The Mascot Hall of Fame website was taunting her behind her email screen a few days later.
Just click Vote and be done with it.
Closing her eyes, Paige leaned her head back against the chair. Erasing Owen from her thoughts despite her busy schedule was impossible. Unlike the last time she’d walked away from him, he hadn’t tried to convince her to stay. Nor had he contacted her since he’d walked her to her car, kissed her gently, and let her drive away.
Every ounce of her being had prayed for vehicle-chasing Owen that day, but he’d been standing in the driveway, watching her drive off when she dared a glance in the rearview mirror.
He said he would give her space, but every ring of her cell phone had her hoping it was him.
She missed him.
Of course, she could call him. After all, if he’d had his way, she’d be still at his house. But his declaration of love had freaked her out. The emotional roller coaster she’d been riding since meeting him had her feeling unsettled and uneasy. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. She longed to reach out to him, to let things progress between them, but she still wasn’t sure if she was as serious about him as he was about her, and she refused to lead him on.
The memory of his touch as his fingers had caressed her scars made her chest tighten—so gentle, so loving, so completely what she’d needed.
She forced a breath. Get it together. You’ve known him all of ten minutes. Wasn’t that her point? The feelings she had couldn’t possibly be real, having only known him so short a time. She needed to keep moving on with this new phase of her acceptance and see what happened.
But was this break from Owen, this pushing him away, really moving on? Or was it just another way to go back into hiding? Back to the place she’d kept herself, closed off from the rest of the world for so long that opening up to Owen had felt like a new beginning to life? Maybe moving on meant going to him and taking a chance.
Or maybe she needed to stop overthinking it all and get some freaking work done.
She sat forward and opened the folder in her email that said Publicity & Promotion. Scrolling through the correspondence regarding the golf tournament, she discovered an email she’d forgotten she’d received a few weeks before.
A request for a speaking engagement with the Women of Action group, a women’s organization that recognized successful women who’d overcome great odds or challenging life setbacks to achieve their goals.
The invitation to speak at their luncheon had gone unanswered…as had the several dozen requests they’d sent before that. Usually she deleted them, but for some reason, she’d saved this one.
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.