Page 13 of Defensive Desire

"Oh God. Is it that obvious?"

He chuckles. "Emma-bean, you've got that same look you had before your first spelling bee. Like you're about to face a firing squad instead of doing something you're actually good at."

Lucy snorts from her corner. "Tell her, Walt. Maybe she'll listen to you."

My grandfather winks at me. "You've got this, sweetheart. Just be yourself."

I roll my eyes, but can't help smiling. "That's what Logan said."

"Smart man, that Kane boy." Grandpa sips his coffee. "Always did like him."

Lucy raises her eyebrows. "Oh? Since when?"

"Since he first came to Iron Ridge with the team. Watched him step between that drunk heckler and one of our high school kids outside Ridgeview after a tough loss." Grandpa's eyes growdistant with the memory. "Never said a word about it either. Just made sure the kid got home safe, then went right back to his business."

Something warm unfurls in my chest at the image of a younger Logan, a rookie player perhaps, who was already the quiet protector, already carrying that sense of responsibility that seems to hang around his broad shoulders like a cape.

Grandpa gives me a look that tells me he's reading my every thought.

"Some people talk a good game, Emma-bean. Others just play it."

With that cryptic wisdom, he pulls me into a bear hug. I breathe in his familiar scent ofye-oldeaftershave, coffee, and the faint hint of pipe tobacco he hasn't smoked in fifteen years but somehow still clings to his clothes.

"Well, I guess I should get going," I say, gathering my samples and tote bag. "The crew's setting up at nine-thirty and I still need to get changed."

Grandpa gives me one last squeeze. "Knock 'em dead, kiddo."

As I walk out the door, I catch a glimpse of Clara through the windows of Summit Café across the street.

I wave, and she returns it with a warm smile and a thumbs-up. I assumed she would be in on this type of opportunity too? Summit Café has been a staple of Iron Ridge since before I opened my shop.

Walking toward the arena, Clara's easy smile plays on my mind.

I can't shake the feeling that I'm always performing, always trying to be the Emma that people expect instead of just... being. Like Clara. being happy in the moment.

Instead, I'm trying to be the perfect daughter my mother wants. The savvy business owner my customers see. The confident entrepreneur that Lucy believes in.

But who am I, really?

And why does the thought of Logan Kane seeing the real me, my flaws and all, make my heart race faster than a triple espresso shot?

***

The media room at Icehawk Arena is a flurry of activity when I arrive. Camera equipment, lights, and microphones are being set up by a crew in matching black polo shirts.

Sophia directs traffic from the center of the room, tablet in hand, while Blake hovers nearby like her personal security detail.

And then, like the calm in amongst all the chaos… there's Logan.

He's leaning against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest, biceps straining against the sleeves of a simple dark green Icehawks polo. His dark jeans are worn in all the right places, hugging powerful legs that could probably bench press me without breaking a sweat.

Not that I've thought about that.

His eyes find mine immediately, tracking my movement as I enter the room. A look of surprise, or perhaps appreciation flashes across his face before he schools his features back into that familiar stoic mask.

The way his gaze drops to my outfit makes my skin tingle. By the time I'd made up my mind and finally changed, I'd settled on a soft cream sweater dress that hugs my curves without being obvious about it, paired with brown knee-high boots.

Professional enough for camera, but stillme.

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