Page 2 of Best Kept Secret
Did she just say… brother?
Fuck. Me. This is unfortunate.
MILLIE
I see it the moment I tell him Dallas is my brother. The fight or flight response. Like I’m a rattlesnake in the S formation, about to strike at any second. I’ve had to deal with this reaction pretty much my whole life. The price of being the little sister of not only an overprotective athlete, but the little sister of an overprotective cattle rancher who carries a gun almost everywhere he goes.
“Wait—” He rears back, looking me up and down in disbelief. “You’re Dallas’s little s-sister?”
“I mean, I preferMillie, but yeah.”
“Wow. Um, okay… I’m—” He clears his throat, tugging on the back of his neck. “I’m Logan,” he finally manages.
I look down at his big hand hanging in the air between us and I shake it, startled by the snap of energy that surges up my arm the second we touch. I’m sure he feels it too, his brow furrowing as he looks down at our joined hands before we each pull away from one another like we’ve been burned.
“Can I, um—” Logan uses that same hand to push his wavy hair back from his face, eyes intense as they bore down at me. “Do you want a drink, M-Millie?”
I can’t help but smile because the guy can barely string a sentence together. And for a big, tough, professional hockey player who probably has women throwing themselves at him wherever he goes, it’s kind of refreshing. And adorable.
“Sure.” I slap him in his chest, stepping around him and heading for the bar as I call over my shoulder, “You’re buying.”
CHAPTER 1
MILLIE
Two shots of tequila and half a beer chaser later, I’m sitting next to Logan Cullen, star right wing for the New York Thunder, in the VIP of Salt, downtown Detroit’s hottest nightclub.
So far, all I know about Logan is that he’s originally from New Jersey, and his dad played professional hockey, but he was injured and forced into early retirement. Other than that, Logan’s quiet. Nothing like Dallas, that’s for sure. And he keeps looking at me from the corner of his eyes. He’s trying to be stealth about it, but he’s so not stealth. Not even a little bit. But, to be fair, neither am I. In my defense, the man is ridiculously attractive. Tall and lean, with well-defined muscles that cause the white button-down he’s wearing to tug in all the right places. Chestnut hair, a little longer on top with a slight wave to it. Eyes that refract a kaleidoscope of colors whenever the flashing disco lights hit them at just the right angle. A chiseled jaw peppered with stubble. And possibly the most enviable lips I’ve ever seen on a man. In fact, attractive doesn’t even begin to cut it; the man is straight-up yummy. Likeit’s-taking-all-I-have-not-to-lean-over-and-lick-himyummy.
“So, what do you do for a living, Millie?” Logan asks when he realizes I’ve just caught him looking at me. Again.
“I’m in college.”
Choking on the mouthful of Jack and Coke he just sipped, he holds a fist to his mouth to cover a cough. “C-college?” He gapes at me.
“Yeah, asenior,” I emphasize.
Clearing his throat, he shifts on the couch next to me. “What’s your major?”
“Business.”
“What are your plans after graduation?”
“I’m graduating early, in December, and I have an analyst role lined up at a petroleum company I interned at in Fort Worth last summer.”
He offers a small smile. “You don’t sound too jazzed about it.”
I sigh. “I applied for an internship at Hyde and Mercer. They’re a top hedge fund on Wall Street. But… I never heard back.”
“You wanna conquer Wall Street, huh?”
“Not really,” I say with a sheepish smile. “New York City’s always been my dream. My brother was just lucky enough to make it out there first.”
“Why not just move out there anyway?” He shrugs. “I’m sure Dallas would love to have you there.”
“Because New York is one of the most unaffordable cities in the country, and I’m a broke college student. If I do make it out there, I want it to be on my own merit,” I say defiantly. “Not just because my brother is there to take care of me.”
Again, I feel Logan’s eyes on me, but I choose not to look at him, instead staring down at my nearly empty bottle of Bud Light and picking at the label. I hate talking about myself.
