Page 95 of The Puck Bunny

“Like maybe she’s trying to get rid of you,” she says quietly.

“Rid of me? Why? I work my butt off—”

“Well not you, necessarily, but I overheard someone in personnel say they needed to trim the staff in our office.”

“Crap. I swear to God, Billie Mae, I’ll quit and you won’t need to worry—”

“I’m not worried. Dad will pick up the slack in an emergency. Besides, you’re right about this job. It sucks—except for the game tickets.” She grabs me by the shoulders as someone comes into the ladies’ room and pulls me outside to the corridor.

“That doesn’t solve your dilemma with Quinn. You can’t continue this non-relationship with him. He’s using you.”

“No, he’s not. I almost wish he was, then it would be easy to forget about him.” I let out a sigh because I know what his problem is. “He’s confused. Overwhelmed really. He has too much unpacked baggage and too many important things to focus on. I’m one more thing—a monkey wrench in his already too full plate.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about—”

“I can’t tell you because it’s confidential.”

“No problem, but if it has anything to do with the princess and her aborted pregnancy—”

“What?” For a split second, her words vacuum my brain and I get dizzy. Then my avenger instinct kicks in like a tsunami. “Where did you get that rumor? There was no aborted pregnancy.” I feel a little nauseous because I know the answer.

“Social media. I was working on burying the rumor because it’s too close to home—and by home, I mean our man Quinn.”

“She’s behind the rumor.”

“The thought crossed my mind.” She clamps her mouth shut and looks at her wrist as if she’s wearing a watch, which she isn’t.

“You’re not telling me something. What is it?”

She huffs. “The gossip implies that Quinn forced her into the abortion.”

Stumbling back against the wall, I can’t imagine how the rumor would hit Quinn if he found out.

“How far has this gotten?”

“Not far. Only a few hundred views on Twitter.”

“Twitter?”

She shrugs. “No one said the princess was a master at social media. I’ve reported the tweets and called the source disreputable—not with the official Brawlers account. It hasn’t caught on yet.”

“It will if we don’t do something big to counter it. This kind of crap goes viral all the time, especially if the mainstream media gets hold of it.”

“What do you suggest?”

“A juicier story—one that she won’t like.”

* * *

Thanksgiving day Billie Mae comes to my house for dinner because she said she couldn’t get a flight home. I know, and so does everyone else at the table, that it’s because she wants to spend time with Bobby. He’s the only one pretending there’s nothing between them, the jerk. I’m just glad she’s here because I’m all nerves about tomorrow’s wedding as if it were my own.

Plus, I have more work to do on the Princess Matter. That’s what Billie Mae and I are calling it. She’s handed everything over to me because she still has mixed feelings about Quinn. But since she detests the princess, she’s on his side.

From the minute Billie Mae walks in the door, she looks for my big brother Bobby and doesn’t take her eyes off him. At the dinner table, we sit on either side of her and he soaks up all her attention like butter. It’s cute. In a disgusting way.

Thanksgiving dinner includes the usual turkey, plus antipasto and a pasta course. I help Mom serve the food as is tradition, while the boys do their best to eat it all. Also tradition.

“See what a good wife you would make some lucky man?” Grandma Zanetti says. “What about that handsome hockey guy who had his arm around you? Any progress with him?”