Page 27 of Not the Puck Bunny

She clinked her bottle against mine and laughed. “You know that wasn't what I meant, right?”

I grinned. “I know, but I figured you weren't going to stand up and clap at the TV.”

She raised her eyebrows, then placed her beer down in front of her. With a flourish, she stood, briefly applauded in the direction of the screen, then sat back down.

“I think that's the first time I've seen anyone golf clap to a hockey game,” I remarked. “Usually people cheer and throw teddy bears.”

“I'm sure they throw their panties at you too,” she said.

“Jealous?” I teased.

She snorted like a cute little pig. Her eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “I'm not jealous,” she said from behind her fingers. “Why would I be jealous? People can throw whatever they like at you. Within reason. We wouldn'twant our star winger getting injured by somebody's falling G-string.”

The only thought I had in my mind at those words was her shimmying out of a dark red G-string and flinging it at me. Right before she lay back on my bed and spread her luscious thighs. I should definitely not have another beer, it was starting to go to my head, and my groin.

“For the record, no one throws their panties at me,” I said evenly. “They throw them all at Nate. I think he collects them.” He probably had a drawer overflowing with them. Puck only knew what he did with them. Frankly, I didn't want to know.

I didn't admit that some were aimed at me. Not literally panties, but longing looks and flirtation. I ignored all of it. That was a tangle I didn't want to get dragged back into. Not after the last time.

“What do you collect?” she asked.

That was a good question, what did I collect? Nothing much, apart from a bitter ex or two. Maybe chips on my shoulders.

“I never really found anything I wanted to collect,” I said finally. My gaze lingered on her before I managed to turn my attention back to the game.

“Now this bit was controversial?—"

Chapter Eleven

Andi

“How nice ofyou to join us.” Quentin Welling looked down his long nose at me.

I slipped into the seat between him and my mother. “Nice to see you too, Dad,” I said. I didn't bother to point out I was five minutes early.

Cynthia Welling clicked her tongue. “Don't be passive-aggressive, Andrea.”

“Sorry, Mom,” I said in my best placating tone. Would she prefer I was aggressive-aggressive? I could do a lot of damage with a salad fork if I wanted to.

She sniffed and picked up her menu. “I hear the seafood salad here is divine. And the Waldorf salad as well.” She eyed me meaningfully.

I picked up my own menu and skimmed it. None of the items had prices. Exactly the kind of place mymother adored. She didn't want to think about spending money. According to her, if you had to think about it, you didn't have enough of it. Easy for her to say, when she was married to a self-made billionaire.

I hated the pretentiousness of places like this. Everyone was self-important and had some kind of agenda. Most of the people only ate here to be seen. Sure, the food was some of the best on the east coast, but Chantelle's was mostly about being rich and showing off.

“I think I'll have the ravioli,” I said. “The one with beef inside. And some garlic bread.”

“Andrea,” Cynthia started. “Are you sure about that?”

I looked her straight in the eye and smiled. “I'm certain.” I leaned over and placed my hand on hers. “But by all means, enjoy a salad.”

I sat back and placed my hands in my lap. She rarely made direct comments about my weight, but I was done taking her indirect ones. I tolerated it from the people around me for too long, including Xander.

Quentin snorted. He never openly agreed with the things she said, but he didn't tell her to stop it either. No, he had his own ways of judging me.

“Something to say, honey?” Cynthia asked, her tone bordering on venomous.

“Nothing at all,” he said, without looking up from his menu. “How's the hockey team going, Andi?” Unlike my mother, he rarely called me Andrea. Mostly because I didn't answer to it from anyone but her. And only from her because I knew she wouldn't budge. It wasn't worth starting a war over.

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