Page 59 of The Puck Bunny

“That sounds final.”

“It is.”

Crap. “I understand.” I take a breath, but it doesn’t help. My voice is still shaky. “I hope your focus pays off, Quinn. I hope you score the winning goal in the seventh game of the Stanley Cup finals and you celebrate with your family, and your brother congratulates you with a big, heartfelt hug.”

There’s a beat of silence on his end and my heart beats fast—too fast.

“That’s a kind and beautiful thing to say, Sara. And so like you.” He clears his throat. “I wish you all the hockey tickets you can handle and one lucky young man to sweep you off your feet.”

“Thank you.” I make my voice as strong as possible.

“Good night, Sara Bellagamba. Have sweet dreams and a sweet life.”

* * *

Crying all night didn’t help, so I slather on some makeup and get into work early today, determined to make Quinn’s wish for me to come true. Billie Mae listened to my story last night and let me cry on her shoulder over the phone. She didn’t say one word about Bobby—her Mr. Mysterious.

But this morning, hiding behind my fake reading glasses, hunkered down in my cubicle, I’m determined to be a grown-up woman, not a pretender. It’s no wonder Quinn thinks I’m too young for him. A girl with a crush. Someone he almost, but didn’t take advantage of in spite of me throwing myself at him repeatedly.

Billie Mae stops at my cubicle before taking her coat off. “At least it’s Friday,” she says rubbing my back.

Delaney walks in and Billie Mae scurries to her cubicle.

“That’s right. It’s Friday and tomorrow is Saturday. And the gala. I want to make sure you’re prepared. It’s black-tie. Do you own evening gowns? Or forget that—dressy cocktail dresses? Maybe something with sparkle?” She’s looking between us, her hands on her hips.

“Of course. I have just the thing,” Billie Mae says. She grabs my arm. “For both of us.”

I can’t speak, but not because I truly have nothing to wear to this event, but because, somehow, I’d forgotten all about it. And all about the fact that I’ll be seeing Quinn there. Dressed up and the object of affection by every woman there. I wish I were exaggerating.

Delaney walks out of our cubicle space and I deflate.

“Don’t worry, Sara. I have several dresses that’ll look great on you.”

I Slump forward to take a minute to regather my spunk. When did I turn into such a wimp? Crap. I’ve always been a wimp when it comes to guys and social situations. And especially when it comes to Quinn James, apparently. I force myself to sit straight.

“That’s perfect. You’re a lifesaver. I’m… looking forward to the event.”

She pats my back again. “Sure you are.” She leans over and whispers, “If nothing else, we’ll make him drool. No reason you should be the only one out of sorts.”

I laugh and it feels good. Good enough to continue working right up until quitting time when my phone rings. At five past five. My coat is half on and I stare at the phone, willing it to stop ringing. But then a fit of conscience forces me to do the responsible thing and I pick it up.

“Brawlers Ticketing and Public Relations Office.” There’s a beat of dead air and I’m ready to hang up when a familiar voice shocks me.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Sheila the puck bunny says.

CHAPTER 19

SARA

“Sheila?” I squeak. It can’t be. “How did you get this number?”

She laughs. “Jonas gave it to me. I hope you don’t mind. I would have bet my mother’s house he was playing with me. So, you really do work for the Brawlers.”

“Yes, but I…” I lower my voice. “You have to keep it quiet. I could get into big trouble if—”

“No worries, sister. I know. No fraternizing with the players. I was calling to invite you to come out after the next home game. I promise to keep your secret.”

Crap. We finally earned our game ticket privileges and that’s the game Mom, Dad, Paul and even Bobby are going to. Billie Mae, too, of course. “I’m not sure. I—”