Page 26 of The Puck Bunny

“Didn’t they just throw us out?” he asks.

“You have a point.”

He smiles and this time it’s a deep, meaningful moment where I know exactly what he’s thinking. He’s remembering when he said those exact words to me. I smile back, for once warm and no bothered by blushing or overstimulated ovaries.

“Don’t worry about them,” he says like he knows I’m still worried because I am. “They’re big kids; they’ll be fine.”

And just like that, he sweeps away my worry and my tummy moves like it’s made of jelly.

The cabbie rolls down his window and is about to say something until he recognizes Quinn. I can see the exact moment of recognition because his face turns from a deep scowl—the kind that precedes a string of swearing—to a surprised smile.

Quinn waves and helps me inside ahead of him.

We sit side-by-side and I’m light-headed from either his nearness or the tequila. Also, there’s that heady sense of feeling taken care of because he’s seeing me home. His nearness is having a warm-and- fuzzy effect on my brain. But, most of all, there’s the idea that I just may be able to score my goal, to get my big O with the man of my dreams tonight.

“What’s your address?” he asks.

Crap. I can’t let him bring me to my house. The one where my parents and brother live… So I give him Billie Mae’s address and the cab takes off. Thank God I have the key to her place. Double thanks to heaven and every god that ever lived that she’s out with her latest Tinder date. I want to pray that she stays out all night, but I won’t push my luck. If I get him inside, I’ll try and make it quick. Çrap. I don’t have a clue how to do this. Maybe I should have another drink to loosen me up.

I hope Billie Mae doesn’t kill me.

“Where do you live?” I ask.

“Presently, at the Boston Harbor Hotel, but I’m looking to buy a house not too far from the city.”

“Smart. You’ll have more space and a yard in the suburbs. Do you have a dog?”

“Not yet. I’m thinking seriously of getting one. You?”

“Yes—I mean no.” Crap. I can’t tell him I have a dog if I’m pretending to live at Billie Mae’s tiny dogless apartment. “I mean I used to. Before I moved to Boston.”

“You from New Hampshire? Because I have this feeling I’ve met you before.”

“No. Not me. We’ve never met. Believe me, I would remember, right?” I try a laugh, but we’re both saved from exploring why I look familiar when the cabbie pulls to the curb at Billie Mae’s building. My hand shakes as he helps me from the cab and tells the driver to wait.

Crap.

“Don’t you want to come in? I mean I know you’re tired and all…” We’re standing at the door and I’m trying not to hiccup, trying to keep from shaking like a maraca being played by a maniac. Staring into his kind and sexy eyes could go either way, either excite me more or settle me down. I concentrate on the kindness and settle down as he stares back, his dimple faint, his warmth penetrating my coat with his nearness, and his intoxicating scent mesmerizing me. He’s taking his time with his answer and I lean closer in case he wants encouragement.

“I don’t think I should.” He sighs.

But his dimple gets bigger, so I don’t collapse with disappointment. “Why is that?”

“Because I find you far too attractive to not spend the night and… I’m trying to stay focused on hockey.”

“You were going to say you’re trying to stay out of trouble, weren’t you? As if I’m trouble?”

“No, it’s not you. It’s the circumstances.”

“And by circumstances, you mean a wild night in bed with all the fireworks?” I put on the most enticing smile I can imagine and wish I had practiced in front of a mirror because I have no idea how to entice or smile enticingly.

But he steps back.

Then coughs.

But I think he may be hiding a laugh, so I frown.

“No, those aren’t exactly the circumstances I meant.” Then he mirrors my frown. “Not exactly, but maybe indirectly. Either way, it’s not about you… Hell I don’t even know your name—and that’s the kind of circumstances I’m talking about. Getting in bed with a woman whose name I don’t know is trouble. I need to stop doing that.”