Tomboy (The Hartigans #3)(33)

Someone was feeling vulnerable. She could understand. Exposing her soft underbelly wasn’t exactly her bag of chips, either. So instead of pointing out to the most-hated man in Harbor City that he shouldn’t be embarrassed about doing something nice, she focused on the act itself.

“You give hockey lessons?”

His expression warmed a whole three degrees. “The kid’s actually really good. He’s got a scholarship to some private high school in the city, and I have him down to our practice rink every month to watch practice and then we skate around. The chances of a high school player ever getting drafted are low, but if someone takes a chance on him, they’ll end up with a solid defenseman.”

She didn’t know how to process this. Zach’s shitty attitude about any charitable work was well-documented in the tabloids—right along with his dating history and latest on-or off-ice brawl. His refusal to do pre-season appearances or interviews when he first arrived in town was the thing that saddled him with the most-hated man moniker in the first place. Losing only made it stick. But giving a kid hockey lessons? Yeah, that was totally unexpected. So she fumbled around for a response, because staring at him with a blank expression wasn’t going to cut it.

“You’re not going soft on me, are you?” she asked and immediately wanted to take back the words.

Way to sound like a real bitch, Fallon.

He laughed and patted his belly. “Only around the middle during the off season.”

“Was that a joke?” she asked, holding her hands to each of her cheeks and letting her jaw drop in a melodramatic expression of shock. “Did the most-hated man in Harbor City make a joke?”

He shrugged and shot her the bird. “It occasionally happens.”

They were both chuckling when Mama came back with chips, salsa, and the best guacamole Fallon had ever had in her life. Seriously. It was like an avocado and heaven had a baby. She was half tempted to lick the bowl after they ran out of chips but managed to stop herself. It was one of her harder-fought battles. Thankfully, that was when a waiter came by with another basket of homemade tortilla chips. For a while, the only thing that could be heard at the table was the crunch of chips.

“There is magic in this,” she said, relaxing against the seat, the back of her head resting against Zach’s forearm.

A sizzle of awareness went through her at even that simple touch, making her entire body take notice. It had officially been too long if just touching the back of her head to a dude’s forearm did this to her.

Of course, this wasn’t just any guy, it was Zach Blackburn, he of the serious arm porn, abs-o-rific torso, and the chin dimple that she kept dreaming about kissing. What in the hell was wrong with her? The guacamole had short-circuited her brain. It was the only explanation for why she hadn’t lifted her head so she wasn’t touching him anymore.

“Agreed. It’s totally magical,” he agreed as he scraped the last of the guacamole onto a broken chip and held it out within an inch of her mouth. “You want?”

“Was this part of your negotiating plan?” she asked, her lungs tightening as anticipation swirled around inside her, making her nipples pucker.

His gaze dropped to her already parted lips, and he sucked in a breath. “Definitely.”

Sure, maybe she could blame the whole-body bliss on perfect guacamole, but the truth was she didn’t think, she just reacted, opening her mouth and letting him feed her. He didn’t just shove the half chip in her mouth or hold it out, teasing her, though. Instead, he gave her exactly what she wanted and needed at the moment. And the gentle slide of his thumb to swipe up the dot of guac that had landed on the corner of her mouth? It sent a frisson of awareness skittering across her every nerve ending.

Flavor exploded on her tongue at the same time as the rest of her body woke up and said hello to the ill-advised possibilities of touching Zach. Food had always been just delicious fuel to her. She’d never understood the sensuality of it until that moment when it hit her like a bullet vibe pressed right to her clit. It felt right and wrong and oh-so-fucking fantastic.

Luckily, Mama saved her from her own mutinous self by leading a parade of waiters back to their table with a billion and a half plates of food. There were chimichangas, enchiladas, rice, beans, and so much more. Even better? Every single bite tasted amazing.

“What’s it gonna take to get you to agree to be at the home games?” Zach asked between bites.

“Don’t forget you want me to call before away games also.” She was blaming the totally divine verde sauce for making her forget that they were on opposite sides of this negotiation.

He nodded, sending his hair falling forward into his eyes. “Yeah, that, too.”

This morning she’d woken up with absolutely every intention of never seeing Zach Blackburn again after the clinic fundraiser unless he was on her TV. She wasn’t his Lady Luck. She was just a nurse with an attitude. Then he’d fed her the best Mexican food there could ever be, told her he gave a high school kid hockey lessons, and he’d stayed at the fundraiser signing autographs and taking pictures long past when she thought he’d be gone.

Fuck. You are such a sucker at heart, girl.

She should tell him thank you and no right now before she ended up in way over her head. There was something about seeing him with his guard down like this that made her think there was more to him than the asshole everyone saw in the tabloids. Don’t go there. Be strong. Saying no was the smart move. It was exactly what she was going to end this little internal battle of the oh yes with—the smart answer of fuck no.