11. Dakota

"I still can not believe you hung out with THE Hannah Moreau," Bristol said from her perch on my bed as I prepared for my skating session with Braxton.

I shrugged, tugging on the sweatshirt he'd bought me the last time we went to the rink. "She's just a person, Bristol."

"No." She shook her head. "She's legendary. And now that she's dating Cal Berg? Talk about a power couple in the hockey world."

"Aw, do you need me to set up a playdate for you with Hannah?" I teased.

"You say that like a joke, but I would sell my left kidney to be friends with her. If you want a first-class ticket into the Comets' inner circle, she's it."

Chuckling, I mused, "How did I go from dipping my toes into the hockey pool to being thrown in head first by the coach's daughter?"

Bristol's blue eyes sparkled. "Whatever you're doing, keep it up. An all-expenses paid spa day? Lucky bitch. Then throw in the messenger with a note saying she's pre-booked and pre-paid your next six months of waxing maintenance and a bag full of Arabella Reign lingerie? The panties alone are fifty bucks a pair!"

My cheeks heated. I was reminded with every step I took of what Hannah said about silk panties caressing between my thighs now that I was bare down there.

My best friend wasn't done with her grumbling over my perceived good fortune. "You know I love you, Dakota, but what do I have to do to get the "it girl" in hockey to choose to be my fairy godmother?" She flopped backward onto the bed, letting out a whine.

The doorbell rang, indicating Braxton's arrival.

Arm slung over her face, Bristol huffed. "Go. Live your best life. I'll be here, lamenting that you hate the sport and have somehow found yourself fully entrenched with Comets royalty."

I frowned. Bristol wasn't usually so down on herself. I wondered if perhaps Nix had said or done something that upset her. Usually, when the team was home, she'd be over at his place, but it seemed like she would be staying in tonight.

Reminding myself that it never ended well when you stuck your nose in other people's business, I squeezed her leg and told her I'd see her later. When she was ready to talk, I knew she'd spill whatever was bothering her.

Walking down the stairs, I opened the front door to reveal the charmingly boyish grin waiting on the other side. Today, Braxton was in dark gray joggers, a Comets hoodie similar to mine, and a backward-facing ballcap in the same navy color as his sweatshirt. I would lay bets that the Comets logo was on the other side.

We'd talked via text a few times while he was away, but seeing him in person for the first time in a couple of weeks, it hit me that I was happy that he was finally home. What did it say about me that I missed a guy I barely knew?

Alarm bells sounded in my head when he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, but I couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

Flashing me an endearingly crooked grin, he said, "Nice hoodie."

A smile crept onto my own face, and I joked back with a shrug. "Some guy got it for me. Told me some story about being a hockey player? Not sure I believe it. He was probably exploiting my lack of knowledge about the sport."

"Pretty girls get guys to do crazy things." Braxton held up a finger and twirled it. "Turn around. Let me see who this hotshot thought he was."

Spinning on my toes, I peeked over my shoulder as he read the name and number splayed across my back. I didn't miss the way his eyes flared reading his own name.

"Slate, huh? Ballsy move. I'd have gone with someone less high-profile if it were me."

Smirking, I turned to face him. "I think he really wanted to impress me."

"Can't say I blame him. I'd do whatever it took to impress you, too."

Leaning against the doorframe, a boldness I never knew I possessed took over, and I openly scanned Braxton from head to toe. "Is that so?" He nodded, a corner of his lips quirking up, his eyes never leaving mine. "Then, where do you plan on taking me this evening?"

Whiskey eyes sparkling, he replied, "The ice rink, where else? I've taken it as a personal mission to uncover the hockey fan I know is buried deep within that beautiful body."

"Awfully confident, aren't you?" I challenged.

"Occupational hazard, I'm afraid." He held his hand out to me in invitation. "You ready?"

Nodding, I took his offered hand, the calloused pads of his fingertips rough against my softer skin. Closing the door behind me, I let Braxton lead me to his car, and for the first time since I met him, I vowed to have an open mind.

Things went a lot smoother this time without me fighting Braxton every step of the way. This time, he'd brought a stick and puck onto the ice with us and made me wear a bulky helmet with a metal cage to protect my face. He explained that while players worked tirelessly to hone their precision, he wasn't willing to risk an errant shot hitting one of the red posts of the net and careening back to hit me in the face. I was sure I looked ridiculous, but his care for my safety warmed me from the inside out.

Braxton took his time, showing me how to hold a stick and even letting me take a few pathetic shots at the net. Maybe if I hadn't been using the stick as a crutch to remain upright, the puck would have skittered more than a few feet away upon my clumsy swipes.

Frustrated, I handed him back the stick. "I don't know how you're so good at this."

He shrugged. "Lots and lots of practice. It feels like I've spent nearly every day of my life on the ice."

Pieces of my earlier conversation with him and my one with Natalie came to mind. "But does it make you happy?"

Staring down at me, he sighed. "Some times more than others."

"Like when?"

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't love Braxton. 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.

My heart was running away with him, and my brain was trying to catch up. I was in big trouble.

Swallowing around my heart suddenly lodged in my throat, I croaked out, "I want to see you skate."

His brows furrowed. "You've seen me skating for the past half hour."

"No." I shook my head. "The way you skate in a game. Not the snail"s pace we shuffle along. Show me what it looks like when you push yourself."

Rising to his full height, he studied my face. "Are you sure? We can do this another time."

"Please?" I breathed out.

"Okay. You stay right here. Don't move a muscle. Understand?"

I nodded, and he turned my body slightly so I straddled the red line at center ice, facing the benches where the teams sat.

Notching his front skate into the ice, I was fascinated when it dug in. He'd explained that ice resurfacers smoothed the ice between periods because the skates cut into it. But we'd barely made a nick in it during our time out here.

There wasn't much time to ponder the force the players must use to carve a path through the frozen surface before he took off like a bullet. Streaking away from me, he kept to the edge of the rink. Just when I thought he would crash into the wall when he reached the end, his legs crossed—one over the other—multiple times, aiding in a smooth turn along the short wall before heading back in my direction.

Amazed at the ease at which he propelled his body with complete control, I was oblivious that he was speeding right toward me. When I realized he was on a collision course, my muscles locked, and I remained frozen to the spot. Was this what it was like for deer when they saw headlights coming toward them? Knowing their demise was imminent but powerless to step out of the way?

Slamming my eyes shut, I braced for impact as Braxton barreled toward me like a train speeding down the tracks. The sound of his skates hitting the ice drew closer, and I suddenly missed that uncomfortable helmet that would have kept my head from cracking like an egg when Braxton inevitably crashed into me.

This is it. This is where I'm going to die.

My muscles ached with how tense I held them, which I knew would only make this hurt more. I couldn't help it. It was a natural human response.

There was a sharp "chhh" sound, and I flinched, squealing as icy wetness sprayed across my face.

"Aw, you missed the best part." Braxton's voice was full of humor.

Well, the good news was that I was alive. The bad news was that I was going to kill Braxton.

Opening my eyes, I glared at the man standing before me, a smirk on his handsome face. "Jerk." Using two hands, I shoved at his chest. "You did that on purpose!"

Laughter echoed throughout the empty rink, and I glimpsed down to find myself covered in what looked like snow.

"Glad you're amused," I grumbled as I brushed off my clothes and wiped away the water droplets across my face.

Reining it in, his laughter slowly died, but his dazzling smile remained.

"You're right," I mocked, gesturing around. "None of this makes you happy."

Skating closer, his eyes darkened. "It's being here with you that makes me happy, Firefly."

Oh, God. I wasn't going to survive this man. My chest tightened, but I managed to breathe enough not to embarrass myself again.

Sensing that he was walking a fine line, he changed the subject. "Come on. Let's get out of here. I know a great little ice cream place."

Taking my hand in his, he led me off the ice, and the door to my heart cracked open the tiniest bit.