jeans, a T-shirt, and Converse high-tops, cruising up the driveway on a skateboard. Her long brown hair was down, and she was smiling so big, her dimples were on display—right up until she spotted him in the shadows of the front porch and her lips flattened.
Ouch.
She stopped and did some step-off kick move that sent her skateboard into the air, where she caught it without ever taking her eyes off of him. “What are you doing here?”
“Good Lord,” Kate muttered. “You’d think I never taught you any manners.”
Manners? He didn’t give two shits about that. He wanted to win, and everyone’s idiotic idea had finally burrowed into his subconscious deep enough to start to make sense in some weird way.
“We need to talk,” he said, standing straighter, prepped for battle.
She all but rolled her eyes. “About what?”
“The other night.”
A commotion at the door yanked his attention away from her and the random thought wondering how he’d missed seeing those dimples before. Three men crowded in the doorway next to Kate—a dark-haired giant, a gray-haired guy who looked like he could still do some damage in an octagon, and a third guy who was wearing a Waterbury PD T-shirt and a shitty expression on his face.
“What do you mean ‘the other night’?” the giant asked.
“Oh, settle down,” Fallon said, walking up the short sidewalk leading from the drive to the front porch. “It’s not medieval Ireland, and you don’t have to guard my virtue—not that that ship didn’t sail years ago.”
The gray-haired brawler gasped. “Fallon Eileen Hartigan—”
“Oh, stop sputtering, Frank,” Kate said, the words coming out with an exaggerated huff. “Like you were a virgin when we got married.”
“Mom!” That exclamation came in three-part harmony from Fallon and the two dark-haired men in the doorway.
“What?” Kate shrugged her shoulders. “Your father and I have enjoyed a very healthy and satisfying sex life for almost as long as we’ve known each other.”
The guy in the police department shirt covered his face with his hand and let out a groan. “But we don’t want to know about it.”
“Relax, Ford.” Fallon stepped onto the porch, coming to a stop not exactly in between Zach and the Hartigans at the door but pretty damn close to it. “She’s just trying to distract you.”
“From what?”
“From him.” Fallon tipped her chin toward Zach.
This was where Zach needed to interrupt, to put his idea to her and convince her to say yes. Too bad he was too discombobulated to make sense of the scene in front of him.
“And relax, Hartigan Testosterone Committee.” Fallon made a little shuffle move that blocked at least half of him from the horde in the doorway. “All I did the other night with this one, as a favor to Lucy, was make sure he didn’t crack his skull when he puked his guts up from food poisoning.”
The reminder of his former miserable state was enough to bring his brain back online, right in time for him to have the realization that she was—in her own way—protecting him from her family. What the hell? He didn’t scare that easy.
Ego pricked, he ignored the audience and faced Fallon. “Can we talk?”
“Come in and you two can talk while we get lunch on the table,” Kate said. “You are staying, there’s plenty of room. I made my special Hawaiian ham—we call it that because it has a pineapple sauce. There. It’s all decided. You can put out the plates while Fallon takes care of the napkins.”
“I’m not sure…” That was not what he’d signed up for. This was supposed to be easy—negotiate a deal with his Lady Luck and leave. At no time did he want to sit down and eat pineapples and pig with a family of pushy strangers.
Fallon took one look at her mother and shook her head before starting into the house, skateboard tucked under one arm. “You might as well come in, there’s no getting away now.”
She didn’t bother to wait for him. Neither did any of the other Hartigans. They just followed Kate deeper into the house, leaving the front door open as if there was no question that Zach wouldn’t walk away. What he wouldn’t give to prove Fallon and the rest of her family wrong. That would have to happen another day, though, because today, he had a job to do.
Walking across the threshold, there was no doubt in his mind that he was in way over his head. However, if he made it through an on-ice brawl that had left him with one less tooth in his head, he could make it through lunch with the Hartigans.
…
Zach Blackburn was in her mom’s kitchen putting plates down as if he never imagined so many people could squeeze around one table. Fallon almost felt sorry for him. Today would be a light showing, what with Lucy and Frankie off getting engaged while Hudson and Felicia were in Italy visiting Hudson’s mom and her husband.
“Why are you here?” she hiss-whispered, as if there was a hope in heaven all of the ears in the living room weren’t straining to hear what was going on in the kitchen.
Zach put down the last of nine plates around the oval table already loaded down with potato salad, Caesar salad, hot rolls, green beans, Hawaiian ham, and more. “We need to talk.”
“So do it.”
He looked around the kitchen. The sound of a football game filtered in from the living room, and her mom was in the walk-in pantry and prep area making lemonade.
“Now?” he asked.
If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he had never experienced the rough and tumble of being a part of a big group—like a hockey team—but instead went it all alone.
She grinned at him, enjoying not his discomfort but the fact that the most-hated man in Harbor City, who was feared on the ice even when he wasn’t playing his best, was knocked totally off his game by be
ing in her parents’ house. Now this was his comeuppance for getting her face splashed in the tabloids.
Of course, even she wasn’t going to enjoy his discomfort long-term. “It’s only going to get more chaotic.”
He crossed his arms over his chest—hello, nurse—and glared at her. That was okay. She was too mesmerized by the view of his sinewy forearms and the width of his fingers—really, she should not be thinking about that—to remember that he was the one who was supposed to be feeling uncomfortable. Instead, she was the one remembering the silver bars in his nipples and the ridges and valleys of his abs. Good Lord. She needed a cold shower, or she was going to down the entire pitcher of lemonade her mom was making.
Zach squared his stance as if preparing for a blow. “I need you to come to the next game.”
“Why?” She placed a hand on her hip, lifted an eyebrow, and gave him the stare that made adults admit how that one thing got stuck in that one awkward spot which led their emergency room visit.
“It’s an experiment.” He grimaced and shoved back the flop of hair that had fallen over his pierced eyebrow. “Lucy suggested it.”
That woman. Fallon loved Lucy like a good pair of arch-supporting clogs, but she could kill her right about now. Annoyance crept up her back, tightening the space between her shoulder blades. It sure would have been nice if her bestie had bothered to give her a heads-up before Fallon skated up to her parents’ house to find Zach hanging out on the front porch.
Taking a deep breath, she prodded. “Details are your friend.”
“She suggested—and my agent agreed—that if you come to the game, and I still play like shit, then we know you aren’t my Lady Luck.” The words came out fast, as if he couldn’t believe he was saying them, either.
Before she could say anything, as if her shocked brain could come up with a response right then, her mom came out of the pantry, hollered out that the food was ready, and everyone thundered in from the living room.
There might have been four people fewer than normal at the weekly family lunch, but you’d never know it from the volume level. The family saying went that there were the black Irish, the red Irish, and the so-obstinate-and-rebellious-they-got-kicked-off-the-island Irish. The Hartigans were all three wrapped up into one loud, rowdy family that were never—not a single moment of the day—out of one another’s business. It was fucking exhausting.
Her sisters Fiona and Faith strolled in with Ford’s wife Gina, talking about how the home renovations were going for her Victorian that had been under construction since she’d met Ford. Ford came in a few steps behind, looking at his wife as if she just might be the greatest thing to ever happen to him—which she totally was. Finn strode in with their dad, Frank, both arguing in hushed tones—for them, anyway—which meant one thing; they were talking about her.
Great.
As soon as the prayer was said and the food started being passed around, the interrogation began. The questions came hard and fast. When did you know you wanted to play hockey? How did it feel to put that hit on Anton? Who’s the weirdest guy in the league? How do you like Harbor City? He responded with pat answers that sounded like he was being interviewed by a sports reporter hanging out rink-side.
“How did you meet?” Fiona asked, throwing out the first personal question.
Zach’s body tensed, and his grip on his fork tightened. “Lucy.”
For once, the Hartigans were silent, waiting for him to go on. He just sat next to her and stared at his plate. It could come off as rude. Hell, it probably did to her family, but unlike her they couldn’t see the way his knee was going up and down a million miles an hour. Zach Blackburn might be a pain in her ass, but he was a seriously freaked-out pain in her ass. Probably nothing about being a professional hockey player had prepped him for the absolutely-no-boundaries attitude of her family.
It got her in the feels just enough to stop her from sharing how he’d gotten food poisoning from tainted muffins baked by a Rage fan.
“We met after Frankie and Lucy had their big blowup at Ford and Gina’s engagement party,” she said. “He was taking care of Lucy until Tess, Gina, and I could show up.”
Her dad grumbled something to himself and then jabbed his empty fork in the air toward Zach. “And how does that explain the pictures that were all over the place of you outside his house?”
“Frank,” her mom said with an exasperated sigh. “We talked about this. You’re to give your daughter a little bit of privacy.”
“That was a misunderstanding.” Zach’s knee went into hyperdrive. “I should have reached out to Lucy to kill the story sooner.”
When her dad still didn’t look satisfied, she girded up to deflect some of the attention away from Zach before he put a dent in their floor from his leg jiggling. “I didn’t have a sleepover, well, not like everyone is saying.” Okay, that was amazingly delicate for her, but her parents were in the room and it wasn’t like she could just burst out with I didn’t fuck him. “He needed help, Lucy reached out, and I did her a favor.”
Zach stabbed his fork into a piece of ham on his plate. “I was sick.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” Faith said, sounding exactly like the trusting kindergarten teacher she was. “Are you better now?”
“Yes, I’m watching what I eat.”
Of course, he meant tainted muffins, but no one but her knew that. It took everything she had not to laugh out loud when Faith’s gaze went to the huge amount of food piled on his plate and then back up at him, her blue eyes wide and surprised. That was probably, because except for these dinners, Faith spent most of her time with five-year-olds whose caloric intake was far less than that of a professional athlete.
He must have realized how much food he had on his plate because he grinned at her sister. “No more sweets.”
Across the table, Fiona snort-giggled. “Then Fallon’s just perfect for you.”
Some people might haven been offended. Fallon just embraced the truth of it. There was absolutely nothing sweet about her. Still, she sure as hell wasn’t perfect for Zach Blackburn.
“That seems to be the general opinion.” Zach’s knee stopped bouncing. “Lucy, my agent, and Coach Peppers have bought into that BS from The Biscuit and think she’s my Lady Luck.”
Everyone at the table turned their attention to Fallon, pinning her down with so many curious looks she could almost hear their questions before the words even made it out of their mouths.
“My first game after I got sick was the Kodiaks game,” Zach said.
Everyone at the table nodded their heads. Being rabid Ice Knights fans, they didn’t need more explanation of how that game had gone and how he’d played like a dream.
“Then, I left tickets for Fallon for the Rage game and she couldn’t come.”
Again, all the Hartigans nodded in understanding.
“And now you’ve got the Thunder coming up on Monday.” Her dad gave Zach an understanding smile and then sent her a pleading look. “You have to go. It’s for the team.”
Nope. That was not going to happen. “This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“You don’t believe in the luck of the Irish?” her mom asked.
Okay, she’d seen too many patients who recovered when they shouldn’t have not to believe that there was something out there, but that wasn’t the same thing as a hockey player’s desperate attempt to latch onto some silly idea. “I don’t believe that I’m some kind of Lady Luck.”
“But if it works, you could help change everything for the team. We need you,” Gina pleaded, as if her name was on the lineup.
It wasn’t that Fallon didn’t think of her own fandom that way, too, but the last thing she wanted was to add one more responsibility to her plate. She loved the Ice Knights, but when she could catch a game live it was in her PJs, with her eyes barely open after a long shift in the ER and probably another volunteering at the clinic. Wait a minute. She swore the room got a little brighter in that moment be
cause the mother of all lightbulbs just went off above her head.
Pivoting in her seat, she turned to Zach and smiled. There was no missing his worried gulp of anxiety. Smart guy.
“I have one condition.”
He nodded. “I’m listening.”
“You make an appearance at a charity carnival fundraiser for the Beacon All Access Clinic. Take pictures. Sign autographs. Try not to growl at the small children.”
“Oh, that’s a wonderful idea, Fallon,” her mom said. “Of course he will. That’s a no-brainer.”
Since being volun-told was pretty much part of the Hartigan family code, she was used to it. Going by the about-to-get-run-down-by-a-Mack-truck look on Zach’s face, he wasn’t.
“Will you?” she asked.
He looked like he’d just swallowed battery acid. “I don’t do those.”
“Oh, you should,” Faith said, pouring herself another glass of lemonade. “Giving back to the community that supports you is important.”
He lifted his pierced eyebrow. “I’m the most-hated man in Harbor City, remember?”
“That’ll just make you a bigger draw,” her sister responded.
Gina piped up with, “Maybe we should add a dunk tank.”
“That’s a great idea.” Finn nodded enthusiastically. “I’d pay to send him swimming.”
After watching him play for years, she’d seen him move and spin with the best of them out on the ice. When the man was really playing, he was pretty awe-inspiring. The Hartigan dinner table wasn’t the Ice Knights arena, though, and he had no hope of getting away—not if he wanted her at that game.
“So what do you say,” she asked. “I show up to the Thunder game tomorrow night to test out your theory and you help raise money for the clinic.”
“Fine,” he said, sounding anything but happy about it.
“You won’t regret it.”
Neither would the people who needed the clinic for their regular healthcare. This fundraiser really would make a difference for them with all of the grant funding falling through.
However, looking around at the expectant faces of her family, she got a sinking feeling that it might not be a good plan for her. If anyone else found out about this little Lady Luck arrangement, the entire city would be looking at her like her family was right now, as if she really could possibly make a difference in how Zach played and improve the Ice Knights’ playoff hopes.