I stare around the dark room. It’s too quiet here. I’m so used to the sound of a tour bus and the rocking as I doze off that it takes me a while to get used to the whole stationary-sleeping thing. I can’t get used to the quiet, or the cold, for that matter. Van offered to light the fireplace in my room, but I didn’t think I’d need it with the mountain of blankets he gave me. Turns out, I know nothing about Canada. Or how to keep warm. Though I guess that’s not quite true. I could always heat things up by climbing into bed with the scorching-hot NHL player down the hall, but I’m not sure that would send the right impression.
I have to do something, though, because I am freezing. My teeth chatter so loudly I’m surprised the noise hasn’t woken everyone up.
I throw back the covers and discover it’s far too cold to go without them, so I wrap the blanket around me and open my door. Van’s bedroom sits at the opposite end of the hall, and it’s as if I can feel the body heat radiating off him through the closed door. I take a few steps toward his room, but I can’t do that. I can’t go and climb into a complete stranger’s bed just to keep from freezing. Instead, I head toward the den. The light from the fire draws me like a moth to a flame. I scurry down the stairs and plonk myself right in front. Slowly, the flames begin to thaw me from head to toe.
Moments later, I’m beginning to drift off, sitting upright. I pull the blanket tightly around my body and lie on the floor. A clamor from outside jolts me awake and I shoot up, preparing to run, terrified someone’s going to break in. There’s a scratching noise, followed by a guttural growl. A large shadow covers the window. I take a step toward it, thinking it must be a fallen tree branch but it turns around and stares me straight in the eyes. A huge muzzle opens, the beast unleashes another roar, and the window rattles. A hand slips over my mouth so I can’t scream, and I stumble back into a wall of muscle.
“Shh. You’ll scare Smokey. He probably hasn’t even seen you yet, but he can hear you, and he can likely smell you,” Van whispers.
“You have a pet grizzly bear?” I say once the monster with the enormous claws steps off the porch with a huff.
He chuckles. “No, he just comes by every season to see what he can scavenge. I’ve never seen him this late in the year, but bear sightings are more frequent when we have an unseasonably warm fall. Emmett sometimes leaves food out deliberately. I don’t think he understands that Old Smokey there could break down our door and tear us both to shreds in our sleep. I haven’t had to put a bullet in him yet, though, thankfully.”
“Who? Your brother or the bear?”
He chuckles. “The bear. Come on, I’ll switch on some outside lights and he’ll head off.”
“Oh my god, why did I have to pick Canada to get lost in?”
“You want something to drink?” he says, as he moves through the house. I keep my eyes firmly glued to the naked chest as he walks on ahead of me so I don’t stumble on anything.
“Do you have hot cocoa?”
He laughs. “Ah, country. You’re like a breath of fresh air.”
“What?”
“I meant something alcoholic.”
I shake my head. “Hell no. I am not touching another drop of hard liquor ever again.”
“It’d warm your insides and put hair on your chest.”
“I’m not sure a hairy chest is really the type of look I’m going for.”
“No, I don’t suppose it would be. Besides, it’d be a shame to cover those up.”
“Excuse me?” I say incredulously and hide my boobs by crossing my arms over the goods.
“Hot cocoa it is.” He smirks and turns on the kitchen light, momentarily blinding us both.
“So, is there any other wildlife I should know about?”
“Well, that depends. Emmett turns into a werewolf on a full moon, but aside from that, the only wildlife you need to worry about is a bite from my anaconda.”
“That’s all, huh?”
“It’s a pretty big snake,” he assures me, as he pulls a container of cocoa from the cupboard along with a bag of mini mellows.
“Isn’t that what they all say?”
“No, really. I can show you if you like? It’s like Pringles-can big.”
“Oh my god. No! Keep your pants on.”
“Okay, but you asked. I was just trying to get you acclimatized to the locals.”
I open several cupboards until I find the mugs and remove two from the shelf, setting them down on the counter before him. “You’ve taken a lot of hits to the head in your career, haven’t you?”
“Sadly, yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m delusional about the size of my dick.”
“Can we please just not talk about this?”
He pours the milk into a metal pan and slowly heats it on the stove. “What would you rather talk about?”
“Why does Canadian milk come in a bag?”
“Seriously? That’s what you want to discuss?”
I shrug and lean against the counter, watching him work. “I’m curious.”
“Do you see my milk in a bag?”
“No, but when I was in Ontario ’most all of the milk was.”
“Then why didn’t you ask an Ontarian?” he deadpans and then adds, “I don’t know, because of the change to the metric system, or it’s better for the environment or some shit.”
“You know what’s not good for the environment? A Hummer. Did you know they produce more greenhouse emissions than any other vehicle?”
“Hey, leave the beast out of this.”
I roll my eyes and fish a couple of spoons out of the top drawer. “So, is it just you and Emmett, then?”
“Our mom lives in Calgary. Emmett stays with her three out of seven nights. More if I have to play a series of away games.”
“And your dad?”
“Is an asshole. Not even worth talking about.” Van carefully pours the warm milk into both mugs while I stir.
“Oh, sorry.”
“It’s fine. He took off a couple days after Emmett was born. He couldn’t handle the fact that he had an ‘imperfect’ son.”
“Wow, that’s . . . What a dick.” Van’s brows shoot skyward. I slap my hand over my mouth. “Sorry, that was really rude of me.”
“No, he is a dick.” He hands me a cup of hot chocolate. “You want marshmallows?”
“Of course. What kind of question is that?”
“Well, you don’t eat meat—which would have been nice to know before I served you barbecued beef ribs by the way—so I don’t know what kind of soulless freak you are. I didn’t want to be rude.”
I roll my eyes and wait for him to sprinkle some of those tiny marshmallows on top. “You don’t have Cool Whip, do you?
“I’m Canadian, not a monster.” He takes the Cool Whip from the fridge and sprays both our mugs with it until they look less like hot chocolates and more like mountains of fluffy cream and sugary goodness. “So, what about you, Stella? Is there a Ma and Pa Hart that I might someday get to meet?”
All the wind rushes out of my sails, and tears sting my eyes. It’s stupid—I’ve been on my own now for years, but I’d give anything to be able to feel her arms around me again. “No. I mean, there was. Obviously. My mom died not long after my career took off.”
“Holy shit, that must have been hell. We’re you close?”
“Yeah, we were. It was always just the two of us.”
“Did your dad die, too?”
“No, he’s still very much alive. He comes from old money, good name, and all that. Turns out he was okay screwing a cocktail waitress, just not okay with marrying someone like her when he knocked her up.”
“Ah, shit. I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “Dads, huh?”
“Yeah, they can be assholes.”
I follow him over to the seat by the fireplace and sit. There are several other chairs here, and I’d probably be a lot more comfortable with some distance between us, but I don’t want to be rude. Besides, he brought the Cool Whip with him, and I’ll be damned if I let him eat it all.
“So, you still haven’t told me what you’re running from.”
“Nothing,” I say too quickly. He gives me a look that says he isn’t buying it. “Everything. I don’t know exactly.”
He nods like a sage. “And the panic attacks?”
“I’ve always had them. Ever since I signed my first deal. Of course, they were never this bad. I don’t really know what’s changed. I guess a sixty-city tour and back-to-back albums will do that to you. I can’t remember the last time I had a day off.”
“Well, I know this might sound strange, considering we only just met twenty-four hours ago when I pulled you from a frozen car, but you’re welcome to stay at Lodge Ross as long as you want. Don’t want to go back to work next week, or the week after? No problem. You take as many days as you need here. Rest, recoup, soak in the hot tub.”
“I don’t have a swim-suit.”
“That’s fine. We’re not clothesists here.”
I laugh. “You know that’s not a word, right?”
“Emmett and I will pick up some things for you as soon as the roads are clear.”
“I can’t ask you to do that. I mean, you’d be keeping it secret from the world, not to mention they’ve probably already tracked my car.” I can’t do this. I can’t hide out in a stranger’s house until I feel strong enough to go back to my everyday life. Can I? No. That’s ridiculous.
There are already so many consequences to my actions. Venues that still need to be paid, even though Lana likely would have cancelled the more recent upcoming shows. I have a huge staff of road crew to take care of. Oh my god, I can’t be here. I can’t . . .
I don’t realize I’m hyperventilating until Van lays his huge palm on my back and rubs in slow circles.
“Hey, just breathe.”
Heat claws at my cheeks, and I want to scratch and peel my skin away. I do as he instructs and close my eyes. Van continues the lazy circles on my back, and I feel the tension slowly drain out of me. He’s an awfully good distraction.
“I have someone who can get rid of your car for us at first light.”
I open my eyes. “I thought you said the roads were closed?”
He sets his mug down on the table with a waggle of his brows and stands, holding his hands out to me. “Come on. Let’s go light your fire.”
I narrow my gaze on him, but I can’t help but feel a stupid little flutter in my lady parts as I take his warm hand.
Oh, I think it’s already lit.
With my hand in his, I follow him out of the room, and just like that I find myself a guest at Lodge Ross, and I’m not sure I’ll ever want to leave.