Tomboy (The Hartigans #3)(15)

Fallon: Good that makes things easier.

The text bubble with its blinking three dots appeared and disappeared several times before his next message finally came through.

Zach: Are you always this bitchy or is it just me?

Wow. If she wasn’t used to being called difficult, bossy, bitchy, a nag, or just a general pain in the ass—which, to some degree, she admitted she was—then his question just might have hurt. Instead, it hit more like a mosquito bite than a bee sting.

Fallon: Some of the latter but definitely more of the former. I have a reputation to uphold. I’m the Wicked Bitch of the ER.

Zach: That doesn’t bother you?

Truth? Sometimes. A weight settled onto her chest, one that she’d learned to live with long ago. She wasn’t about to bend or change her ways just because her personality made other people uncomfortable.

Fallon: As if I’d worry about what a snot-nosed resident said—especially after he said I had to be a bitter dried-up cat lady since I wouldn’t go out with him.

Zach: Are you?

She looked around her room in the bungalow she shared. It used to be Frankie’s room, before he moved in with Lucy. There were still boxes stacked in the corner, because this living arrangement was only temporary, but there weren’t any kitties.

Fallon: No, I just don’t go in for the girlie-girl shit and some assholes see that as an affront to themselves personally.

Zach: People are assholes.

That made her snort-laugh as the invisible rock sitting on her chest shrank.

Fallon: True. Story.

Zach: So what’s the harm in calling in sick to be at the game?

Fallon: Because there are actual lives on the line. Gotta go. Long day tomorrow and no pre-game naps for me.

The text bubble appeared and disappeared a few times again as she got under the covers.

Zach: Night

Fallon put her phone on the nightstand and turned off the lamp. And as she snuggled down into her pillow, she realized she was smiling. Obviously because she was glad to finally be getting some shut-eye during which a certain Ice Knights player would not be making a dream appearance. Her subconscious wouldn’t do her like that.





Chapter Six


Heeeeeeeeeeeeee’s Back…Unfortunately

For a minute, we had a glimpse of the Zach Blackburn that could be. One who sacrificed for his team. One who stopped the puck, set up plays, and delivered the big checks. Last night, the only quality hit the defenseman delivered was one to Harbor City hockey fans that left their collective hope for a winning season bleeding out on the ice.

Harsh? Yeah.

True? You bet your butt.

Last night, against the most-hated Rage, Blackburn biffed it. Big time. He missed checks. He made bad passes. He took dumb penalties. It was the trifecta of rookie mistakes. But Blackburn isn’t a rookie. He’s an overpaid disappointment—one who seemed more concerned with two empty seats up against the glass than the puck moving down the ice.

According to the whispers, the tickets to those two coveted seats Blackburn was obsessed with, the ones he looked at before almost every play? They were left at will call for Fallon H. and friend. Name doesn’t ring a bell? You’re not alone. However, my well-placed sources tell me that you might know her better as Lady Luck. Yep, that’s right, hockey fans—Lady Luck ditched Blackburn.

Last night’s dismal outing is exactly what we can look forward to for the rest of the season unless Blackburn can figure out a way to make it work without Lady Luck. Because if he doesn’t? That’s when we start a GoFundMe to buy out his contract just for the pleasure of banishing him from town.





Chapter Seven


There were few things worse than participating in a hard, blades-on-the-ice practice with a monster hangover; however, getting tag teamed at nine in the morning after a loss via video chat with his agent, Kyle Harrison, and Lucy topped it. The two of them managed to snipe at each other almost as much as they offered up advice to keep him from fucking up his career any more than it already was.

“Zach baby,” Kyle said, not a bead of sweat on his forehead as he jogged on the treadmill in some expensive, elite gym somewhere on the city’s east side. “You have got to do whatever it takes to turn things around or the Ice Knights’ front office is going to run you out of town.”

“You don’t think I tried?” Zach shoved his hands through his hair, trying to keep it out of his face after another night of sleeping like shit thanks to the gut-gnawing dread eating away at his stomach lining.

“What did you do in the Kodiaks game that was different than before?” Lucy asked before taking a sip of her Mountain Dew, even though it didn’t look like the sun was all the way up yet where she was in Missouri.

What was different? A bunch of shit he didn’t know how to put into words, so he went with the same thing he’d told Coach. “I used the white tape.”

“So you need more?” Kyle asked, his words coming out quick like an overeager puppy. “I can send Mikey down to the store. I’ll send him all over town to get you the brand you want.”

“Holy shit, Kyle. Calm the fuck down.” Lucy rolled her eyes. “You’re worse than Gussie.”

“Who’s Gussie?” Kyle asked.

Lucy looked right at the camera and deadpanned. “My dad’s dog that tries to hump everything.”