Page 55 of The Puck Bunny

I nod

“Good.”

“Can I bring a guest?” Billie Mae asks.

OMG, is she crazy?

Delaney delivers her most withering stare. “You aren’t attending as guests, Ms. Stoddard. This isn’t a party for you. This is a job.”

“When is the event?” I ask.

* * *

Later that night, I can’t turn down the invitation to watch the Brawlers game with my family and have to admit it’s fun to share the hockey excitement with them. We then watch the post-game show and their company helps keep my nerves calm because anticipating Quinn’s promised call tonight has me on edge. I have no idea what to expect.

Fidgeting with my phone, I’m ready to escape to my room, so I get up.

“Where are you going? They’re about to interview the coach,” Mom says.

Crap. I always watch those interviews—mostly because I’m waiting for a glimpse of Quinn, hoping to see him, to see that dimple. But, tonight, I want to be anywhere but here with my family when he calls.

If he calls.

“Can’t a girl go… get a drink of water?” What the heck kind of lame excuse is that? They all look at me like they know I’m hiding something.

“What’s up with you?” Paul says. He gets excited and uses his taunting voice. “You’re hiding something, aren’t you? It has to do with Quinn James, doesn’t it?”

“What insanity are you talking about?” I toss back, well-practiced at defending taunts from my brother.

“Be quiet, the both of you,” Mom says. “Why would she have anything to do with that old man?” she asks Paul. But before he can answer, while I’m turning blue holding my breath, she shushes him. “Quiet. The coach is on.” She rivets her eyes to the TV and Dad smiles—who knows why?

I use the distraction to leave the room. It was a close call, but Mom’s words have a calming effect on me. Not because I suddenly agree with her that Quinn is an old man—i.e., too old for me—but because she’s right that he’s not an immature inexperienced boy like Jonas, who doesn’t have any appreciation for how women feel. If he says he’s going to call, he’ll call.

Turning on the TV in my room, I change into my sexiest night gown, which is actually the top to a pair of pajamas that I misplaced the bottoms to. So what if it’s sprinkled with kittens? It shows my legs which are my best attribute.

Throwing myself onto my bed, I shake my head at my absurdity. It’s not like he’s going to facetime me. But if he does, I’m damn well going to be ready.

CHAPTER 18

SARA

When the phone finally rings, I rouse myself from that half-asleep stage where the day dreams are fading into dream-dreams and this one was a good one. By the second ring, I’m alert enough to scramble in my sheets for the phone. Picking it up with shaky hands, I clear my throat and put on a smile. Dad always told me that, if you smile, a person can hear it even if they can’t see it.

“Hello there.” My heart beats too fast and I reason with the panic that I’m too young to have a heart attack.

“Hello there,” he says, a sexy gravel to his voice, made thicker because my imagination is on overdrive, thanks to the remnants of that dream. I want to ask him when he got such a sexy voice, but my natural reserve rebels in horror at the idea. Way to go with the flirting. “Did you catch the game?”

“Of course. Congratulations on the win.” I don’t mention the fact that he was in the penalty box when Vancouver tied the game on the power play with five minutes left in the game. And then he wasn’t on the ice in the final seconds when O’Rourke scored the winning goal.

He snorts. “No thanks to me. O’Rourke bailed us out.”

“That’s why they call it a team sport.” I wish I could be more encouraging, but he didn’t have a great game and I’m a tinge worried about it.

“No need to sugarcoat it, sweetheart. I sucked tonight. But you’re right, it’s a team sport and I’ll bail the team out on another night. Enough about hockey. Tell me about you. What are you wearing?”

Boom.

Even if I’m not much at playing the game, I know a flirty line when I hear one. My heart almost stops and I touch a hand to my chest as it doubles down, pattering all over the place.