Page 115 of The Puck Bunny

Billie Mae looks at the black rubber-matted floor like it’s turned into a magic carpet, refusing to meet my eyes, but I don’t correct Delaney’s story about who broke off the engagement.

“Guilty,” I say with no need to elaborate.

She grunts. “About what I expected from Hollywood Hockey.” But it doesn’t hurt when she says it.

Billie Mae’s head snaps up. “Don’t call him that.”

“If the skate fits,” Delaney says, challenging me with her stare and an evil grin.

Why she’s bating me.

“It doesn’t fit.” Billie Mae comes to my defense which is odd after blaming the breakup on me. “He’s not Hollywood. He’s a decent guy.”

“Good girl. Make sure all the fans see it that way before it hits social media.” Before she blinks again, Delaney takes off in search of another victim with balls to bust.

“I’m sorry,” Billie Mae says. “My first allegiance is to Sara.”

“Of course,” I say. “How is she?”

She grins. “I knew it was only a matter of seconds before you’d ask. She’s great. Her new job is mega and she’s killing it in the salary department.”

“I’m glad. I hear she’s got a new apartment.”

She rolls her eyes. “I know. She told me you texted. Let me guess who has a big mouth—Jonas?”

I nod and grin. “Don’t hold it against him. He has a big heart, too, underneath it all.”

“If you say so.” She squints at me. “You are a decent guy, aren’t you? Sticking up for a guy like Jonas, making him a better person.”

“Not me. It was Sara who convinced him he had a conscience.”

Billie Mae nods. “Right. So, you’re such a loyal guy you wouldn’t rat out a girl if she let it slip that Sara was moving on Friday, right?” Then she mutters the address and my mind manages to catch it like a steel trap because I know a lifeline when I see one.

* * *

Paul and Bobby are at the apartment and we almost get into a fight, but Sara stops it.

I back off, then walk back to my car. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

She follows me. “I know. Those two lugs I have for brothers don’t speak for me—and I say thank you. I appreciate that you showed up for me today.”

Trying to control the puffing-up of my chest because I don’t want to get ahead of myself, ahead of her all over again, I nod. “Good luck in your new apartment. Call me when you’re ready to see me.”

She waits two days to call me.

“I want to see you.”

“How about for dinner after the Saturday matinee game.” I hold my breath.

“Your place?”

“I’d have dinner on the moon if you wanted.”

I cook, but we let dinner get cold. Neither of us are hungry.

“Are you ready to date me?” I ask her as I hold her in my arms, tangled in the sheets.

She laughs. “Okay. We can move beyond the hook-up stage to dating.”