She bit her lip as she opened it and reread the details. An hour-long presentation on a topic of her choice, followed by a casual Q&A session over lunch. Expected attendee numbers just over fifty women. Fifty people. All supportive, all nonjudgmental, all coming from a similar place and looking for inspiration.
She had to start somewhere.
Hitting Reply, she RSVP’d yes with a note apologizing for the delay in responding. She hit Send, then before she could recall the message, she shut down her email.
The Mascot Hall of Fame website reappeared, and pictures of the three finalists made her chest hurt. Bernie. Crazy, funny, self-deprecating, sexy, wonderful Bernie. She hit Vote under his name, then hit the Share button and sent the voting page to everyone on her contact list with a message to show support for Colorado’s favorite Saint Bernard.
A symbol of hope. For her, a symbol of so much more.
Damn. There was no more denying the truth, despite her best efforts, despite pushing him away, despite every lie she tried to tell herself. She was falling in love with the mascot.
* * *
“So, you get a second chance with a woman completely out of your league and you blow it?”
Owen handed his buddy the certified check for the Hummer a few days later. “Really not in the mood, Ben.” He grabbed the Hummer keys from his friend’s kitchen counter and slid off the stool. The hockey season started in four weeks, and he was planning to disappear until then. Take his new vehicle on a road trip to either coast. Sunny California or Florida—didn’t matter—he’d flip a coin once he hit the highway. Either way, he needed to get out of Denver for a while. The truth behind Ben’s words had echoed in his mind since Paige left his house, and he was going crazy. Watching Paige leave and fighting his natural instinct to beg her to stay had been torture, and with each passing day with no word from her, his hope faded.
He couldn’t drive past the hospital without an overwhelming urge to go see her. The sound of his cell phone ring tone had him wanting to throw it at a wall whenever it rang and it wasn’t her, yet he couldn’t bring himself to change it. Thoughts of her lying in his bed were driving him to distraction, and a longing to taste her watermelon lip gloss was making him so nuts, he’d bought a stick of his own. It wasn’t the same.
Every minute of every day he missed her, and he needed a break. He promised to give her the space and time she needed, and that would be easier in a different state.
Maybe the sun, sand, and beautiful women might help ease his aching heart.
Highly doubtful. But he’d give it the old college try. “See ya in September,” he said as he headed out into the hall.
“Hey, hang on,” Ben said, following him. “Where are you going?”
“Not sure yet. Somewhere to clear my head.”
His buddy studied him. “This one got to you that much, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you tried your usual stalking?”
He shook his head. “You know, I know I messed up the first time. But this time I’m not completely at fault.” He ran a hand through his hair. “The woman is terrified of letting her guard down, she’s holding on to her painful past, and I’m not sure I can help her move past it.” He knew it was a lie. He could tell just by the look in her eyes as he’d made love to her that he was reaching her, helping her, loving her…
But he couldn’t keep offering his heart to a woman who wasn’t sure she wanted it.
“Okay, man…well, drive safe. Text me when your feet hit sand.” Ben tapped his shoulder and Owen nodded.
“Will do,” he said as his phone rang in his pocket. Reaching for it, he groaned. “Man, I could seriously kill you for nominating Bernie for this hall of fame crap.” The number from the Denver organization lighting up his call display made him want to silence the call, but taking a deep breath he answered. With any luck they were calling to say he’d lost the public voting round. “Hello.”
“Hey, is this Bernie—the Colorado Avalanche mascot?”
No, it’s fucking Owen McConnell. Anyone remember or give a shit about that guy? “Yeah.”
“Congratulations! You were voted this year’s hall of fame inductee.”
No shit. He glared at Ben.
“Bernie—you there?”
“Yeah.”
“We will courier the banquet tickets to you this week, and we look forward to seeing you at the ceremony. Where can we send them?”
The annoying smile on Ben’s face disappeared as he said, “Send them to fifty-six Linton Crescent. You can send them to the attention of Ben Westmore—he’ll make sure Bernie gets to the event.”
Ben shook his head.
“Oh…but aren’t you? I mean…”
“There’s a new Bernie in town. I’m hanging up the mascot head, but thank you for the honor.” Disconnecting the call, he tucked the phone away and, smiling for the first time in a week, waved to Ben as he headed outside. “Costume’s in my locker at the stadium. Text me a pic.”
Ben followed him to the Hummer. “Owen, quit messing around. You’re not actually bailing on this now…Come on, man.”
He ignored his buddy’s desperate pleas as he jumped into his new ride and headed toward the highway.
* * *
She refused to let her nerves get to her.
In the beautifully decorated banquet room at the downtown Sheraton, Paige scanned the crowd of women attending the luncheon. It seemed like a lot more than fifty.
At her side, her mother squeezed her shoulder. “Great turnout.”
She nodded.
“You okay?”
She nodded, but it was a lie. She was terrified of opening up in front of everyone…and she was hot. She tugged at the scarf around her neck. The banquet hall was stifling with all of the bodies in the relatively small space. She looked around for an exit or an open window somewhere. “I could use some air.”
Her mother turned her to face her. “Or you could shed some layers.”
She swallowed hard. Stand up there in front of a room full of women, exposing her external scars?
Her mother read her thoughts. “You’re already revealing the internal ones anyway, right? Give people a chance. They might surprise you.”
She hesitated a brief second, an image of Owen appearing in her mind. He certainly had. And still, she lacked the courage to reach out to him. Could she take a chance with this room full of people? Feeling a lump rise in her throat, she forced a breath as she reached behind her, unraveled the scarf from around her neck, and stuffed it into her purse. Instantly, she felt cooler. Exposed…but not as terrifyingly so as she’d expected.
“Coat too,” her mother said.
“Don’t you think it looks more professional?” All she wore underneath was a sleeveless blouse. A memory of Owen’s gentle, healing touch as he’d caressed her arms was almost too much. She needed to stop thinking about him and focus on this event.
“It looks like you’re still hiding, still letting your attackers control you. I read your speech, and I know that’s not the message you’re sharing here today.”
Her mother was right. Her speech that day was about hope, about overcoming the fear and insecurities that came from tragedies and setbacks. It was about learning to be okay with each raw, real emotion and working through them to find your best self, your best life.
Her best self, her best life…Why did it feel as though Owen was the key to that? He’d certainly been the first step toward it.
As the event coordinator introduced her as the guest speaker, Paige removed the coat and hung it over the back of her chair.
Her mother hugged her quickly and through the standing, applauding crowd of nonjudgmental, accepting, admiring gazes, Paige made her way to the stage, never before feeling so beautiful, so free.
Chapter 10
These just arrived for you,” Isabelle said, entering her office the next morning.
“Are they the new pamphlets I ordered last week? That was quick,” Pai
ge said, glancing up from the summer camp letters of thanks from kids and parents. They’d surpassed their goal for the year, and every kid who’d wanted to attend the camp had been able to go. And each and every one of them had a great experience by the sound of the letters.
“No. It looks like event tickets of some sort.”
“Oh, right. Thank you,” she said, hoping her mother wouldn’t pry into what kind of event. She’d ordered the tickets online the night before, after a bottle of liquid courage called pinot noir. She wanted to see Owen, needed to talk to him. There was so much she wanted to say…and she knew she had to do it in person. She had to tell him she loved him in person. Her heart raced at the thought. She loved him. She just hoped she wasn’t too late in telling him.
He’d been true to his word in giving her space and time. But she’d had enough of both. Now all she wanted was him.
She reached for the envelope, but her mother took a step back, reading the return postage label.
“The Colorado Mascot Hall of Fame?” She raised an eyebrow. “So that email you sent wasn’t by mistake? You’ve suddenly become obsessed with mascots?”
Her mother hadn’t been born yesterday. She sighed. “Bernie is Owen McConnell.”
“I know.”
She cocked her head to the side. “You did not.”
“Yes, I did. They carry themselves the same way. Both have a slight limp that’s barely noticeable, but I saw it that day he was in here begging you to talk to him.”
She sighed. He wasn’t begging now.
“You know, honey, despite what people say, it’s okay to move through these different stages of healing quickly.”
“I haven’t known him long enough to be this crazy about him,” she said.
“According to who?” Her mother set the tickets on the desk and leaned to kiss her forehead.
As she turned to leave the office, Paige stopped her. “Hey, Mom?”
She swung back, a hopeful expression on her face. “Yeah?”
“Do you have plans for tonight?” If things went horribly wrong, if she was too late, at least she’d have the one person she could always depend on there for support.
“Nothing I can’t cancel.”
* * *
Costumed people were everywhere.
Has every mascot in the country turned out for this event? Her nervousness subsided a little surrounded by all of them as she and her mother entered the banquet room in the Colorado Sports Hall of Fame. It was hard to feel anxiety surrounded by so many uplifting characters.
“This is so much fun,” her mother said, squeezing her arm beneath her ivory cap-sleeved turtleneck dress.
Exposed arms, covered neck. Baby steps.
“It’s different, that’s for sure,” she said, scanning the room. Normally the larger-than-life-sized Saint Bernard could be spotted in a crowd from a distance, but that evening, she couldn’t see him in the mess of furry creatures in team colors and jerseys, all representing proudly.
A waiter passed with Champagne glasses and she declined, not trusting her shaky hands.
Her mother took one and glanced at the tickets. “Our table is number fourteen—in that corner to the left.”
“Lead the way,” she said, following, her gaze still searching the crowd. Bernie had won the public vote, so she knew he’d be there to accept the official induction. Owen was far too dedicated to the team and the role he played to miss the honorary event.
Still, she didn’t see him anywhere. On the stage, the organizers were talking to the two other finalists she recognized from the site. The Tampa Bay Lightning mascot and the San Jose Sharks mascot were accepting their badges, celebrating their second and third place victories, but no Bernie. No Owen.
“I don’t see him,” she whispered to her mother as they reached their table.
“I’m sure he’s here somewhere.”
She scanned again and saw the Saint Bernard head. Her heart picked up speed and she reached for her mother’s Champagne, draining the glass.
Her mother laughed. “Darling, he’s dressed as a seven-foot dog and you’re nervous?”
Coming from the back of the hall, they watched as he made his way slowly toward the stage. Every several steps, he glanced toward the floor and stumbled over the oversized plush skates.
Was he drunk?
At the base of the stairs he hesitated, and her eyes widened. “What’s wrong with him?”
“That’s not Owen,” her mother whispered next to her.
“How do you know?”
“Besides the fact that whoever’s in there has never worn an oversized head in their life? He’s not limping…just tripping. There’s a definite difference.”
As she watched Bernie climb the stairs, she realized her mother was right. Her heart fell. Owen hadn’t shown up? He’d left this important moment to someone else. At least she assumed it was an important moment, but maybe she’d assumed his identity was more tightly connected to his role as mascot than it actually was.
Whoever was inside obviously didn’t feel a connection to the role. She covered her eyes with a hand as he tripped on the top step and sprawled across the stage. Tangled limbs and an off-kilter head made it a challenge for whoever it was to stand up, and a murmur went through the crowd.
“Oh my,” her mother said.
Five painful-to-watch minutes later, Bernie was inducted into the Mascot Hall of Fame by organizers who appeared to be regretting their decision as the dog in skates hurried away the moment he was allowed to go.
“Well, I guess we came here for nothing,” Paige said, sipping her water, fighting the disappointment creeping into her chest. If Owen was moving away from this, what else was he giving up on? The tightening in her gut told her she was terrified of the answer.
“Sorry, honey. But, you know there is such thing as texting, right?”
“He hasn’t contacted me…”
“And you’re expecting him to continue putting himself out there when you’re not willing.” It wasn’t a question.
“I did put myself out there…”
“And he accepted you, loved you, and brought out a new hope in you—I know because I see it. Your mind may be struggling with the right thing to do, but your heart already knows. Follow it. It brought you here tonight.”
She swallowed hard as she nodded slowly. She’d taken a chance coming here, but she wasn’t sure how or when she’d summon the nerve to try again. “Well, anyway. We don’t have to stay.” Standing, she noticed Ben Westmore lingering outside the entrance to the room. “There’s Ben. Before we go, I should say hi.” What she really wanted was to find out why Owen had missed this.
Her mother nodded. “Take your time.”
Crossing the room, she sidestepped mascots and ignored appreciative gazes as she made her way to where Ben was resting against a wall. “Hi, Ben,” she said, touching his shoulder.
Turning, his face was red and beads of sweat gathered on his forehead. He looked like he’d run a marathon. “Oh, hey, Paige, how are you?”
“I’m good. How are you?” She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Ready to kill Owen,” he said, confirming her suspicions.
She laughed until her sides hurt.
He apparently didn’t see the humor in it at all, and he shot her a look.
“You were terrible out there,” she whispered.
“I know. The team couldn’t find a replacement quick enough and no one wanted to see Bernie’s honor revoked because of Owen’s dick move.”
“What dick move?”
“Quitting the role of Bernie and taking off for Miami.”
She blinked. Miami? What the hell was in Miami? God, she hoped there wasn’t someone else in Miami…The strength of the overwhelming disappointment she experienced by the thought only further confirmed her feelings. “Is he coming back?”
“Yes, and when he does, I’m kicking his ass.” Ben sighed, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.
T
hank God. She was tempted to kick his ass for leaving, too. Didn’t he know she missed him?
“I take it you came here to see him.”
“No. I just love mascots.”
He finally grinned. “His sarcasm is rubbing off on you—be careful.”
She took a deep breath. “Did he go to Miami alone?”
“If alone means with thoughts of you plaguing him, then yes.”
His words shouldn’t warm her as much as they did, but she clung to the hope that Ben was right. “I drove him to Miami?”
“To the land of sun, sand, women, and booze,” Ben said with a nod.
“I’m okay with the sun, sand, and booze part, but not so much the women.” She needed to talk to him, tell him how she felt…ask for another chance.
Ben retrieved his cell phone and opened a text from Owen. “Well, you can find him at the Paradise Wave Resort.”
“Oh…I’m not sure following him to Miami is a good idea.” The idea was tempting, but she wasn’t completely crazy.
“He’d do it for you,” Ben said.
She paused. Owen would do it for her. Which was one of the reasons she knew his feelings for her were real. Maybe sometimes crazy wasn’t so crazy.
* * *
The hot sand felt great beneath him as Owen stretched out on the Miami beach the next afternoon. Better enjoy what was left of his life before Ben murdered him when he returned to Colorado.
Which might be sooner than he’d originally planned.
Apparently troubles really did find you, no matter how far away or how perfect a paradise you find to hide in. Drinking hadn’t helped. It had only given him a hangover the first day there, and he’d had to give the bartender his phone to prevent him from drunk-dialing or texting Paige.
Three weeks and not a single word.
Had he totally misread their connection? He never claimed to be good at relationships, but this time had really felt like something.
He shifted on his blanket and shielded his eyes from the glaring sun.
Every woman on the beach reminded him of Paige. He swore he saw her everywhere—in the ocean, at the resort, at the bar…Wishful thinking, perhaps.
Maybe This Summer Page 10