a week. When have you had time to mentor a kid?”
He chuckled. “I haven’t actually mentored him yet. I’ve only met him that one time. But I could tell he was going to be tricky. He was there on a Friday morning. I told him I could get his mother the help she needed, but he’d have to stay in school himself. To make sure he’s holding up his end of the bargain, he’s going to come to Hannah’s Hope when she does. But Ricky told me bluntly that he wasn’t going to waste time with some meddling do-gooder. So I told him I’d mentor him after school. I could tell if I didn’t hook him right away, we’d never see him again. So I agreed to meet him on Thursday afternoon. We’ll see how it goes.”
His admission grabbed at something inside of her and squeezed. Friday had been the day of the brainstorming session. He must have gotten in earlier even than she’d thought. How many men would voluntarily spend their evenings mentoring a troubled teen? Not enough, that was for sure. How many rich celebrities would do it? Almost none. At least none that she’d met.
“That’s very generous of you,” she said, her voice surprisingly tight.
Ward gave a little noncommittal grumble, as if uncomfortable with her praise. “We’ll see how it turns out. I think he only agreed because I happened to have Dave’s guitar with me and Ricky wanted to play it.”
Her head jerked around to search his face in the darkness. Which was about as futile as trying to understand him. “You had Dave’s guitar? Why?”
He gave a chuckle. “Not because I’ve been secretly recording a new album and was planning on using Hannah’s Hope to promote it. If that’s what you’re worried about.”
She felt her cheeks burning, suddenly aware of how ridiculous her accusations from that first day sounded. And feeling very much like he could see her better in the darkness than she could see him.
“Ward, about that, I’m—”
“I was joking,” he said gently.
“Oh. Okay.”
He gave another gesture toward an upcoming block and she maneuvered the car onto his street.
“Why not the Alvarez?” she asked tentatively.
“What?”
“If you are playing guitar again, then why not the Alvarez?”
“I wouldn’t say I’m really playing it.” There was a diffidence to his voice. As if he himself wasn’t sure how to answer the question.
“Do you ever miss it?” she asked as she steered the car into his driveway.
He didn’t answer, but pulled the automatic door opener from the glove box.
She waited while the carriage house doors cranked open and to fill the noticeable silence, she started talking.
“I started sewing because of my abuela. She could make anything, usually just by looking at it. Emma’s mother, Denise, had bought her these beautiful dresses. Spent a fortune on her clothes. Emma couldn’t bear to get rid of them after her mom died, so Abuela reworked them so Emma could wear them for years. Eventually, Emma started to bring her pictures of things she’d seen in a magazine and Abuela would make her clothes, too.”
Ana coaxed the car into its spot and cut the engine. Then she shifted in her seat, bringing her leg onto the bench beside her as she faced him. Opening the garage door had triggered an overhead light, which cast the hard planes of his face in interesting shadows, but did little to reveal more of his mood.
“She taught me to sew when I was ten. It was something we did together. Even now that she’s gone, I feel closest to her when I’m sewing. I still like to make my own clothes. It’s the one thing I miss about being a costume designer.”
Ward quirked an eyebrow. “That’s what you regret about leaving Hollywood? Sewing is the only thing you miss?”
She chuckled. “Well, that and the fact that I never got to wear any of those gorgeous clothes I made.” She held out the keys to the Hornet and dropped them into his hand. “That’s why I was asking about the Alvarez. It was such an important part of your life for so long. I can’t believe you don’t miss it.”
He carefully reached up and set the keys on the dashboard and then grabbed her hand from where it rested on her leg. “I’m not really interested in talking about the Alvarez.”
She stilled instantly, her breath caught in her chest. His hand was warm, his fingertips rough as he ran them along her palm. Pressing her lips