Bernie had friends indeed.
Owen took the steps of the Burn Treatment Center two at a time a few days later. He’d called in every favor he had from every friend or acquaintance who’d needed a last-minute mascot to attend their event at little to no cost and they were all willing to provide sponsorship funds for the charity golf tournament without hesitation.
Of course, the individual amounts were small, and no one could afford the hefty price tag of actually bidding to golf alongside a pro athlete, but every dollar added up. Opening the door to the offices, he approached the desk. “Good morning, Isabelle,” he said, leaning against the desk.
She smiled, but her face registered no recognition. “Hello.”
“Owen McConnell, promotions manager for the Avalanche.” Still nothing. “Ben Westmore and I met with Ms. Adams about the celebrity golf charity event the other day.”
She finally nodded. “Yes. Right. Sorry, it’s been a busy week. Lots of traffic and new faces coming through. Do you have an appointment with Paige?” she asked.
“No. I thought I’d stop in and see if I could catch her.” He had tried for an appointment for three days, but her schedule had been full. Busy woman.
She had been on his mind constantly. He wouldn’t even pretend that his sudden interest in the burn treatment camps was solely altruistic. He believed wholeheartedly in supporting the cause, but he also wanted to impress Paige. Rarely did he meet a woman who competed for his every thought the way she did. It wasn’t just her gorgeous looks that had sucked him in, but her obvious dedication to her role at the center and her professionalism mixed with a passion for the charity. Since the injury that ended his military career, he’d had countless casual relationships, but no one had intrigued him enough to make him consider settling down, pursuing something real.
And he was no doubt jumping the gun here, but there was something different about Paige. She was definitely intriguing.
Isabelle checked her calendar. “I’m not seeing much of a break anywhere. Even her lunch hour is booked with an outside meeting. Was there something I could help you with?”
He slapped the completed sponsor forms against his other palm. “I kinda wanted to give her these myself.” She’d barely glanced at him the other day in the boardroom. But he hoped that without Ben next to him, he might be a little more…appealing.
“Completed sponsorship forms?” she asked.
He nodded, handing them to her.
She scanned them, and her eyebrows raised. “Wow. This is fantastic.” She hesitated, glancing through Paige’s office window. “She’s not with anyone right now. Just give me a second,” she said, getting up and going inside the office, closing the door behind her.
He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but there was quite a lengthy discussion before Isabelle opened the door with a triumphant grin. “You can go right in.” She gave him the forms and a wink as he passed her.
He ran a hand through his gelled blond hair and entered the office. “Good morning,” he said.
She was typing furiously, and he marveled over how quickly her brain must work. “Sorry, just give me one second…There. Okay, hi,” she said with a polite smile. “Owen McConnell, right?”
Isabelle had obviously given her a heads-up, but he’d go with it. “Glad you remembered me. I haven’t been on your mind too much, have I?”
She blinked.
No sense of humor. Got it. He cleared his throat. “Sorry, I was projecting.”
Blink. Blink.
Okay then. “I just wanted to stop by to drop these off.” He placed the sponsorship forms on her desk and shivered. “It’s freezing in here. No wonder you need a scarf,” he said, noticing once again she was completely covered, this time in a dark gray pantsuit, pale pink blouse, and sheer white scarf wrapped high around her neck, her long hair in loose waves around her shoulders. He hadn’t thought it possible for her to look sexier than she had with the hair pulled away from her face, displaying her high cheekbones, but he’d been wrong. This softer, more feminine look was decidedly his favorite.
“I like the cold,” she said, staring at the forms. “Wow. You’ve been busy since Monday.”
He smiled. “Told you I knew some people. I mean, come on—who doesn’t remember summer camp and all the great times there, right? Every kid should get to go.” He’d actually been slightly overweight as a kid and had moved around a lot with a military family, so most of his lasting friendships, including that with Ben, had been made at Camp Timberline in Colorado. No matter where he lived, he came back for the summer.
“Agreed.” She reached for a folder on her insanely organized desk and slid them inside. Her smile was once again polite, but distant, and he had absolutely no reason to think it was a good idea, but out on a limb he went.
“Hey, was it just my imagination, or was there a connection between us the other day?”
“Just your imagination.”
“Damn. I never read these situations right. Tell me the truth, it’s the eye, isn’t it? The slightly cloudy effect makes you uncomfortable?” It was barely noticeable since his surgery, and he’d long ago come to terms with his accident overseas when he was a lieutenant in the Marine Corps.
Her head shot up. “I didn’t even notice your eye…”
Translation—she hadn’t noticed anything about him.
“Great, so do we have a date?”
“Um, no…there won’t be a date.”
“You have a boyfriend.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and waited for her to confirm she was unavailable.
She remained stone faced, giving him jack shit for information.
“Girlfriend?” Had he read things completely wrong?
She raised one eyebrow, but ignored his prodding. “I appreciate the sponsorships. Very impressive,” she said, making him pause.
“Impressive enough for you to dump your boyfriend/girlfriend and give me one quick coffee date? That’s all I need to sweep you off your feet.”
A hint of an amused smile. “Have a good day, Mr. McConnell.”
Shut down. Naturally. “Always a pleasure, Ms. Adams.”
* * *
Turning down a date had never left her with a lingering disappointment like the one she felt watching Owen say goodbye to her mom on the way out of the office. The guy had a permanent smile plastered on his face, making his already tempting good looks even more appealing, and she had to fight the urge to chase after him.
But she’d been refusing dates for so long, she wouldn’t even know how to act on one…and she sensed spending time with him would be dangerous.
Paige grabbed her purse and left her office for her lunch meeting with Dr. Madsen across town. Perhaps some people were just naturally happy all the time. Owen McConnell certainly seemed to possess that gene.
She used to smile a lot, too. Besides her six-foot frame, it had been her biggest asset for her modeling career. Blessed with perfect, straight teeth and full lips, smiling in front of the camera had been easy money and a life she’d never thought she’d be forced to walk away from.
“I’m heading out. I’ll be back in a few hours,” she told Isabelle as she passed the desk and handed Owen’s fundraising forms to her.
“He raised a lot of money since Monday,” she said, eyeing her.
She knew the look and the tone. “Forget it, Mom,” she said, leaving the office before her mother could give her a lecture about dating she’d heard too many times already.
She’d get back in the saddle when she was ready.
Never.
Climbing into her car a moment later, she cranked the AC. Then, unbuttoning the top few buttons on her blouse, she tossed her hair away from her neck. The sight of the melted-looking skin starting below her chin and extending beneath the collar of the blouse made her chest tighten. Four surgeries on that part of her body so far, and still no real improvement in the texture and repair of the damaged flesh. Four painful skin grafting procedures where the doctor had removed flesh from the base of her back and buttocks and transplanted it over sheets of collagen had failed to deliver the results they had in other parts of her body.
She knew she was lucky the sulfuric acid hadn’t hit her face. The damage to her skin on her chest, neck, and arms had been severe enough. The thought that it could have been so much worse had the acid gotten into her mouth, destroying her esophagus, or into her eyes, blinding her, made her shudder.
So many of the survivors she worked with every day hadn’t been as lucky, which was something she had to remind herself whenever moments of self-pity seeped in.
Like now, as she passed Brooks Boulevard and the billboard on her left displayed a new smiling spokesmodel for Blissful Cosmetics, the company she’d signed a six-figure modeling contract with six years before—the contract that changed her life. First for the better, as the realization of her dream came true, then in the form of a nightmare, as the boyfriend of the other woman who’d been up for the opportunity had attacked her outside her condo. He’d thrown the sulfuric acid so quickly, then time had passed as though she were in a terrifying haze. The hellish heat of the liquid on her flesh made her so desperate for something to cool it, she’d fallen to her stomach in a puddle of ice and melted snow on the ground, covering her skin. An ear-piercing shriek echoed around her and grew even more frantic when she realized it was coming from her. Then the two faceless, nameless good Samaritans who picked her up and rushed her to the emergency room.
Her attacker disappeared with her future.
She sat at the red light, staring at the young woman whose face had replaced hers on the billboard, smiling above the city, carefree, happy…and she couldn’t shake the torment of wondering where she’d be had the attack not happened. She’d always dreamed of Paris runways, modeling high-fashion designs, and photoshoots in exotic locations. Tall from her early teen years, and blessed with a look society deemed beautiful, modeling had been a certainty in her future.
A car horn behind her made her jump. The light had turned green. She hit the gas and cast one final glance at the advertisement.
Her life had more purpose now. She was helping people. She was doing something meaningful with her life. She’d moved on and made the best of a tragic situation.
Then why did the sight of the smiling face on the billboard still make her wonder how her life could have been different? She’d accepted what had happened to her. She’d even learned to forgive her attacker with the help of her support group. But she couldn’t seem to let go completely of the dream she’d once had…or the desire to once again have the beauty she’d lost.
It was silly. It shouldn’t matter. But for so long so much of her self-worth had been wrapped up in her outside appearance that she’d never fully thought herself capable of anything else. Working at the Burn Treatment Center, she’d hoped those feelings of inadequacy would fade.
Still, they lingered.
The red and blue lights flashing in her rearview mirror a second later made her slow her Audi, hoping the police officer would go around. But he remained behind her and then the siren sounded as well.
Shit. Was this for her? Pulling the car to the side of the road, she stopped and waited, reaching for her sweater and shoving her arms into it. Well, if she was late for her appointment with Dr. Madsen, it couldn’t be blamed on her this time. She cranked the A/C higher and turned down the radio.
The police officer tapped the window and she rolled it down. “Hi, officer.”
“License and registration please,” he said, glancing inside the immaculate vehicle.
“Sure.” She rummaged around in her purse for them and handed them through the window.
He scanned them quickly. “Is this the current registration?”
She nodded with a frown. “Yeah, why?”
“It expired.”
“That can’t be right.” Taking it back, she saw that it had expired in May. She sighed. “You’re not going to give me a ticket, are you?”
“That depends. Were you headed to the DMV now when I pulled you over?”
“Yes?”
He nodded.
“Then yes, I was.” The DMV was her idea of hell on earth, but it still beat where she’d really been heading.
He handed back her information. “Have a nice day.”
“Thank you, officer.” She rolled up the window and waited until he’d driven away to pull out in traffic. “Call Dr. Madsen,” she told her hands-free connection, grateful for the valid excuse for missing the appointment.
But a minute later, she was receiving an earful from him. “Paige, this is the third time this month.”
“I know. I’m sorry. But this was beyond my control.”
“Come see me when you’re done.”
She glanced at the time. “It’s already after twelve, and you know how long it takes at the DMV…I should have brought a sleeping bag,” she joked, hoping to change the mood. Dr. Madsen had been her doctor for six years, helping her through her very first surgery. He was like family, and she hated to disappoint him with her anxiety and fears. And, unfortunately, she knew her mother would find out, as the two played tennis at the same club and often had dinner together. Patient confidentiality apparently didn’t extend to her when they’d all been in it together since the start.
She swallowed a lump of guilt, thinking about everything her mother had sacrificed to get her to this point in her recovery. The first several reconstructive surgeries had been covered by her health plan at Blissful Cosmetics, but when her recovery and progress hadn’t been as instant as they’d hoped, she’d been let go. Their “beauty from within” campaign was obviously not something the corporate executives truly believed in. After that, she’d had her meager savings to cover some of her hospital expenses, but then her parents had stepped in to help.
The bills had piled up quickly, and they’d remortgaged their house, drained their retirement savings…The financial strain combined with the emotional roller coaster of her recovery had been too much on her father, and he’d bailed three years ago.
Having the strength to apply for the position at the Burn Treatment Center had come from pure desperation and a desire to help her mother regain all the things she’d sacrificed in her mission to help Paige feel whole again.
And in a way these surgeries were a way of repaying her mother, too. She owed her mom so much, and giving up on these treatments would feel as though she were letting her down, not to mention the patients who looked to her to be an example of what was possible. The weight of it made her sigh. How was she supposed to fully move on when she was constantly trying to regain an impossible perfection, feeling like she was just shy of—just one surgery away from—being enough?
“Paige,” Dr. Madsen’s voice cut into her thoughts.
She sighed. “What time will your office be open until? I’ll get through this as quickly as I can.”
* * *
Two numbers away.
Owen’s knee bounced as he sat in the chair in the back of the DMV. He flicked the now-wrinkled number slip between his fingers as he waited. He’d sat in this same cattle pen when he’d registered his first brand-new vehicle, a hundred-thousand-dollar Beemer from his first payday with the NHL. He’d been twenty years old and invincible when he’d played with the Colorado Avalanche—what felt like a lifetime ago. Two tours overseas as a Marine had cured any sense of immortality immediately. He wondered, without regret, what his career in the NHL would have looked like had he continued playing instead of leaving to join the Marines.
Probably not sitting there, waiting for his required eye exam to renew his license…but that’s where life had taken him, and he chose to enjoy whatever ride he was given. After all, he’d been lucky that landmine hadn’t ended things for him completely. Losing his sight in his left eye had been a small sacrifice to make for saving his own life and that of a comrade. And he’d been lucky that his stem transplantation surgery had been successful and he had seventy percent visibility in the left eye. Now, if only he could convince the DMV that he wasn’t a hazard behind the wheel, he could get out of there.
The number before his was called, and he stood and stretched. He was meeting Ben and Olivia that evening for drinks. His friend’s fiancée was bringing a friend.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t looking forward to the blind date setup as much as he had been before meeting Paige Adams. She was on his mind more than most women occupied his thoughts, and he’d even given up the urge to flirt with his usual barista at the Starbucks on the way over…Hopefully whatever infatuation he had for the beautiful blonde who was throwing him off his game would pass before tonight’s date.
At thirty-six years old, he thought maybe it was time to settle down, start a family. His time as Bernie was coming to an end as his responsibilities as promotions manager for the team were increasing, and booking himself for events without giving up his alter ego’s identity was becoming challenging. It was time to grow up and start taking the noncareer aspects of his life seriously. Casual dates and hookups were fun in his twenties, but they weren’t filling the void anymore. Admittedly, watching his confirmed-bachelor best friend fall in love in recent months had gotten him thinking about his own lack of commitments.
Since leaving the Marines, he’d been enjoying life and having a good time, relying on the excuse that life was too short. But lately, he realized that he may not be experiencing everything life had to offer or being honest with himself about what he wanted. Putting himself out there was so much easier when he was hiding behind a mascot head.
He moved closer to the counter, reaching into his wallet for his driver’s license, and did a double-take when he saw Paige enter the standing-room-only DMV.
It didn’t look like he’d be making it to drinks that evening. He grinned. Maybe he could negotiate his way into new plans. Judging by the “oh shit, this is going to take forever” look on her face, he suspected the number in his hand was his golden ticket. It depended only on how desperate she was.
She glanced his way, and her expression revealed she was pretty desperate. It was not the noblest way to get a date with her, but that didn’t matter. He smiled and nodded in greeting as he headed toward her.
She frowned and glanced around as though looking for an escape or someone…anyone else she recognized.
He wasn’t fazed. He had her escape in his hand, if she wanted to trade one obligatory action for another. Normally, a shutdown like the one in her office would have caused him to retreat, move on to a more willing option, but there was something about her that told him she wasn’t as resolute in her refusal. And besides, he just wanted one chance to see if the connection he was feeling to her went both ways.
Yet, his confidence wavered slightly as he drew closer. What if she actually chose the DMV over spending an hour with him? Could his ego ever bounce back?