“Margot,” I start, and I don’t know how I’m planning to finish that sentence when someone taps me on the shoulder.
An older man I don’t recognize.
“Excuse me, I don’t mean to interrupt…” He grimaces apologetically at Margot, who steps back with a smile.
I look at her, but it’s obvious he’s talking to me.
First time anyone in this town has shown me the slightest interest over her. I’m not sure I like it.
He looks like he’s in his late fifties with a gut and greying scruff on his cheeks. I’ve never seen him before in my life.
“Yeah?” I try to hide my irritation.
“If it’s no trouble, I was just hoping for an autograph,” the man says, handing me a napkin. He winces again. “Sorry I don’t have anything better on me. If I knew I had a chance to meettheKane Saint today, I’d have come prepared.”
Autograph?
What the fuck?
“It’s for my grandson. Kid’s a big fan of all the greats,” he explains awkwardly.
That’s not the problem.
Theproblemis no one should know I’m here.
That was one good reason to head to upstate Maine.
For most people, I’m not a household name anymore. I’ve been out of the game long enough to tarnish my celebrity status.
Only the bigger hockey fanatics still recognize me, but still. I wasn’t expecting to find anyone here, up the ass end of nowhere.
Margot looks at me over the guy’s head and reaches for her phone.
“Sure, pal. What’s the name?” I force a smile, icily calm.
“Little Nick! I mean, Nick works fine. Man, thank you! He’ll be so excited.”
Still smiling until it burns my face, I slash my signature across the napkin with the pen he holds out, then pass it back.
“Here you go.”
“Helluva favor, Mr. Saint. You’re a real inspiration and a class act, too.”
“I try. Thanks.” I hope like hell it ends there.
But one quick look around shows me he’s not the only one staring at us.
Behind him, there’s a kid with a baseball cap, his mouth hanging open. He offers me the hat without a word, his little face turning red.
“Dude, you’re Kane Saint? You’re my brother’s favorite! He’s off at college, so uh, would you sign it? If you don’t mind…”
It’s a frigging baseball cap.
How thehelldid my cover get blown here of all places?
As I sign the hat for the boy mechanically, Margot scrolls on her phone, her face suddenly pale.
“Um, Kane?” The moment the kid leaves, she shows me the screen.
