Page 20 of Second-Rate Superstar
“Fine,” I grumbled.
She hugged me tightly. “I’m so happy for you!”
I shoved her off. “I’m not hopping into bed with the guy. I’m only in it long enough to get an inside peek at the hockey life, and then I’m out. Got it?”
Bristol nodded her head enthusiastically. “Got it.”
Brushing past her, I descended the staircase slowly, like I was headed to my own execution. Behind me, Bristol bounced on each step, unable to contain her excitement.
Rounding the landing, I saw the man I’d only had the pleasure of viewing in a darkened basement. The dim lighting had cast him in a dark and broody glow, but I wanted to moan at how pretty he was in the light of day.
Dark, almost black hair was cropped close on the sides, left longer on top. Warm, amber eyes demanded I look directly into them. I wondered if they darkened when he was aroused, the same way men’s eyes did when I wrote them.
His muscles were on full display with how well his clothing fit his athletic frame. Jeans hugged impressively toned thighs, and a T-shirt molded over the ridges of his chest and abdomen, barely containing his bulging biceps. I couldn’t have drawn him up any better in my mind, and a small thrill ran through me at the idea that he was the perfectly built book boyfriend.
Why? Why was the first guy who’d ever made me weak in the knees at the mere sight of him an athlete? God was playing a cruel trick on me, putting him directly in my path.
He stood from where he sat on our couch, brushing both palms down his jean-clad thighs. Hesitant, he took a step forward. “Hey.” He looked mildly uncomfortable when I only stared at him in response. “I, um, I wanted to stop by and say I was sorry for the other night. I’m not usually ajerk to pretty girls, but . . .” He sighed. “I thought you were a member of the press. And with how much attention is on me at the moment, I couldn’t afford a story leaking about a rage at my residence with underage girls in attendance.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t throw parties,” I suggested.
Running a hand through that dark hair, he nodded in agreement. “You’re right. It wasn’t exactly my idea.”
“Do you usually buckle under peer pressure?” I challenged.
Bristol fake coughed beside me, forcing out, “Remember your research.”
“No,” he replied. “I’m usually a leader, not a follower. And if I’m being honest, I had half a mind to leave that night, but the idea that an unsuspecting girl might get taken advantage of under my roof had me keeping watch. I was about to kick everyone out when you caught my eye from across the basement.”
“How chivalrous,” I muttered.
He sighed. “We got off on the wrong foot.” Stepping forward, he extended a hand. “I’m Braxton. And before you ask, yes. Full disclosure, I do play hockey for the Connecticut Comets.”
Eyeing his offered hand like a snake that might bite me, I was shoved forward by my oh-so-lovely best friend. Caught off guard, I stumbled, falling right into Braxton’s arms.
Twin steel bands tightened around my upper body, holding me pressed close to his hard chest. And for a moment, I allowed his warmth to surround me.
What did it say about me that I wanted to nuzzle against him?
Get a grip, Dakota!
Peering up, mildly embarrassed, I mumbled, “Thanks,” before trying to draw away.
Staring down at me, he slowly relinquished his grasp, asking, “Are you okay?”
Nodding, I took a step back. “Yeah. Just clumsy, I guess.” I shot a murderous glare over my shoulder at Bristol.
“Well, I have to be going!” she chirped, brushing past me. Grabbing her purse, she called back from the door, “You two crazy kids have fun!”
The door slammed, and she was gone.
Closing my eyes briefly, I took a deep breath before exhaling slowly. Could she have been any more obvious? Nothing was going to happen just because she was out of the house.
That deep voice spoke. “You have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I still don’t know yours.”
I scoffed. “You’re telling me, Little Miss Subtle As a Sledgehammer didn’t slip you that info, along with our address?”
A corner of his lips quirked up. “Guilty.”
