Page 90 of Second-Rate Superstar

Sit on that for a minute.

Once I claimed her body, there would be no turning back. So, she had better be ready.

Chapter 21

Dakota

“Your brother bakes.” Agiggle worked its way up my throat as I buried my face in Braxton’s neck.

One of his hands glided lazily up and down my back, where I was curled into his side on the couch. “Yes, he does.”

“No.” My body shook with the effort it took to hold in laughter. “Hereallybakes. Like, from scratch.”

Chuckling, Braxton plucked the glass of eggnog from my hand. “Okay, you’re cut off.”

“Party pooper,” I whined, sticking my lip out in a pout.

Draining the rest of my drink, he licked his lower lip, causing me to shift in my seat. Braxton noticed my attention on his mouth and the physical response, and his eyes flared.

“Lush,” he teased, voice husky.

“Who, me?”

His thumb caressed my cheek. “Oh yes, you.”

I wasn’t normally a big drinker, but he had a point. I had overindulged. The glass of eggnog he stole was my fourth that evening. I would prefer toblame losing myself in alcohol on the fact that I was awkwardly crashing this family’s holiday, but if I was being honest, the root cause was Braxton’s words from earlier. They had shifted my world on its axis.

For as long as I lived, I would never forget how he looked at me—the possession in his eyes—and the unwavering confidence with which he spoke.

It should terrify me that he knew exactly what he wanted for the rest of his life—a life he’d made no secret that I would have a starring role in. But for some reason, I found myself craving the picture he painted, the family he envisioned. Maybe it was because I didn’t have that growing up—a family created because two people couldn’t contain their love for each other.

A family like Jaxon and Natalie had.

I couldn’t take my eyes off them this afternoon as I observed their holiday tradition of making homemade gingerbread houses, among other types of cookies. Each child had been involved in some way—minus Max, of course, asleep in his bassinet. Charlie held a perch on the kitchen island, taste-testing the dough whenever her mother’s back was turned. Natalie had made it clear early on that the kids weren’t to eat raw dough, and while Jaxon agreed with his wife, the defiant sparkle in his eyes told a different story. He and Charlie were in cahoots, and my heart warmed watching the love he had not only for his toddler daughter but for all the children.

The love of that family unit was nothing compared to Jaxon's unfiltered adoration for his wife. It was as if he were magnetically drawn to her. Whenever she was within arm’s reach, his touch was a certainty—whether it was a light graze of her shoulder, a hand to her lower back, or the hair brushed away from her face. But even when she was across the room, his eyes constantly flitted to her like she was a beacon. She commanded his attention by merely existing.

It was incredible to watch in person, and I understood why women lost their minds over fictional love. There was a hope that, one day, you might be of the receiving end of the kind of love Jaxon had for his wife. Until today, I hadn’t believed such a thing existed.

Could it be as easy as they made it look?

For the first time in my life, I wanted to find out.

The credits rolled on the kids’ holiday movie on the screen above the stone fireplace. That must have been some sort of signal for the Slate children because they immediately moved to huddle together at the base of the massive Christmas tree they had decorated mere hours ago.

Amelia took charge, handing wrapped boxes to her siblings before turning and handing identical ones to her parents. Returning to the tree, she grabbed two more, stopping before Braxton and me.

“Uncle Braxton.” He accepted the gift with a smirk. “And one for you, Dakota.”

“What’s this?” I asked, taking the festively wrapped package she offered.

Peeking back at her parents, she smiled. “It’s our holiday tradition for the whole family to wear matching pajamas for Christmas Eve. Something Mom started with us when we moved back to Connecticut.”

I could barely move, barely breathe. Was this fresh-faced teenage girl implying that I was a member of this picture-perfect family?

“Oh, but I’m not . . .” The words died on my lips as emotion took over, and my throat closed up.

Braxton leaned in close, speaking low in my ear. “If it makes you feel any better, this is my first time being included. This used to be a sacred ritual reserved only for Nat and her girls. Plus Liam, of course.”

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