Page 41 of Second-Rate Superstar

Braxton:Believe it or not, “intense” might be one of the nicest words I’ve heard used to describe her.

That’s not exactly a mark in the pro column.

Braxton:If you can getpast the lack of filter, she’s harmless. I promise.

Any idea where she plans to take me?

Braxton:Not a clue.

You’re on standby if I need rescuing?

Braxton:*Winking emoji* Always. Another skating session this weekend? Have you been studying those videos?

Is there going to be a quiz?

Braxton:*Smirk emoji* Maybe.

*Grabs glasses to start jotting down notes*

Braxton:You wear glasses? That’s kinda hot in a sexy-teacher kinda way.

*Eye roll emoji* You’re hopeless.

Braxton:*Shrugs* Don’t yuck my yum.

See you this weekend. If I survive Hannah, that is.

Braxton:You’ll be fine. Text if you need anything before Saturday. I’m around between practices and games.

See you Saturday.

The doorbellrang, and nervously, I stepped through the living room to answer the door, already knowing who was waiting on the other side.

I was not prepared to come face to face with arguably the most stunning woman I’d ever seen in real life. Sparkling blue eyes scanned me from head to toe, almost as if she were assessing whether or not I was worth her time. Brown hair threaded with caramel highlights was twisted into a braid hanging over one shoulder. A tight crop top stretched across her breasts, exposing the skin of her slim mid-section, with workout leggings completing her look. And most shocking of all were her shoes. Who wore flip-flops in November?

Choice of footwear aside,thiswas what I expected to see on the arm of a hockey player. She looked so beautiful dressed down that I feared the sight would be blinding when she was fully put together.

But beyond her physical appearance, she exuded a confidence I wished I could bottle.

Hannah Moreau gave off serious I-don’t-care-what-you-think-of-me vibes.

A corner of her full lips turned up. “I see it.”

My eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing.” She waved a dismissive hand. “You ready to go?”

Peering down at my clothing choice of jeans and an oversized sweater, I said, “You didn’t mention where we were going. Do I need to change?”

“Nope. We’ll be stripping down as soon as we get there anyway.” Her blue eyes sparked with amusement.

“S-stripping down?” I stammered.

Hannah smirked. “Don’t get your panties in a twist.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “That is, if you’re wearing any, which I am not. You’ll be covered in a towel or a robe if you choose. Now grab your stuff, and let’s go.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice. Snatching my purse from the entryway table, I stepped outside, locking the door behind me.

When I turned around, Hannah was halfway to her silver luxury SUV.

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