1
PEYTON
I take one step down the aisle and stumble. I would’ve fallen if strong hands hadn’t caught my waist.
“You okay?” Daltyn is so close to my ear that his deep baritone sends shivers down my spine. Goosebumps erupt across my skin from the warmth of his breath.
“I-I’m fine.” My voice shakes, but it’s not from the turbulence the plane experienced before landing.
It’s from him.
“Sorry you had to go through that.” He moves his hands but watches me, ready to catch me if I stumble again.
Let him think it’s from the plane turbulence. He knows I hate flying.
When my legs don’t buckle like a newborn deer, he whispers, “We need to exit.”
Oh yeah.
Right.
I start moving, acutely aware of his presence behind me.
Who wouldn’t be?
Daltyn Guyer. The six-foot-two goalie for the Avalanche hockey team. Bulging muscles and the kind offace that should come with a boxer-brief endorsement. Golden brown hair, baby blue eyes, and the flash of his dimple on the rare occasion he smiles is enough to ruin any woman.
Including me.
Not that I’d tell him that.
As if that package isn’t enough, the man has a serious hero complex. At least he does when it comes to me.
He falls in step beside me as soon as we’re off the plane, casually strolling into the airport, completely unbothered by my presence. I’m breaking into a sweat just being so close to him.
That could also be because he runs at least five degrees warmer than I do.
Burlington International Airport is chaotic. People rushing. A baby is crying. Two teenagers are fighting over a bag, and it’s giving me a headache.
I feel him watching me before I glance up and catch him doing exactly that. Smirking down at me like my reaction is the best entertainment he’s had all day.
“What?” I ask defensively.
“Nothing.” His mouth twitches.
“Does this noise just... irritate you?”
He lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Not really.”
“Why not?”
“I’m used to it. I play in front of thousands of screaming fans, remember?”
“Yeah. I know. Still, this doesn’t grate on your nerves?”
Someone bumps into me, knocking me into Daltyn’s side. He wraps his arm protectively around me, glaring at the man until he apologizes.
“Wait a minute,” the guy says, his face lighting up. “Aren’t you Daltyn Guyer?”
