Page 90 of The Puck Bunny

I try not to pee my pants, kicking myself for that second cup of coffee.

CHAPTER 27

SARA

My heart races and I finally gather in the crazy thoughts zipping around in my head. “Hi. Hello.” Why the heck is she calling me here? It can’t be an issue with Quinn’s tickets.

“I hope you don’t mind that I tracked you down at the office, but I didn’t have your cell phone number. We can correct that problem now, can’t we? Quinn is, of course, too busy for me to bother him with details now that he’s focused on hockey.”

“He played great last night. Two goals,” I say, glad to have something positive to say to his mother besides Did you know your son broke my foolish heart? That’s unfair since it was all my fault. I threw myself at him. Repeatedly. He tried to tell me no, but I, the ridiculous optimist, refused to believe that he… what? Doesn’t have a heart? Wouldn’t sweep me into his vortex and make me fall for him so hard? Wouldn’t get past my crush and become so much more to me?

“Will you be driving up with Quinn for our dinner? We’re so looking forward to having you.”

He hasn’t told her yet. Crap. Well, duh, when did he have the chance?

“No, I don’t think so…” I try to stall and stay neutral because this is not a conversation I’m prepared to have. I have no idea what to say, what she thinks there is between me and Quinn, or what Quinn has told her about me.

“Well, I’ll have to call him and make sure he doesn’t make you drive up on your own. That would be silly and wasteful.”

“Yes, you should definitely call him.” Please. He said he’d take care of it, and she’s his mom, not mine.

“If you talk to him first, tell him dinner is at two and I said you should drive up together. And tell him to call me. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I can’t wait to see you again, Sara.”

I think she actually means it. “Okay.”

“I’ll let you get back to work. Bye now.”

“Bye.” I slam the phone down and jump from my seat like a cherry bomb went off under my butt.

“What is it?” Billie Mae rushes over to me and even Margaret looks at me, concerned.

“Nothing.” What a ridiculous lie that no one believes.

Billie Mae takes fast-walks me to the rest room.

I stare in the mirror while she rubs my back and I suck in a breath. What am I looking at here? A big baby. I straighten.

“That was Mrs. James – Quinn’s mom. She said I should ride with Quinn to their house the day after Thanksgiving.”

Billie Mae snorts. “Oh, that’s all? I thought your doctor called to say you were dying of cancer.” I elbow her, but I agree; it shouldn’t be a big deal.

“I can’t help it sometimes. I’m hypersensitive when it comes to Quinn. He’s… I’m…” I don’t know what to say that won’t sound ridiculous, so I wave a hand. “I fell for him, you know, because he’s a good person on top of the fact that he’s fun and funny and sweet and gorgeous—”

“Let’s not forget that he’s a walking aphrodisiac.”

I elbow her again, but this time I laugh. “Truth?” I say. “That’s the least of why I fell for him. I think it’s because, deep down, I connect with him.” I don’t mention that he’s a lost soul, looking to fit back in with his family like some prodigal son because that’s something he told me in confidence. And I don’t tell her how much pain he’s in and how I empathize and how he believes in me and is so supportive of who I am and loves my quirks.

“I’m sure he’s a wicked nice guy when he’s not taking advantage of vulnerable young women,” she says, hands on her hips now. “Get over him. And get over his mother.”

Wistfulness whispers by and I let it go like a pesky mosquito. But the buzz remains underneath everything, giving me that uncomfortable anticipation of a bite. for the rest of the day.

For the rest of the week and all the way until the Monday before Thanksgiving, I limp around metaphorically with the buzz of anticipating some kind of bite, something bad besides not seeing or hearing from Quinn. Not even a text.

In the void of Quinn-related stimuli, I should feel calm and settle down back to my old routine before we’d met that night in the bar, but I can’t make it happen. He’s playing well, better than ever—he’s on a scoring streak that more than makes up for his slump.