Page 48 of Second-Rate Superstar

Eyes searching mine, he paused before answering. “I guess when I was in college? I was able to take on a leadership role and make a name for myself.Everyone knew my brother, but I’d earned the ‘C’ on my chest. I took pride in it.”

“And now?” I questioned. “So many guys would kill to be where you are.”

“Maybe,” he mused. “But I’m not sure they would have agreed to the price I paid to be here.”

Braxton was being vague, and I didn’t want to push him. He was already giving me a glimpse of what Natalie had described. But there was more to the story than living in his brother’s shadow. I could feel it.

Not wanting to put a damper on our time together, I asked, “If you could choose any job in the world—not hockey—what would it be?”

My question had the desired effect, and Braxton’s mood shifted, a smile curling onto his lips. “Well, my degree is in analytics, but that’s too close to the game and could still be considered hockey. I think maybe something to do with cars.”

“Like a mechanic? Get your hands dirty?”

Braxton let out a laugh. “While I’m sure you’d love to see me in that one-piece coverall with grease streaked on my face, I was thinking more along the lines of racing.”

“Go big or go home,” I teased. “Years of playing hockey has you conditioned to chase the high created by the crowd screaming your name.”

He leaned in close, his face almost pressed against the cage of my helmet, as his voice lowered. “Maybe I like an element of danger.”

My breath caught in my throat, and I was pretty sure the silk panties Hannah had bought me were utterly ruined. My heart raced, the helmet closing in on me, and my hands reached up to claw at the straps holding it securely to my head.

“Get this off of me.” The words came out in a panic.

Concern filled Braxton’s amber eyes, and with a flick of his wrist, the buckles were undone and the helmet lifted from my head before I heard it hit the ice with a thunk. Braxton’s thick hockey gloves joined the helmet at our feet before his bare hands cupped my cheeks.

“Hey, you’re okay. I’ve got you.” His voice was soft and soothing, causing my eyes to flutter shut.

Warm hands against my frosted cheeks had me leaning into his embrace. His thumbs caressed slowly, providing comfort, and my heart rate began to settle.

Steeling my nerves, I forced my eyes open to find his face filling my entire field of vision. Averting my gaze, I whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“No, Dakota, I’m sorry. I thought we were having fun, playing around. I had no idea that my words would trigger you into a panic attack.”

I didn’t need his hands to warm my cheeks anymore; they were flaming with embarrassment. He thought his words had set me off, and perhaps in a way, they had, but it was the force of my attraction to him—my arousal—that had sent me on a tailspin.

Here was this kind and patient man, and the ghosts of my past were getting in the way. I couldn’t help but think that I would be betraying my mother’s memory if I gave him a chance.

But I could also hear her in my head, telling me how foolish that was.

It shouldn’t matter what he does for a living, sweet girl. A man is so much more than what he chooses for a profession. Don’t close your heart off to the possibility of love.

Wait, love?

No, I didn’tloveBraxton. I barely knew the guy.

But maybe you could if you let down your walls.

His charm and compassion had gone to my head, and I wasn’t thinking straight.

“Dakota, you’re shaking. Let’s call it a night.” Braxton’s words broke through my confused haze.

Gliding back half a step, he dropped his hands, reaching for the gloves and helmet discarded on the ice.

“Wait.” That single word halted his actions.

Peering up, his eyes bore into mine as if they could see into my soul. “Tell me what you need. Whatever it is, it’s yours.”

You.

---