“Sean,” his mother said just above a whisper.
He turned his attention to his mother and sat on the end of the sofa beside her chair. “What?”
“Do you know who she is?”
“Certainly.”
“She’s the Gettin’ Hitched bride. I was all set to watch the ceremony last night, only she ran away.” She pointed at him. “With you.”
“Not exactly. We were on the same plane.”
“You stole her from Pete!”
“No I didn’t.”
“You stole the Gettin’ Hitched bride!”
That’s why his mother hadn’t mentioned it right away. She thought they were together. Like a couple. “You’re wrong. It’s not what you’re imagining. We met on the plane last night.”
She placed a hand on her chest like she was about to have a heart attack. “Hand me the phone. I need to call Hoda and Kathie Lee.”
“You don’t want to go to Cancun. You don’t even have a passport.”
“I could get one. Quick, I need to call NBC.”
The thought of the world finding out that Lexie was with him, in his mother’s house, was frightening. “You can’t do that.” The sound of pots and pans drew his attention to the kitchen, then back again. While his mother would love that chaos, he would not. “You can’t call Hoda and Kathie Lee.”
“You’re right. Wendy Williams is offering a trip to Disney World in Orlando, Florida.” She stuck a finger beneath her cap and scratched her head. “I’d get a passport to go to the Magic Kingdom. I’d love to see that Cinderella’s Castle and maybe ride in a riverboat.”
“Since when?”
“Since I’d get to talk to Wendy and get a free trip to boot.”
He believed her. She’d jump from her chair and claw her way to the nearest airport for a chance to see Wendy and wreak havoc. He didn’t want that to happen for several very good reasons. First, the discovery of the Gettin’ Hitched bride would bring a mass of news crews and hordes of paparazzi to his mother’s front door. He could see himself standing between his mother in her cranial cap and Lexie in her fish hat, news camera rolling and cameras flashing, trying to look like the sane one. Second, the thought of his mother sitting on Wendy’s couch talking about her latest ailments gave him the same kind of red-faced anxiety as it had as a kid. He’d never known which mother would show up at the hockey games. The relatively normal mother or the one with the battery-powered heating pad, talking about her menstrual cramps. Or worse, the one exaggerating his own sickness, making chicken pox sound like MRSA. He’d been powerless to stop her then. He was an adult now. A hockey player who routinely took hard hits against the boards and returned the favor with a roundhouse punch to the face.
When Sean Knox stepped on the ice, he owned it. He was in control. Off the ice, he owned that, too. He was in control—except when it came to his mother. No one but his uncle Abe had possessed the ability to control his mother. He’d been the only person she’d even listened to, but he’d died two years ago and she was more out of control than ever.
“You can’t tell anyone.”
She stared hard in his eyes and jabbed a finger at him. “Why do you care? She’s not your girlfriend. You said you didn’t steal her from Pete.” Her gaze narrowed as if she was looking for any reason to call BS. “You just met her last night.”
He frowned and his eyeballs pinched. Again he thought of standing between both women wearing stupid hats, strobes flashing and cameras rolling. His entire brain squeezed as he forced himself to say, “Okay. You were right. I stole her from Pete.”
“Ha. Wait till I tell Wanda about this!” His mother crowed as she actually rubbed her hands together. “This is so much better than her son marrying Miss Maple Leaf, 2012. She’s been lording that over my head for five years now.”
Fuck! He didn’t know which hurt worse, the pain in his brain or in his eyeballs. God, somehow last night’s little ha-ha joke had turned into a full-blown secret. “You can’t call anyone. Not Hoda or Wendy or Wanda.” His brain. His brain definitely hurt worse. “We can’t have that kind of attention on us right now.”
“Humph.” She crossed her arms, clearly disappointed that she couldn’t lord her news over Wanda’s head. “What does your coach think about all this? One of his very own hockey players stealing his daughter on national TV?”
How in the hell had this happened? “He doesn’t know yet.” He wasn’t a liar. “Lexie doesn’t know yet.”
“Lexie doesn’t know you stole her from Pete?” She looked at him like he was the crazy one in the room. “I’m confused.”
She wasn’t the only one. “Of course she knows that.” He didn’t like secrets as much as he didn’t like lies. Mostly because he sucked at keeping them all straight, but here he was, smack in the middle of both. “Kowalsky doesn’t know Lexie is with me, and Lexie doesn’t know I play hockey for the Chinooks.” It was always best to go with the truth, and those two things were the truth. “And you can’t talk about it.”
“Are you okay, son?” She put her hand on his knee. “Did you get hit in the head without your helmet?”
It felt like it. Like a butt hit to the forehead.
“You need some Xanax.”
Great. His mother was prescribing medication.
“Or maybe I need the Xanax. I’m confused.” She reached for a prescription bottle on the TV tray next to her. “How could she not know you play hockey for the Chinooks?”
“She’s been out of town filming that stupid show since I was traded.” He shrugged. “Maybe because I played for Pittsburgh and she doesn’t pay attention to players from other teams. Maybe I look different without my helmet. I don’t know for sure, but she doesn’t even seem to recognize my name.” But even the truth had this whole thing spiraling into chaos. “Kowalsky doesn’t like me very much.” His mother still looked doubtful, and he added, “Lexie isn’t real bright. She has a lot of good qualities, but her attic’s a little dusty.”
“God compensates special people.” His mother smiled like a sudden flush of romance made her all warm inside. “You must really love her.”
Sean avoided chaos. He hated shit storms. He was responsible for both. He didn’t know quite how it had happened or how to stop it.
“You kidnapped her from Pete and right from under her dad’s nose, too.”
Kidnap? Love her? From under her dad’s nose?
Geraldine sighed. “She must be your soul mate.”
Good Lord! Soul mate? He tried to speak but couldn’t find the words. He didn’t know her. He wasn’t even sure he liked her. “Yeah. That’s it,” he lied.
“Then I won’t call Wendy or say a word to Wanda.” She lifted a pretend key and locked her lips. “For now,” she said out of one corner of her mouth. “Even though I’m about to bust.”
He wasn’t sure she wouldn’t bust the moment he turned his back. Not when a chance at the Wendy show and national attention dangled in front of her like a tantalizing illness. “Lexie probably needs help,” he managed as he stood. He fought the urge to run. To get the hell out of his mother’s crazy house. “Yell if you need anything,” he said over his shoulder as he walked from the room. Only he couldn’t run from the crazy he’d brought to the house with him.
Lexie stood at the kitchen sink, and if she hadn’t looked up and smiled, he might have hopped the ferry to Prince Rupert. From there, he’d catch a flight to Seattle or Pittsburgh. The team was on the road and he’d much rather get a shot to the cup than be anywhere near Sandspit.
The bright sun bounced off the snow outside, cut a blinding trail through the window, and caught in Lexie’s hair. The fish hat lay on the counter, and she turned her attention to meat she placed in a hot pan on the stove. “I’m making Asian pork tenderloin I found in the refrigerator. It’ll taste so good, Geraldine won’t even know she’s eating healthy,” she said as she put a lid on the pan. “I’ll make simple hoisin and a yummy cucumber salad.”
Sean glanced over
his shoulder at his mother and the sharp rise in her brow. Despite the invisible lock and key, she needed convincing. He took a cheese grater from Lexie’s hand and tossed it on the counter.
“Why did you do that?” She turned toward him and lifted her gaze to his, confusion pulling at her brows.
“This is crazy.”
“I know! I need that to shred the cucumber.”
He slid his hand around her waist to the small of her back. “If you don’t want my mother to call The Wendy Williams Show for a chance at her dream vacation, make this look good.”
“What?”
“This.” He pulled her against his chest and slowly lowered his face to hers. “Kiss me like you mean it, Lexie,” he whispered against her mouth.
She sucked in a small breath. “Wendy, too?”
“Wendy, too.” He brushed a soft kiss against her lips, teasing a reaction out of her. Her eyes rounded but she didn’t push away. Her soft breasts rested against his chest, enflaming his body. He kissed her to save her from Wendy and himself from the chaos his mother always created. That was the only reason, he told himself. Her lush mouth parted, and the ache in the pit of his stomach slid between his legs. He struggled to keep the kiss easy even as he craved more. Even as desire smacked his chest and hit the pit of his stomach like a hot ball of lead. He was in control. In control of the chaotic pull making him hard, belying the soft touch of his mouth to hers. Then her hands slipped up his chest, across his shoulder, to the back of his neck. She combed her fingers through his hair, and a shudder worked through him, running down his spine from the back of his skull to his butt. He was tempted. So damn tempted to slide his tongue into her mouth and his hands to her behind, pull her against his hard dick.
All aboard! Lexie’s breast vibrated against his chest. I, I, I, I . . .
Sean dropped his hands and took a deep, cleansing breath. Saved at the last second by Ozzy Osbourne.
Chapter 6
•love me tonight
If you don’t want my mother to call The Wendy Williams Show for a chance at her dream vacation, make this look good. That was the reason Sean had given her for the kiss. That was the reason she’d told herself not to push him away, but later in her hotel room that night, Lexie knew that wasn’t completely true. She hadn’t pushed him away because she’d liked the way his lips felt pressed to hers. Rock-hard lust, constrained with gossamer kisses.
Wearing a towel around her head and one covering her body, Lexie raised Sean’s flannel shirt to her face. It smelled of Chanel perfume—left over from the wedding escapade—and woodsy musk, the scent she’d now come to associate with him. She buried her nose in the armpits and determined they didn’t stink. She pulled on the panties she’d washed the day before and a new pair of black leggings Jimmy had provided.
When Sean had dropped her off last night, they’d agreed that he’d pick her up at eight a.m. because Geraldine Brown needed to be charmed one more day.
“She likes talking to you,” he’d said. Lexie didn’t know if that was true or if he wanted Lexie to talk to his mother so he didn’t have to. She’d noticed tension in him when he was around Geraldine. A tightness in his jaw that hadn’t been there earlier at the Waffle Hut. Either way, she was just happy for something to do other than obsessively watching TV and getting anxiety over the latest Gettin’ Hitched bride news.
Lexie was a natural-born charmer—a talent she’d inherited from her mother’s side—but it hadn’t been difficult to schmooze Geraldine. She mostly just had to listen to the woman’s many complaints and ailments and say “Bless you” at the appropriate times. As a kid, Lexie had been a hypochondriac and could easily spot one in a crowd. She hadn’t had to use her natural ability with Geraldine. The ridiculous cap had been an easy giveaway.
She dried her hair, then lightly applied mascara to the tips of her eyelashes. She loved her mink extensions and felt more presentable after a few swipes of mascara. Just because she was on the run didn’t mean she had to go completely tree hugger.
Once more she shoved her phone, folded cash, and Chap Stick in her corset. Minus a purse or pockets, her bra was the best place to stash necessities. At the age of fifteen, she got her first D bra and discovered that her cleavage could be useful. Now a triple D, the sides of her bras were higher and she could easily stash essentials without too much trouble. The corset she’d put on two days ago was more decorative than functional. The underwire dug into her flesh, but it did have a wide bridge that kept her phone from falling out.
At exactly eight, Sean pulled up in the Subaru and they headed to his mother’s. He hadn’t shaved, and the dark scruff covering the lower half of his face made him appear perfectly sinister. The kind of sinister that cheated death and seduced virgins.
Gloomy clouds hung just above the pine trees, matching the equally gloomy scowl creasing his forehead. Most of the way there, his big hands gripped the steering wheel as if it had done something offensive. He hardly spoke, leaving long lapses of silence that Lexie felt compelled to fill. She told him about Yum Yum and her problems with her knees and the humidity. She talked about the conversation she’d had with her dad earlier.
“The team’s in Pittsburgh tonight,” she said. “My dad hates the Penguins.”
Sean finally spoke. “Why?” He’d managed to muster one word.
“He blames Jaromir Jagr for all the hair gel in the NHL.” She looked across the car, into the gloomy shadows of his gloomy face. “He had to trade two Chinooks for one Penguin, and he told me he doesn’t think the guy is worth his contract.”
“Asshole.”
Calling the Chinooks’ newest sniper an asshole was extreme, but some fans were extreme. “Are you going to be grumpy all day?”
Without taking his eyes from the road, he said, “Probably.”
Lexie gave up, and neither spoke the rest of the way.
Geraldine sat in the same spot as the day before. The cooling cap no longer covered her short dark hair, but the same eyesore afghan covered her. In Lexie’s experience, women who crocheted that many unnatural colors together were generally crazy. That or blind.
Eggs and ham, spinach, and flaxseed bread waited for Lexie in the kitchen. She got to work making a healthy crustless quiche, and toasted the grainy bread. They all ate on faux-wood TV trays straight out of the sixties.
“I can’t wait to see if anyone called in about that trip to Cancun,” Geraldine said between bites. “Or if Wendy—”
“This is really good, Lexie,” Sean interrupted. “We’re grateful.” He looked up and took a drink of coffee. “Isn’t that right, Mother.”
“Beats cornflakes.”
Lexie didn’t know if that was a compliment or not. “Thank you.”
After breakfast, Sean pulled on jogging pants and a Nike sweatshirt before he ran out the door, leaving Lexie to entertain his mother. First up on Geraldine’s list of morning programming:
The Today show. a. Hoda and Kathie Lee.
Santa Diabla.
“I don’t speak much Spanish,” Geraldine confessed, glued to the telenovela. “But Humberto is so handsome and romantic.”
The show opened with a woman crying, the dramatic sound of a beating heart in the background, and Lexie knew it was official now. She was being punished for:
Flunking Spanish class. a. Not a fan of rajas poblanos.
The misunderstanding with the Mexican policía in 2010. a. The dog had looked homeless. She hadn’t tried to steal it.
Blessedly, the telenovela was only a half hour. Next up on Geraldine’s watch list, Wendy Williams.
“How you doin’?” Wendy asked, wearing a tight white dress and fingertip veil. “Let’s head on over to Hot Topics.” She walked across the stage in white stilettos and arranged herself in a lavender velvet chair. “You know my staff loves a theme,” she said through a deep chuckle and arranged the veil about her shoulders.
“I bet you’re up first in Hot Topics,” Geraldine said, the telephone just inches from h
er fingers.
“I appreciate you keeping me a secret for a few days.” Out of the corners of her eyes, Lexie watched the older woman’s hand.
“Let’s get to it,” Wendy said as Lexie’s publicity picture from Gettin’ Hitched appeared on the screen behind Wendy.
“I was right!” Geraldine crowed.
“It’s been a day and a half since Lexie Kowalsky—you know, the Gettin’ Hitched bride—ditched her wedding to poor Pete Dalton. I’ve been told by someone on the set”—she lowered her voice for effect—“they’d planned a big fancy reception at the Fairmont Hotel in Seattle. They were serving prime rib and roasted potatoes infused with rosemary.” She laughed. “You know I love prime rib. Red in the middle with horseradish. Yum!” She went on to name the rest of the menu Lexie and Pete had picked out for their wedding dinner. “Now, I also heard she’s probably hiding out in the UK at the Manchester Dog Show. You know how much she loves dogs. That’s where I’d be. You know I love my Shaq.” A picture of a dog replaced Lexie, and the audience gave a collective “ah.” “If anyone sees the runaway Gettin’ Hitched bride, call me.” Wendy pointed to a pink phone on the table beside her as she went on to describe the all-inclusive trip to Disney World.
Lexie’s stomach twisted into a knot, waiting—waiting for Wendy’s phone to ring. Had she been spotted? Would someone call in? Did anyone know where she was hiding, beyond the woman in the recliner beside her?
“With all the people in the world looking for you, you’re right here in my living room.”
The Art of Running in Heels Page 7