Tomboy (The Hartigans #3)(18)

“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 being 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.”