Page 60 of The Puck Bunny

“Don’t tell me you have a date with Hollywood Hockey? Girl, you go.”

“Please don’t call him that. No, I don’t. I wish. How’s Mindy doing?”

“Jonas is hot and cold with her. Now that her baby bump is showing, she convinced him to take the paternity test before he left for the road trip. The results will be in on Friday and she’s meeting to talk to him after the game because he doesn’t want to see her alone. Guess he thinks he needs witnesses.”

“That’s so crazy. If you think she needs moral support—”

“The truth is, she needs you to play his conscience. You make him feel guilty. Having you there might help him make the right decision.”

“Okay. I’ll be there.” I squeeze my eyes shut against the image of my mother’s wagging finger of disapproval like she’s my conscience. I must take after her.

Before I let that horrifying thought set in, I switch to worrying about logistics. I’ll need to disappear after the game. How the heck am I supposed to transform from Sara Bellagamba to Lola before I get to The Tea Party without anyone knowing about it?

“You’re the bomb. I know you’re busy. You have a big shot career with the Brawlers, not waitressing at a diner like me and Mindy.”

“Who me? You’re kidding, right? If you’re trying to say I’m too good to be hanging out with you guys, then you couldn’t be more off base. My mom is a waitress and I… work in a cubicle crunching data. It’s a boring job that pays next to nothing.”

“Really? I thought you went to college—the way you talk.”

I laugh. “The way I talk is like I need a strong dose of cool.”

“So, what about you and Hollywood Hockey—I mean, Quinn?”

“What about us?”

“What’s going on? I could swear he’s got a thing for you the way he eyed you.”

“Umm…”

She laughs. “I’ll see you at The Tea Party after the game next Friday.”

CHAPTER 20

QUINN

As soon as I get off the plane at Logan airport, I take a minute to thank the gods that I’m back on the East Coast where I belong. Even after living on the West Coast for ten years and being absorbed into the culture, I’d still felt like I was on another planet, especially when we played in L.A. and the media had made a big fuss over my so-called return home.

Home had never felt so far away. Moving east and joining the Brawlers was the best decision I’ve ever made. Now I need to follow through on the rest of the promise to myself and play hockey undistracted by anything. Especially women. Especially one particular woman named Sara.

Calling her that first night had been a mistake. I’d thought we could be friends, but that was stupid. And I have no excuse—and no idea what compelled me to slip.

Whatever the fuck my thing is for her, I need to shut it down and keep it shut down. For both our good. I don’t need to get her into trouble—or, heaven forbid, break her heart—and I do have something to prove to my team and my family. Most of all, to myself.

There’s a lot of baggage in me that needs unpacking before I’m fit for anything else but focusing on hockey and family.

Hefting my actual baggage over my shoulder, I book it to my car, waving to the guys. All I’m focused on now is crashing at home in my new bed to sleep for a century.

* * *

Sitting in the locker room taking my time undressing after practice, I can’t believe it’s only Thursday. It’s been a tough week. I worked my ass off in practice and the result was one fucking assist in Tuesday’s return home game. Damn discouraging and I need to do better because I’m working hard at limiting distractions. It takes everything I have to ignore Sara. Responding to her texts with one word feels mean, but I warned her and we agreed, didn’t we?

Who am I kidding? She’s too young and vulnerable for flirting with the likes of me. I’d be a heel to take advantage of her. I led her on and I need to fix that—somehow without encouraging her further.

Problem is, anytime I engage with her, even in a normal polite friendly way, I get derailed. Why? My subconscious is begging me for a distraction, that’s why. Now my conscience has gotten in on the action.. I give myself a mental slap. It’s time I dealt with my issues straight on.

Coach peeks his head in the door and looks straight at me. “James—in my office as soon as you’re dressed.”

That doesn’t sound good. “Yes, Coach.”