She laughed, the sound a relief after the tension in her voice before. “Whatever, Zach.”
He paced a circle around the island, psyching himself up for what came next. There was pretty much nothing in the world he hated more than relying on someone else, but there was no getting around it. He needed Fallon.
“That brings us back to our negotiation.”
“Does it?” she asked.
“Yep.” He nodded as if she could see him. “So what’s your counteroffer?”
“No.”
He stopped dead in his tracks. That wasn’t how this went. He gave an option, she gave an option, and they kept going back and forth until they met somewhere in the middle. It was a negotiation. That was how these things worked. She had to give him something to work with. There were rules, playbooks, and game plans.
“That’s your counter?” he asked, incredulous. “No?”
“You got it.”
He could just picture the self-satisfied look on her face while she wore his hoodie and nothing else. Wait. Where had that last bit come from? He didn’t care what she was wearing—or not wearing. It didn’t matter.
“That’s not fair.” And that was the lamest of responses, but his brain was seriously fumbling for a way to respond after the mental image of his sweatshirt stopping just below her bare upper thighs.
Fallon snorted in his ear. “Neither is life.”
Shoving aside the picture of her walking with long strides so the hoodie moved higher with each step, he forced his brain back to the negotiation at hand. She may have thrown him for a loop with her “no” response, but this was hockey, and until the buzzer went off there was always a way to make a play happen. He just had to figure out which way to deke.
“I’ll have my counteroffer tomorrow at the fundraiser,” he said, resuming his circles around the kitchen island. “I even promise to be nice while I’m there.”
“You better, the clinic needs the funds badly. You’ve got to smile and everything.”
He didn’t bother to try to bite back his groan—he was, after all, the most-hated man in Harbor City. There was no way he wouldn’t end up with at least fifty people telling him he sucked. “This is going to be painful.”
“Just remember Baby Shark.”
“You’re evil.” That song had been in his head the entire first period last night.
“Don’t I know it,” she said with an exaggerated mwahahahaha laugh. “Night, Zach.”
“Night, Fallon.”
He hit the end call button, a smile on his lips, but a nugget of dread in his belly. He had to persuade her to keep being Lady Luck. Sure, it sounded dumb even when he didn’t say it out loud, but he couldn’t argue with the results.
With Fallon, he played like he did in the beginning—like it was all just for fun.
That’s what had made the difference.
Once he got her to agree, he’d make sure security kept an eye out for her at the arena, and he’d get with Kyle’s assistant to put a stop to the shitty social media posts. Lucy would see the things he’d missed, and he’d make sure those things were covered, too. There was a way to make this work for him and for Fallon. Maybe he could get the other guys on the team to make an appearance at the clinic during the next fundraiser. God knew everyone in Harbor City loved forward Cole Phillips—and for good reason. That guy was going to end up in the Hall of Fame someday.
He was still pondering when his phone vibrated with a notification. Since the whole Reese’s Pieces vs Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups debacle, he’d started to keep a closer watch on his social media.
Notification: Get Zach’s Lady Luck’s Effortless Style
He clicked. It was a story from the High Heeled Wonder, a local Harbor City fashion blogger, detailing Fallon’s outfit at the game last night with buy links for her jeans and shoes. That started him off on a rabbit hole of posts about his Lady Luck. Yeah, some of the comments were super critical, but the vast majority of them were supportive. Someone had already started a #TeamZuck (Zach + Lady Luck) Instagram account. That was weird, but just maybe there was a way to use all this fan energy.
The idea hit him like a high stick to the orbital bone. It was a high risk, high payoff play. But knowing Fallon’s snarky, take-no-prisoners sense of humor, she’d find the whole thing hysterical. Without giving himself a second to overthink his plan, he turned on the camera to do a live Instagram video and clicked start.
“Hey all! I just want to say thank you for your support of the Ice Knights and let you know that tomorrow I’ll be at the Beacon All Access Clinic in Waterbury for a meet and greet carnival fundraiser to help raise money for this amazing clinic. Come on by, hang out with me, and help the clinic meet its fundraising goal.”
And if he had any non-Lady Luck mojo, this would put him in the perfect position to score when it came to finishing the negotiations tomorrow.