Page 42 of Second-Rate Superstar

“I’m Dakota, by the way,” I offered, moving toward the car.

Flicking her wrist over her shoulder, she replied, “I know.”

So much for pleasantries. But I couldn’t help but smile. From a brief glimpse of Hannah’s sassy personality, I could picture what Bristol would be like in ten years. That was, if she ever managed to land Nix, which I highly doubted. Thankfully, she hadn’t let him distract her from her schoolwork and would graduate with a useful degree in six months.

I hopped into the passenger seat, and Hannah drove us to an upscale neighborhood with a downtown area lined with shops and restaurants. Parking the SUV, she didn’t wait for me before entering the front door of what looked like a spa.

Following, I pushed through the door, confirming my suspicions. Hannah was already chatting up the woman at the front desk about treatments.

Sidling up to her at the desk, I whispered, “I can’t afford this.”

A charming yet fake laugh filtered past her lips, and she held up a finger to the receptionist as she pulled me to the side. “Look. I get you don’t know me yet, but give me a little credit. I brought you here. It’s my treat.”

“I couldn’t possibly—” I began to protest, but the words died on my lips when she held up a hand.

“Trust me. I’ve been there. My girlfriends were mega-rich before they married well. My family did okay, but we weren’t raking in trust-fund-levelmoney. I was living with my parents until a little over a year ago. And I’m thirty-two, for the record, so I was practically the poster child for failure-to-launch syndrome. I know what it’s like to feel like a burden as your friends pick up the tab time and time again. So, consider this me paying it forward. My girls did it for me, so let me do it for you. Maybe one day you can do it for someone else.”

Wow. I guess you really couldn’t judge a book by its cover.

Nice, Dakota. Real original. The author using a worn-out book idiom.

“Okay.” I nodded, accepting Hannah’s generous gesture. “Thank you.”

Hannah shrugged. “No biggie. If you want to make it up to me, I won’t say no to my name being credited in the back of your book. Or, better yet, in the dedication.” She snorted. “Oh boy, that would piss Natalie off big time.”

Stunned, I asked, “You know about my book?”

Reaching up a hand, she patted me on the cheek. “Dear sweet Dakota, I know much more than you think.”

Yeah, that doesn’t sound like trouble at all.

Spinning around, she checked us in, and we were led to a private changing room with a full shower. There was a full rack of towels, high-end beauty products laid across the marble sink, and two robes hung on hooks for our use.

Hannah had no shame, shedding her clothes out in the open—quickly and without warning—so I couldn’t avert my eyes in time. She was comfortable in her own skin; that went without question. Shyly, I wrapped a towel around myself, wiggling out of my clothes from beneath it. I was having major gym class locker room flashbacks with this move.

“You’ve got a hot little body.” Hannah’s voice startled me, and I lost my grip on the towel.

In slow motion, I watched as it floated toward the ground, and I was left standing there naked for inspection. My first instinct was to cover myself the best I could with my hands while retrieving it, but Hannah halted me with her words. “Own it.”

Wide-eyed, I peeked over at her, also standing naked, following her very own advice and owning it. My cheeks heated, but I couldn’t look away.

“Take a deep breath.” I couldn’t help but obey. “Good. Now, step in front of the mirror.”

What was happening? Was this a scene from one of my books where a character was forced to watch their reflection as a partner got them off? Certainly not. Hannah was attached. At least, that’s what Braxton had said. Right?

Blue eyes sparkling with mischief, she seemingly read my mind. “Relax. I’m batting for Team Loves a Giant Cock.”

Good to know.

After another cleansing breath, I moved to the mirror. Hannah remained off to the side, commanding, “Look at yourself and tell me what you like about your body.”

Oh boy. Here goes nothing.

“Um. I guess I have nice skin?” That was the best place to start. Safe.

“Was that a question or a statement?” Hannah called over.

Nodding to my reflection, I clarified, “A statement. I have nice skin.”

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