out the window before speaking. “I’ve never met her.”
“And yet you’re here to visit?”
Her smile tipped wryly. “Weird, right?”
“I’m not going to judge.”
She snorted at that, but it was without rancor. I flicked a glance her way, and our gazes snagged. We shared a small smile, as if to say we were both full of shit. But then she shrugged.
“I was . . . going through a rough time and called my own grandmother. She told me of this wonderful estate called Rosemont and the utterly charming friend of hers who owned it.” Emma sent me a shy look before forging on. “She said it was the perfect place to hide away and come back to myself.”
At that, she hunched her shoulders, as if bracing for my scorn. She wouldn’t get that from me. The fact that she’d made herself vulnerable to possible ridicule from a perfect stranger sent a surge of unexpected protectiveness through me, and I gave her something of myself in return.
“My parents were killed in a car accident when I was fourteen.” I waved off her immediate words of sympathy. “Amalie became both grandmother and mother to me. Her second husband, Frank, had just bought Rosemont. So that is where we lived during the school year. It’s a nice place to . . .”
Heal. Mourn.
I gripped the wheel and took a moment to push away memories of being that lost, angry kid. But it was no use. They came anyway. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s some sort of magical place . . .” Sure, that’s why you ran to it as soon as you could. “But it’s beautiful and private. And Amalie will most definitely take care of you.”
That thought in particular made me both happy and uncomfortable. Emma should have someone looking after her. But why did it have to be here, where I couldn’t escape? As it was, I’d talked more to this woman in a few minutes than I had to anyone in months.
Thankfully, Emma just nodded and looked thoughtfully out the window at the mountain range streaking past.
“I’ve been helping her fix up the property,” I felt compelled to say, though why, I had no idea. She didn’t need to know. And still my mouth wouldn’t shut up. “Mostly the guesthouses. They’ve been falling into disrepair over the years. Yours has been renovated, though.”
Shut up, Oz, you hoser.
“I never doubted it,” she murmured.
Blissful silence fell. For about ten seconds.
“So you’re a contractor?”
Part of me wanted to laugh. Part of me wanted to howl into the void. This was what I’d become. A man who used to have adoring fans, crowds of them hanging out after a game in hopes of getting an autograph. A man who the hockey world had expected to earn his team another Stanley Cup victory. Now nothing more than some guy working for his grandmother and chauffeuring a famous actress who didn’t have a clue who he was.
Not that I’d expected her to be a huge hockey fan. But there wasn’t even a glimmer of recognition. I’d had international campaigns for an energy drink, a watch company, sports cars, and health bars. Hell, she presumably lived in Los Angeles at least some of the year. A fifty-foot billboard of me holding my stick while wearing nothing more than tight red boxer briefs and a smile hung over both Sunset and Los Feliz.
I thought of that asinine billboard, copies of which dotted cites around the world, remembering how the guys used to comment about Lucky Luc flaunting his sack of jewels, and cringed.
Maybe it was better that she didn’t recognize me. Maybe that was why when she’d asked me my name, I’d said Lucian. Aside from my parents, no one called me Lucian. I had always been called Oz or Luc.
At my side, nosy little Emma made a sound, the tiniest of “Hello? Earth to Lucian” prompts, reminding me that I hadn’t answered her. Was I a contractor?
“Something like that.”
I snapped on the radio. Truth was I had absolutely no desire for her to recognize me. That would lead to questions and the inevitable truth that I could no longer do the one thing I loved most in life.
Stomach like lead, I drove in grim silence. And for once, Emma didn’t push for polite chitchat. The Pacific opened up before us in an endless blue expanse. Sunlight sparkled off the water, throwing up glints of gold that flared and shimmered. I reached for my sunglasses