Page 43 of Second-Rate Superstar

“Good. Continue.”

“My breasts are a decent size. Not too big, not too small.”

Hannah laughed. “You havegreattits. Trust me. What else?”

“I like my hourglass figure. Hips aren’t always a bad thing.” I was gaining confidence with each declaration.

“You’ve got that right. Men go fucking nuts for hips to grab onto.”

My cheeks turned red in the mirror. I would have to take her word on that.

Hannah clapped her hands. “Okay, that’s enough. Grab a robe. Can’t stand around all day eyeing your sexy bod. I promised you help with your research, so that’s what you’re gonna get.”

Grabbing the nearest robe and slipping my arms through the soft sleeves, I asked, “Here?”

“Why not?” she countered, donning her robe and tying the sash. “Kill two birds with one stone. You get what you need, and we get a relaxing day of pampering. That’s a win in my book.”

She had a point. As long as we were here, we might as well enjoy ourselves.

Our first stop was side-by-side massages. I didn’t realize how tight my muscles were from sitting and writing all day, every day. But with the first press of the masseur’s hands, I groaned at the pleasurable release of my sore muscles, and Hannah chuckled from her table.

“See? Told you this was a great idea,” she teased.

“Uh-huh.” My eyes were closed, reveling in the tension leaving my body.

Halfway through, my body felt like putty, loose and malleable. Hannah’s voice called over, “So, tell me what you know so far about hockey.”

Right. We were here to work, not just play. “I know the names of the lines: goal line, blue line, and red line. Then, there’s equipment—stick, puck, gear. There are five players for each team, plus a goalie. Sometimes, there are penalties that take a player away from a team. Offense and defense play on the ice simultaneously, and they swap out in the middle of the action, not just when whistles blow.”

“Not a bad start,” Hannah mused. “Do you know the specific position names beyond offense and defense?”

I searched my mind. I knew this. “Defense is made up of defensemen. The offense is forwards, I think?”

“Very good. And what positions can you play as a forward?”

My nose wrinkled in thought, but I was drawing a blank. “I forget.”

“That’s okay. They can either be wingers or centers. The center has free reign of the ice, but he’s your playmaker. There’s only one of those per shift, and as you can guess, they are usually at the faceoff circle in the middle of a line. Then, there are two wingers, a left and a right. They tend to stick to their side, but there is some fluidity. The three forwards usually have built some chemistry by playing together for a while. They will swap positions to cover the ice. In all honesty, watching it is a thing of beauty. Have you been to a game?”

“No.” I was almost ashamed to admit that with how passionately she spoke about the sport.

“Then we’ll have to make that happen. I’m happy to sit by your side and explain the action as it happens in real-time.”

“Maybe,” I replied. Going to the rink with Braxton was one thing. But being at a professional game again after all this time? I wasn’t sure I was ready for that yet.

Our massage at an end, we thanked the men working on us, and Hannah handed them each a tip. Moving down the hall, we entered another room with one large table at the center. It looked almost like what you’d see in a doctor’s office.

Looking to Hannah for answers since she seemed to know what was going on, I asked, “What happens in this room?”

A wicked grin curved on her lips. “Waxing.”

Stumbling back a step, I crashed into the table. “What? No.”

She’d seen me naked. Only one place could be considered for forceful hair removal, and that wasnothappening.

“Oh, come on, Dakota,” she chided. “It’s the twenty-first century. Sure, some guys are into the natural look, but most go feral when a girl is bare. I’m doing you a favor.”

“A favor?” I scoffed. “I beg to differ. Ripping my hair out by the roots”—I gestured to the area between my legs—“thereisn’t helping me in any way.” Under my breath, I added, “Sounds more like torture.”

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