Tomboy (The Hartigans #3)(2)

Many of them still ended up in St. Vincent’s ER because they couldn’t afford preventative care or early treatment that would have kept a minor injury from developing into a major problem, which was exactly what the clinic offered—when it had the supplies. She loved both her jobs—paid and unpaid—but, man, she was exhausted from burning her candle at both ends.

So a whole weekend off? That was better than chocolate, a trashy reality TV marathon, and a fresh-batteries-in-the-vibrator orgasm all combined.

And sadly, now it wasn’t going to happen.

Why? Because she had awesome friends for whom she’d do just about anything, even if they were giant pains in her tired-as-hell ass.

Letting out a sigh and mentally calling herself every bad word she could think of, Fallon turned the key in the ignition and said, “Give me the address.”

…

If he was going to die, Zach Blackburn wanted to do it alone.

The angry-looking chick on the other side of the security gate that led to the house the Ice Knights had rented for him had other ideas.

Sweating like he’d just gotten off the ice after a triple overtime game in the finals, he lowered himself into his desk chair and flicked the switch for the speaker at the gate. “Go away.”

The woman in blue scrubs with her hair pulled back into a long braid didn’t even flinch. She flicked a tired gaze up to the security camera. “No.”

He let out a groan that made his tender gut twitch. “Why the fuck not?”

“Lucy sent me,” she said.

Shit.

Lucy was his PR savior and sorta friend—as much of one as someone like him could have. She’d threatened to send a nurse to make sure he didn’t die. He said he didn’t need one, that he could take care of himself, as always. Then, like an asshole, he’d puked his guts up with her still on the phone.

He knew she’d send help, and that’s how he’d ended up watching his security system app for the first sign of any do-gooder who showed up—so he could send them away immediately.

He didn’t have to guess about the identity of the woman glaring at him through the CCTV.

Fallon Hartigan. He’d met her once a few months back when he’d gotten bamboozled into being Lucy’s shoulder to cry on after she’d had a fight with her boyfriend. Fallon had been part of the trio of women who’d relieved him of that very awkward duty. He couldn’t remember the names or much about the other two. But Fallon? Yeah, he’d had a fantasy or three about that long braid of hers and seeing her fuck-you expression turn into something more along the lines of fuck-me-harder.

Not that he’d done a thing about it that night. He’d been too damn glad Fallon and her friends had shown up. He loved Lucy like a sister, but tears weren’t his thing. Really, feelings weren’t his thing. Of course, up until the ass-crack of dawn this morning, getting so sick he actually called for help was not his thing, either.

Still. Just because he would have maybe sorta been okay with Lucy helping him didn’t mean he was good with having someone else in his space. He needed to get rid of Fallon. Quick. And the best way to do that? Hip check to the ego.

“How do I know she sent you? You could be a stalker fan,” he said, the words sounding more like a croak than a harsh accusation, since his belly picked that moment to deke and swerve.

“I’m Fallon Hartigan. We’ve met before.” Fallon lifted her arms, the move showing off the shapeless blue scrubs she was wearing. “Anyway, do I look like I’m a puck bunny here to try to bang you into playing like you’re worth the payout the Ice Knights gave you?”

No, she didn’t. But even if she had looked like the minidress-wearing hottie he’d booted out this morning before he got sick, he was too close to death’s door to appreciate the view. “Go away. I’d rather die in here on my own than have to deal with a pain in the ass like you.”

“Really? That’s what you’re going with? Oh, hold on.” She started digging through her backpack. “Here it is.” She lifted her empty hand out of the bag and held it palm up, looking down at it with a sweet smile as if she was holding something of astronomical cuteness. “That’s all the fucks I give about what you want.” Her gaze snapped back up to the security camera placed outside of his gate. Her big blue eyes narrowed. “Lucy wants me to take care of you while you get over your slight case of the man-flu, and I told her I would, so that’s what I’m doing. Now, let me in.”

Something in his gut bubbled and cramped, causing beads of sweat to pop out along his forehead. Want had nothing to do with it, he needed to get her away from here.

Obviously taking his silence as a no, Fallon pulled out her phone and started to dial.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling Lucy so she can cut her vacation short to come babysit your whiny ass, since you won’t let me in.”

He gripped the armrests of his office chair and sent up a prayer to whoever was listening to just please, please, let him get through the next sixty seconds.

“Or,” Fallon said, an evil gleam visible in her eyes even on the shitty security monitor. “Are you gonna let me in?”

An icy wave washed over him, the kind that meant the fates were sending a big fuck-you on the no-more-throwing-up thing. “I don’t want to.”

Fallon snorted. “Welcome to the real world, where we rarely, if ever, get what we want.”