He kept his distance, but something in his stance changed, making him seem bigger than the team stats that listed him at six feet, three inches and two-hundred-and-thirty-eight pounds. “What was your name again?” he asked, his voice dropping to a lower register than before. “Felicia?”
“That’s my sister.”
Fallon couldn’t believe it. He was trying to intimidate her. Maybe even trying to get her to leave again. She knew the signs. She’d grown up around men who couldn’t actually express what they were feeling if someone tried to beat it out of them with a baseball bat. The Irish weren’t exactly known for being in touch with and wanting to talk about their emotional wants and needs.
“Faith?” he asked.
“That’s my other sister.”
Sure, there were only a limited number of common names that started with F, but the fact that he’d nailed two of her sisters’ names while he was supposedly trying to remember hers? Yeah, she wasn’t falling for it.
He shifted, the move making the plaid blanket gap open just enough to show off a broad swatch of his ink-covered, muscular chest and the sparkle of the light hitting the silver ring through his right nipple. “Fiona?”
It took everything she had not to crack a smile.“That’s sister number three.”
“There are four girls in your family?” As if he didn’t know. He must have gotten at least some background information about her from Lucy before he agreed to let Lucy ask her to come over. “Plus three brothers?”
“Yeah.” She nodded, not letting herself react outwardly at all to his little display. “And I’m Fallon. Fallon Hartigan.”
He glowered at her in silence, his eyes so dark they were practically black as they zeroed in on her as if he could scare her. That wasn’t going to happen. One, she got more attitude from her pediatric patients than this. Two, Lucy trusted the guy, and Fallon trusted Lucy. Three, she was a Hartigan, and they didn’t back down from anything.
Finally, he spoke. “I’ve got a game tomorrow. I’m taking a nap.”
And without so much as even a mumbled thank-you for giving up her weekend to be his nurse, he turned and walked out of the kitchen and down a dark hallway. Most hated man in Harbor City? Yeah, she could corroborate that.
Food poisoning or not, Zach Blackburn was one prime, grade-A asshole. She glanced down at the basket of muffins and grinned. Fallon wouldn’t have been surprised if the puck bunny had tried to poison the prick on purpose—God knew she was tempted right about now.
Instead, she took out her phone.
Fallon: He’ll live, and you owe me. Big time.
Lucy: Going that well, huh?
Fallon: What did you tell him about me?
Lucy: Just that you’re my bestie, Frankie’s sister, maybe some family stuff, and that you’re an awesome nurse. The basics.
Fallon: That’s a lot.
Lucy: He doesn’t trust a lot of folks. He needed background. He has his reasons, promise you won’t let him get to you.
Fallon: I can promise not to kill him but that’s about as much as you’ll get from me. He’s the most obnoxious man I’ve ever met, and I work with doctors who think they’re god—not a god but the actual big guy himself.
Lucy: Just give Zach a chance. You’ll love him.
Yeah, that was so not going to happen—not even in a parallel universe.