“You weren’t just a hockey player. You were famous.”
“Unfortunately. Nothing worse than having a name folks recognize, but I think you know something about that.”
“Um, yeah. She also mentioned Daria.” I say the name carefully, watching his face. “And she said you worked for a place calledOptiSynth.”
That last word does it. His playful half smile flattens into a hard line of war and his face goes rigid.
“What else?” he growls. “She’s at that age where kids love to overshare.”
“Nothing bad, dude. Relax.” I step closer. “You don’t need to hide so much about your life. I’m not here to judge you.”
“Like you already have? You’re not stupid, Margot. I’m guessing you’ve found out what you needed to.”
“Well, I Googled you,” I admit sheepishly.
That whisper of a smile returns for a second, accenting his lush green eyes. “Hell, I’m just surprised you waited and didn’t dive in the first night.”
“I didn’t know you were a star then. You should be proud of your career.”
He snorts loudly.
“Nah. That part of my life’s over and I can’t say I miss it.” He shakes his head. “You hurt my feelings the first day. Couldn’t believe you’d never heard the name Kane Saint.”
“I don’t follow sports obsessively,” I say, patting his arm in false reassurance. “But you could’ve said something. It’s cool knowing we have an ice king in the house.”
“Formerice king,” he says dryly. “Like I said, that’s over and done with.”
“Never coming back for an encore?”
“Not after you retire,” he says. “As Sophie pointed out, I’m an old dude now. They wouldn’t have me back even if I tried.”
“You sure? You mean you’d never show up for younger players or charity?” I know how demanding professional sports can be, and how it’s not meant to be a lifelong career.
But when I take a good, long look at him, he’s strong. Big and fit and honed.
If he’s lost any of his former superpowers on the rink, it doesn’t show one bit in that punishing body.
“I’m sure. It’s not the chapter of my life I want to revisit. I’d rather be dead than turn into one of those guys who never shuts up about the ‘good old days.’ Like life just ended the day I hung up my stick. You start talking like that, you’ll believe it, and then you really are boned.”
Wise man.
His gaze sharpens, and I do my very best to keep the admiration off my face.
“I left hockey and that’s that. There’s nothing else to know.”
“Okay, okay. No fame and fortune for you. Got it.” I grab his dishes from mixing and place them in the sink to soak. “Maybe someday people will finally stop recognizing you, too.”
“That’s the hope,” he clips.
Man.
I desperately want to ask about the company he helped found after his sports career, but I can tell he’s on edge.
His voice seems wary, on edge, and I like his easy, whimsical side too much.
“Probably a shit idea hanging around you if I want to keep a low profile,” he jokes. “Everyone in Sully Bay knows who you are, huh?”
“Well, yeah. I used to come here a lot.”
