“Goddamn nancy-pants. I’d love to rearrange his Chiclets and see how arrogant he is without his front teeth.”
She could bring up that several of her father’s teeth were implanted ceramic and titanium. Instead she wanted to know, “How’s my Yum Yum?”
“You and little dogs.” She knew him and knew he was shaking his head as he talked about her Chinese crested. He refused to say her dog’s name and called her “naked nancy-pants” instead.
“You gave me my first little dog,” she reminded him. “Remember Pongo?”
“Of course. He shook and was pathetic and got me into trouble with your mother.”
Pongo had been her first teacup Chihuahua and had loved her dad. Despite her father’s claim to the contrary, his dislike of “nancy-pants” dogs was just a front to hide the soft spot in his heart.
“You should have named him Trouble,” he said about the dog who’d followed him around like a groupie. Despite being called a nancy-pants and worse, Pongo had loved her dad, and the day Pongo died, she didn’t know who had been more torn up, her or Dad. “In fact, you should have named all your dogs Trouble for all the chaos they cause.” He paused, then added, “Look, Lexie, you’re too nice. And you’re impulsive and you have a big heart and that gets you into all sorts of hot water. You get that from your mother.”
She wasn’t impulsive anymore. “Where is Mom?” Well, except for lately.
“You know your mother, no reporter is going to make her hide. She’s taken Jon Jon to school, where I’m sure he’s going to get razzed like crazy. But he’s tough; he can take it.”
Her father had a big heart, too, she knew. He was just really good at hiding it. After several more moments, she ended the call. She needed to call her mother. She could get her on her cell phone, but she wanted a few moments of calm before she undertook another emotional conversation. Of her two parents, her mother would be harder on her. Never mind that she’d also run from her own wedding years earlier.
Lexie deserved it after what she’d just put them through, but that didn’t mean she looked forward to the disappointment that she was sure to hear in her mother’s soft Southern voice. Not disappointment that she hadn’t gotten married, but disappointment that she was in a big mess.
Lexie tossed the phone on the bed and thought about her current situation. Was her dad right? Was she too nice? Well, she did hate to hurt people and sometimes put others’ feelings before her own.
She lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. She felt an urge to run even as she wanted to crawl beneath the covers and hide. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. She needed to clear her head and calm her nerves, and she stared up at the ceiling. Her gaze focused on what looked like a jellyfish stamped in the texture. Next, she picked out a tailless shark, a cat’s paw, and a deer with seven legs. Her nerves and mind settled enough for her to think about her current situation, what she’d done and how she’d ended up in a hotel room in Sandspit, British Columbia. She didn’t have to think very hard. Most of the time it came down to the same thing.
Lexie Kowalsky was a people pleaser. She’d made bad decisions and stayed in bad relationships out of the fear of disappointing anyone. This time she hadn’t wanted to disappoint the producers of a reality show or Peter Dalton or millions of Gettin’ Hitched fans. Her fear often made her stuff down her own feelings. Marie called her an “emotional cutter.”
Lexie didn’t know if she’d go that far, but she did know that several contradictions fought within her.
Responsible. a. Flighty.
Loved an organized plan. a. Too impulsive.
Passive people pleaser. a. Extremely competitive.
Hated to lose. a. But loved a sportsmanship trophy.
Her competitive side had encouraged her to run faster, play harder, and hip-check the other Gettin’ Hitched brides. Normally she would have felt horrible about “accidentally” bouncing a football off Whitney Sue’s head during the pigskin challenge, but her sights had been set on winning a romantic date with Pete. A date that had been anything but romantic, not with a film crew inches from her face.
Pete. She didn’t want to think about him, and her gaze searched the ceiling until she picked out what looked like an ant jumping off a rock. She hated to think that he’d actually loved her. The thought made her heart pound and her nerves jump, and she needed more than concentrating on random patterns in the texture to keep her brain occupied.
She sat up and grabbed the shampoo off the bed. Her hair was sticky and gross from last night and she moved to the small bathroom. Jimmy had forgotten conditioner, and for a split second she thought about running to the store. She needed good conditioner to keep her hair from going ashy, but the thought of being spotted shoved the thought from her head.
She turned on the shower and unbuttoned the shirt Sean had given her. The soft fabric smelled woodsy with a hint of musk, and slid down her bare shoulders and back to land at her feet. She stepped out of her white panties and took them in the shower with her, washing them with the thin bar of hotel soap before hanging them over the rod. As warm water spilled from the shower and ran through her hair, she thought of everything waiting for her at home, especially the love of her life, Yum Yum. No matter what, she could always count on the love in her little dog’s eyes.
The first time she’d seen the Chinese crested had been two years ago when she’d dropped off food at the Emerald City Pet Rescue. It had been impossible not to notice the bald little dog with black skin and white dots. White hair stuck out of her ears, and her tail and paws were covered in long hair. She shook as if cold, and her black eyes had been filled with pain and sadness.
Lexie was not only a sucker for dogs, she was a complete sap for anything sick and helpless. Yum Yum was both.
The six-month-old puppy yelped when she walked, and rather than deal with her luxating patella, her owners had dropped her off at the shelter instead of paying the two grand to fix her congenital defect. Lexie had gladly scooped up the little dog and paid for the surgery. She helped rehabilitate the puppy and told her repeatedly that she was yummy to give her a much-needed dose of self-esteem. She’d made her clothes to keep her warm and built ramps that looked like fashion runways to help minimize the abuse to her knees.
From those simple beginnings, she’d started Yum Yum’s Closet, her online specialty pet supply business that she operated out of her apartment. Two years later, her business had tripled and her designs were now manufactured by a small-batch company in Marysville. She’d chosen a space for a retail store and was in the process of picking out paint and wallpaper.
Lexie lathered her hair with shampoo and washed her body. It felt good to scrub away the last bit of makeup and mousse left over from the day before. After the shower, she wrapped herself in a towel and walked back into the room. The television continued without sound, water dripped from her hair, and her stomach rumbled, reminding her of how little she’d eaten in the past twenty-four hours. She wasn’t one of those girls who picked at her salad but never really ate. Like her mother, she loved to cook and kept the pounds off her butt and thighs with routine exercise. A frown pulled at the corners of her lips as she looked at the Tastykakes and ginger ale on the bed. She was either going to pass out from hunger or go mental.
Perhaps both. Jimmy had said something about a waffle house, and the thought of blueberry waffles and maple syrup made her feel even more faint with hunger. Bacon and eggs and coffee. Real coffee. Not the weak stuff from the four-cup brewer in the hotel room.
She glanced from the Tastykakes to the television. Maybe while she’d been in the shower, the country had lost interest in her. Maybe she could sneak out of her room and gorge on waffles and bacon. Maybe she wasn’t trapped inside room seven after all.
The intro to the fourth hour of the Today show played across the screen as the camera zoomed in for a tighter shot of Hoda and Kathie Lee sitting behind a glass table. Just below the hosts’ names on the lower third, the ticker read: Whe
re in the world is the Gettin’ Hitched bride?
“Welcome, everyone,” Kathie Lee began. “It’s giveaway Friday, and we’re giving viewers the opportunity to win a trip to Cancun.”
“To enter,” Hoda added, “call the number below and let us know if you’ve had a Lexie Kowalsky sighting.”
Or maybe not.
Chapter 5
•love at first sight deserves a second look
“It’s not working.”
Lexie Kowalsky jumped like someone had stuck a pin in her. Beneath the bill of a ridiculous hat, she raised her deep blue gaze. “What?”
“If you’re trying to blend in with the locals, it’s not working.” Not when her hair stuck out like straw from beneath a cap that made it look like she had a fish swimming through her head.
“What makes you think I’m trying to blend?” She raised a cup of coffee and blew into it.
And not when, despite the hair and the fish, she looked good enough to spread on the table and eat. “I talked to Jimmy before he left.” Sean took the chair across from her at the Waffle Hut. “I hear people are taking a whole lot of interest in looking for you.” He’d also seen the whole cast of The View talking about her at his mother’s house just before he’d escaped her nonstop health complaints.
As a couple of tourists walked past in parkas and rubber fishing boots, Lexie ducked her face and reached up as if adjusting the bill of her cap. “There’s a Cancun vacation from Hoda and Kathie Lee at stake.” With her hand covering the side of her face, she asked, “Are you going to rat me out?”
“No.”
“Thank you.” She pushed her hair over her shoulders and sighed as if relieved by his answer.
“I’ve been to Cancun many times.” He lowered his gaze as a lock of her hair slid back over her shoulder and rested against the fish on her T-shirt. The Spirit of Sandspit sculpture was the pride of the community and one of the first things tourists saw when they landed at the airport, but stretched across her big breasts, the salmon looked more like a whale. “It’s not my favorite vacation destination.”
A waitress approached, and Sean paused as she set down a plate of waffles and bacon and a little pitcher of syrup.
“Can I get ya anything, Sean?” she asked.
The woman wore a sleeveless fleece over a red turtleneck and looked at him through glasses sitting a little crooked on her face. He was sure she was a friend of his mother’s, but he couldn’t recall her name. It was past noon and he ordered a Molson to take the edge off the pounding in his head. His gaze slid to her badge. “Thank you, Louise.”
“My pleasure.” She glanced at the top of Lexie’s fish cap. “Can I bring you anything else?”
“Coffee, please.”
He continued their conversation as he watched Louise walk away. “Now, if someone offers a trip to Cozumel . . .” He returned his gaze to Lexie. “That’s a whole different ball game. I’d have to turn you in for a chance at a Cozumel vacation.”
“Seriously?”
No. “Yep. There’s a little bar on the southern tip of the island that serves the coldest beer, cranks the best reggae, and encourages the women to go topless.”
A disapproving frown pulled at the corners of her full kiss-me-baby lips as her long fingers with short, pale pink nails wrapped around the syrup. “Classy.”
“This from the woman who chased pigs on national television.”
“And won.” She drizzled syrup into the deep waffle squares. “Without getting very muddy, I might add.”
He sat back and folded his arms over his chest covered in a gray Henley. “I wouldn’t know about the mud. I never watched the show.”
She set the pitcher on the table and glanced at him. “Then how do you know about the pig?”
“I saw it on a commercial.”
She placed a paper napkin on her lap, then picked up her fork and knife to slice off a piece of waffle. One bite and she sighed. Her eyes closed and the corners of her lips lifted as if she was in heaven. “Mmmm. So good.” Or having an orgasm. Damn.
She swallowed and her eyes opened. “You never watched the show?”
“No,” he answered as the waitress set his beer on the table.
“How’s your mama doin’ with that leaky pancreas?” the waitress asked.
Sean just smiled like he always did and looked up into the woman’s face, probably aged beyond her years by the harsh, salty air. “Better.”
“She must be in a world of pain.”
“I believe she’ll make a complete recovery.” Like always.
“Last time I saw her, it was . . .” Louise paused in momentary thought. “Geez, it was probably at the trade show this past October. She mentioned she might be moving to the States with you.”
Which was why he was in Sandspit. To make sure she didn’t.
“She just can’t take the winters. Poor thing.” Louise’s eyes pinched at the corners like she was trying to figure out why the woman eating like a lumberjack seemed familiar.
“She sure is proud of you.”
Sean watched Louise watch Lexie. The top half of Lexie’s face was hidden from Louise’s view beneath the bill of a fish hat. “I’ll tell Mother you asked about her.”
“Okay.” Louise’s brows lowered and she turned to leave. “Enjoy.”
Sean glanced over his shoulder as she walked away. “I’m sure she didn’t recognize you.” He turned back to Lexie, her head still ducked.
He watched her mouth as she asked, “How sure?”
“Fairly.”
“That’s not very reassuring.” Slowly she lifted her face, the brim sliding up her cheeks and nose to her deep blue eyes. “What’s a leaky pancreas?”
Fiction. “She doesn’t have a leaky pancreas. Louise is mistaken.” He reached for his beer and took a drink.
“What’s wrong with her?”
Sean shrugged and lowered the glass. “We were talking about you and that idiotic show,” he said to change the subject away from his mother’s pretend illness.
“I never should have gone on that stupid show.” She dabbed her mouth with the paper napkin and reached for her coffee. “I should have figured out some other way to get national exposure for Yum Yum’s Closet.” She sliced off a bite of waffle and put it in her mouth.
That’s right. Through the blur of a pouf and gauze, he recalled her mentioning something about a dog clothes business last night. “Sounds more like you never should have won.”
She lifted one shoulder in agreement and placed a napkin in her lap. “I’m supercompetitive.” She took a bite of waffle and chewed. A drop of syrup rested on her bottom lip.
That’s what he’d heard about her. He watched the drop for several seconds before the tip of her tongue licked it away.
“I come by it naturally, on my dad’s side. He used to play hockey for the Seattle Chinooks and had a reputation for scoring goals and fighting.”
He knew that, and it was part of the reason he’d sought her out.
“His name is John Kowalsky. If you live in Seattle, you might have heard of him.”
“Most people have heard of John.” He’d had his first ass-chewing from the coach the very same week he’d moved to Seattle and put on his Chinooks jersey. He’d scored a hat trick against the Sharks, and the coach had pulled him into his office to bitch at him. “Goddamn it, Knox,” he’d said with his finger in Sean’s face. “This is a team sport. Your cocky showboating is disrespectful as fuck!” Sean had heard it before, but he had the skill to back it up, and the fans loved it when he rode his stick after scoring a goal. Just three nights ago, Kowalsky had chewed his ass again. He’d scored the winning goal in the last five seconds of the game, and had ridden his stick from one end of the ice to the other.
“A lot of people look up to my dad.” Lexie took another bite and swallowed.
“He’s a hockey great.” Sean would give him that.
“Yeah. He’s a great guy, too.”
He probably wouldn’
t go that far.
“His heart is just a big marshmallow.”
He definitely wouldn’t go that far.
“Unless you get on his bad side.” She stabbed another piece of waffle. “He’ll come at you hard if you get on his bad side.” She paused in thought as she chewed. “But that rarely happens. A person has to do something really offensive, like steal from poor people.” She reached for her coffee. “When I was ten, he actually caught a guy trying to steal from a Salvation Army bucket. So he put him in a headlock and fed him his lunch.” She raised the cup and added as she blew into the coffee, “He hates cocky showboating about as much as I hate dog beaters.” She set her cup on the table and looked across at him. “You never did mention what you do for a living.”
He was on the same level as a dog beater? “Nothing as exciting as chasing pigs and running away from weddings.” He took a drink of his beer and sucked the foam from his top lip. Last night, her cluelessness about him had seemed kind of funny. Like an inside joke. Not to mention a few extra hours before he had a conversation with John about a certain wedding dress and flying buttons. In the light of day, not so funny. He’d sought her out today to tell her that he was a Chinook. It wasn’t a secret and she was bound to find out. He’d looked for her today to tell her and because there were parts of last night she might not want her dad to know about. He would be willing to help her out because he was a nice guy, but now she’d called him a thieving, dog-beating showboat, and he didn’t feel like helping her or telling her shit. “What do your folks think of you being the runaway Gettin’ Hitched bride?”
“Not happy. Mortified. Worried.” She looked away and took a bite. “Once my dad got over his initial blowup, he was okay. But my mom . . .” She shrugged a shoulder. “She’s happy that I didn’t marry Pete, but she’s hurt that I didn’t come to her instead of running away.”
The Art of Running in Heels Page 5