Muffin Top

Frankie grimaced, no doubt still holding a grudge for the almost-playoffs a few years ago. “That guy—”

“Is about to be a part of your family.” She slapped her hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Shit. She was not supposed to say anything yet.

“What are you talking about?” Frankie asked, ruffling Trey’s hair as the toddler continued to bang on the glass and wave at the exiting players.

“Well,” she said, calling up all her work skills to smooth over her snafu. “He’s basically my family, so that makes him your family.”

Frankie lifted an eyebrow and snorted in disbelief. “That’s not what you said. What do you know?”

Shit. For someone who made her living snuffing out crisis after crisis, she sure was good at creating her own. Time to think fast. Good thing she had just the bit of news to distract him.

“So does that mean you’re against naming the baby after the former Most Hated Man In Harbor City?”

His jaw dropped. “Baby?”

She nodded, her hand automatically going to her belly as her heart fluttered. This wasn’t exactly how she’d planned on letting him know, but when had anything gone as expected when it came to Frankie Hartigan? No matter what she dreamed up, reality was always better than she’d imagined.

Frankie let out a yell loud enough to gain the attention of a bunch of screaming hockey fans, scooped up Trey, and pulled her in for a family hug. “I love you so much that we can name the baby whatever you want.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” she said, blinking away her tears of joy.

He brushed a kiss against her forehead. “Whatever makes you happy.”

“That’s easy. You make me happy.” She looked down at Trey’s smile, then back up at her husband’s beaming face, and couldn’t imagine it was possible to feel any better than she did right now at this moment with her family. “We make me happy. You really do know how to deliver a happily ever after.”

“Only with you, Lucy,” he said. “Only with you.”

…

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Chapter One

Every part of Zach Blackburn ached as if an oversized green muscle man had plucked him up from the sidewalk and smashed him against one of Harbor City’s skyscrapers.

Some of the biggest names in professional hockey had threatened to tear the defenseman’s head off—several of them were even justified in doing so. Then there were the fans. The last poll of Harbor City Ice Knights fans had his approval rating at 3 percent. There were bloodthirsty dictators who ranked higher than that. And the media? They’d circled him like vultures waiting to pick the meat off his bones as soon as he’d signed his contract, reporting his every move and mistake.

But it hadn’t been any of those who’d made him wish for death. Nope, that had happened thanks to food poisoning from God knew what.

Sitting up in bed hurt his tortured gut enough that he couldn’t bite back his groan. At least no one was around to overhear it.

“Welcome back to the land of the living.” A distinctive alto reminding him of brass knuckles wrapped in silk filtered into the room from the doorway. “You’re not going to throw up on my shoes again, are you?”

Shit.

She was here. Of course she was—his own personal demon nurse.

Fallon Hartigan had arrived last night—at the insistence of his PR manager Lucy Kavanagh—right in time to watch him puke like a high schooler after their first taste of peach schnapps. And, yeah, some of it had landed on her. Even he wasn’t a big enough jerk to not feel bad about that.

She’d been sent by Lucy Kavanagh, his PR savior and friend—well, as much of one as someone like him could have. Zach had argued he didn’t need any help. That argument probably would have worked better if he hadn’t made an offering to the porcelain gods without hanging up on Lucy first. Since Lucy was out of town, she’d called in the queen of mean who happened to be one of her best friends and an emergency room nurse.

“Go away,” he grumbled, shoving his hands through his hair, pushing back the part that flopped over his forehead and got in his eyes.

“Not gonna happen,” she said, taking a few steps inside his bedroom. “I promised Lucy I’d stay until I was sure you were on the mend.”

“And last night was such a good time you wanted to stay here for more? That’s your idea of fun?” It looked like it just might be. Nothing about her, from her no-nonsense braid to her oversized T and joggers combo, screamed party girl, puck bunny, or anything else close to the women he’d found himself surrounded by since it became apparent he was designated for hockey’s big time.