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,” Paige 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.
Thank 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.
He’d thought it was only in the desert that hallucinations occurred, but the one he was experiencing right now was so vivid…
He lifted his sunglasses onto his forehead as he stared across the beach.
The beautiful blond hair blowing in the ocean breeze and the long, bare legs visible beneath a pale pink sarong nearly made his heart stop.
It couldn’t be her. Paige didn’t even know where he was, and she barely went anywhere without being fully covered. This woman was wearing a white bikini top, and her skin glistened. He sat straighter and squinted as she stopped in the sand a few feet away.
“Hey, mind if I stalk you?” The sound of the voice he’d been craving made him smile like a complete moron.
He had absolutely zero game, and he didn’t give a shit.
“I was starting to lose hope that you would.” He pushed himself to his feet, brushing sand from the back of his shorts as he stepped toward her. He had to touch her, make sure she was really there.
“Ben told me where you were. He gave me a head start before he came here himself to drag your butt back into the mascot costume.” She gave a nervous-sounding laugh, and her gaze fell to the sand. “Sorry to crash your vacation.”
Reaching for her, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into him, savoring the smell of her coconut-scented sunscreen and the feel of her smooth, soft body beneath his hands. She was really there. For him. “Sweetheart, you could crash my life and I’d beg you to do it again.”
She looked relieved as her gaze rose to meet his. “And I’m sorry about the way we left things…”
He kissed her forehead, his hands sliding up her bare back, his fingers feeling the scars at her shoulders. “I’m sorry I didn’t come after you this time.”
“No. You were right to make me sweat a little,” she said with a sheepish grin. “But this humidity is a little much.” She rubbed her bare arms. “I can’t remember the last time I was this exposed,” she said.
“Me neither,” he whispered against her cheek as he kissed the base of her neck. “You’re beautiful. There’s nothing you ever need to hide. Not from me, not from anyone.”
She stood on tiptoes and kissed his lips quickly, before saying, “You were right.”
“About what?”
“Only needing one date to sweep me off my feet.”
He smiled. “Obviously, we are not talking about the first one.”
“Obviously,” she said swatting his shoulder.
He pulled her closer and she fell into him, her lips finding his once more as the warm breeze circled around them.
“Everyone is staring,” she said, pulling back a breathless moment later.
“That’s because they’re all wondering what someone as perfect as you sees in a guy like me. In fact, I can’t stop wondering that myself.”
“I’m in love with you,” she whispered.
God, he loved hearing that. “Say it again.”
“I love you.” She backed away slightly, reached for her cell phone, and dialed a number.
He frowned until he heard his cell phone ring. The sound of “Stir It Up” coming from his shorts pocket made him smile.
She took his hand and pulled him closer. “Dance with me.”
He brought her hand to his lips. “No one else is dancing,” he whispered against her soft skin.
“That’s okay. I don’t want to dance with anyone else,” she said, lifting her love-filled expression to his as they swayed together on the sand.