Tomboy

“Part of the job.” One that he’d feel even more in the morning.

She dropped her hand to her lap, clasping it in the other with a white-knuckled grip as if she didn’t trust what she’d do if she didn’t hold on so damn tight. “Do you like it?”

“Getting banged up?” Maybe if it meant she’d be the one applying the bandages.

“Your job.”

“I used to love it.” More than running at full blast in the winter morning air, more than staying up for a full night of sex, more than breathing.

“And now?” Fallon looked at him as if she really wanted to know, not because it could move her closer to some goal, but because she just wanted to know.

Zach had no idea how to answer. People didn’t ask him these kinds of questions. They just assumed—and he let them. But not Fallon.

As if she realized there was more to this than just another question, she reached out again, placing her palm over his heart. A soft pink flush colored her cheeks as she tugged her bottom lip between her teeth.

The room went still around them, caught on the edge of something else, something more.

A hot hunger burned its way up his body as the urge to kiss her moved from being a hint of an idea to a full-fledged want. It was fueled by the post-game adrenaline rush he always got and the added oomph of worrying about her. That’s all it could be. Still, he couldn’t stop imagining the taste of the Chapstick on her full lips, the heat of her body pressed up against his, and the silky smoothness of her hair beneath his fingers. Her hand slid upward, curving around the back of his neck as her eyelids lowered.

The office door banged open.

“Oh my God, there are reporters everywhere.”

Jolted back to reality, Fallon let her hand slip away from him as Zach spun around. Tess stood in the doorway double-fisting hot cocoa. Fucking A. What in the hell had he been thinking? He hadn’t. Again. And that was the problem. Fallon wasn’t just any woman. She was Lady Luck. No one—himself most definitely included—should be fucking with her.

“Oh,” Tess said, face turning blotchy and red. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t,” he said, his voice gruff, as he walked to the door. “Let me know if you change your mind about an escort home.”

“I’ll be okay,” Fallon said.

Of course she would. People like her always would. They stayed aware. They watched out. They were surrounded by family who had weekly lunches together and friends who brought hot cocoa to fix whatever ailed them. And how about you, Blackburn? What do you got?

A Lady Luck who he needed to make sure to protect from the assholes of the world—including himself. The very last thing either of them needed was for him to lose sight of what mattered.

He came back from the brink of career implosion once after everything with his parents blew up in his face—if not in public, thank God. The league didn’t give third chances. This was it for him. He couldn’t forget that.

Chapter Nine

Ice Knights Get A Win, Lady Luck Gets A Knockout

Real talk, ladies. We’ve all been there. Some guy seems to be pretending to be nice, but he’s not. He’s trying to correct us, intimidate us, get us to go along so we’re not seen as being a bitch. It’s bullshit, and last night, Zach Blackburn’s Lady Luck did a solid for all of us and knocked that supposed Mr. Nice Guy the hell out.

Yeah. Yeah. I know, this is a hockey blog and, yes, we are going to talk about the puck, but the above had to get mentioned.

So let’s talk hockey. Last night’s game against the Thunder was one for the books. Everyone came out and did their part, from goalie Chris Quartz, who blocked sixty-three of the sixty-four shots on goal, to forward Alex Christensen, who not only took an ugly hit but scored the game-winning goal. And you know we have to talk about defenseman Zach Blackburn. With Lady Luck in the front row, he had one helluva game, setting up the winning goal and showing the Thunder that our team wouldn’t be disrespected with cheap checks.

So what’s next for the Ice Knights? A short break and then a four-game road trip out west. I doubt I’ll be the only one on the edge of her seat waiting to see what our boys do next.

Comments:

Mr. Knight: I come here for hockey news not to hear about no makeup wearing, he-woman man-haters who punch out people who just want to talk.

Josh C.: He-women? Man haters? No makeup? Really man? WTF.

BringHomeTheCup: No shit. I’m sure LL is really worried about what you think of her lack of makeup.

Josh C.: More like he should be worried about her right hook if he ever makes a dumb-ass statement to her face.