“Never thought there was.”
“Uh-huh. Neither did Delilah. Not really. But it can be hard trying to erase those final film images from your mind. Especially when they’re meant to look hot.” Emma’s eyes lit with wry humor. “When you see the reality, how awkward it is, all the crew hovering about, it helps.”
“Does it bother you? Doing those scenes?”
“The nudity? Yes and no. I felt safe and respected on the set. They keep it closed, with only a few key people on hand. But it was never a fully comfortable experience. And there’s a certain creep factor with some fans that I don’t enjoy.”
My hackles raised so fast it was a miracle I didn’t snarl. The thought of her being harassed made me want to tear things with my bare hands. “You haven’t been . . . hurt or—”
“No,” she assured gently, like she had to soothe me, when I should be the one comforting her. “Nothing like that. Nothing past the occasional leer and the foolish decision early on to read social media comments.” She let out a short laugh. “Lesson learned there. For good.”
I hated that she had seen ugliness. But I nodded in perfect understanding and sympathy. “Never read the comments, Em.”
She gave me a sideways look. “I bet you had worse.”
“I don’t know about worse. But I accepted that criticism was part of the life.” I shrugged. “Hockey fans are pretty great. Listening to chucklehead sport commentators who thought they knew what went through my head when I played was more aggravating, to be honest.”
“I bet.” Emma turned off the highway and onto a smaller road that led to the sea. “At any rate, when I consider future roles, unless there’s a really good character-development reason for it, I won’t do nude scenes again.”
My grunt earned a smile, which was what I intended. Emma pulled up to a residential gate, and we were buzzed into the property. Perhaps in deference to the wedding party, a valet met us in the drive. But Macon Saint opened the front door, his expression breaking into a fond smile upon seeing Emma.
“You made it.” He gave her a bear hug, the kind I reserved for Tina, and then let her go to eye me in clear reservation.
The guy was about an inch taller than me and built like Brommy—bulky but all muscle. I could take him, though. I was quick, had a punch like a hammer and . . . well, hell, he was Emma’s friend. Not an opponent on the ice. Didn’t stop me from returning his stare with a deadpan expression.
But strangely, his reserve dropped, and he smiled. “Luc Osmond?”
“That’s me.”
“Holy shit, man.” He offered his hand. “Huge fan.”
I used to get off on things like this. Fandom. Knowing someone supported me and my team. Now I felt like an imposter. But I shook his hand back. “Likewise.”
“Man, that game against Toronto—”
“Where’s your lovely bride, Saint?” Emma cut in brightly, giving a good impression of someone who really didn’t want to hear a couple of guys talk sports but was pretending to be clueless about it. I knew, however, she was trying to protect me.
It was a strange sensation, having someone read me so well. I wasn’t sure if I liked it or if I was afraid I’d never get it back when she drifted out of my life. Either way, Saint got the message and stepped back to let us farther into the airy front hall of the house.
“In the kitchen, terrorizing her catering staff.”
“I heard that,” a southern drawl rang out. A second later, a curvy woman with light-brown hair and eyes the color of brûlée strolled up to us. She gave Saint a reproachful look that didn’t dull the affection in her eyes. “I do not terrorize my staff.”
He wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her close. “Whatever you say, Tot.”
The woman pursed her lips but turned her attention to Emma. “Hey! I’m so glad you’re here.”
They hugged before Emma introduced her to me. “Lucian, this is Delilah. Dee, this is Lucian Osmond.”
“Luc Osmond,” Saint said to Delilah with emphasis. “Hockey center for Washington.”
Delilah slid him a look that said she had no idea why he had to put that part in, and I bit back a laugh.
I took her hand. “Nice to meet you both. Thank you for letting me attend your wedding.”
“We’re happy to have you.” Delilah had that whole southern-hostess thing going on and gave me a wide polite smile. But it didn’t meet her eyes. I had no idea what she saw in me, but clearly both she and Saint were protective of Emma. Since I was, too, I approved, even if the distrust was in my direction.
Delilah turned to Macon. “North is looking for you. I’ll take Emma and Luc—” She glanced at me. “Or is it Lucian?”