John would have a lot to say when he found out Sean had stripped his little girl naked. If Sean had anything to say about it, John Kowalsky would never find out, but he didn’t have anything to say about it. When and where and how the news got delivered was up to Lexie, and Sean hated that he had no control over the situation. All he could do was wait for the axe to fall.
Ten miles into the Hecate Strait, the gentle roll of the waves rocked him into a deep sleep and he awoke as the ferry docked in the port of Prince Rupert. Rain hit the starboard porthole as Sean shoved his feet into his shoes and laced them up. He grabbed his coat, duffel, and ball cap, and made his way down the hall to the exit. He’d been born in Prince Rupert but didn’t recall living there. As a very young child, he and his mother had moved to Sandspit with Ed Brown. He didn’t recall much of Ed Brown, either. Other than that after his mother divorced Ed, she’d immediately caught the bird flu.
Fat drops of rain hit Sean’s face and he pulled the hood of his coat over his head. Vehicles drove from the open hull as he moved down the gangplank toward the terminal. Before he’d left Sandspit, he’d been given the number of a taxi service, and he pulled out his phone. Within fifteen minutes, he was on his way to the airport on Digby Island. Forty minutes later, he relaxed in a third-row seat on the double-prop airplane. Well, “relaxed” might be a stretch. There was no relaxing in the cramped seat, and he slid one of his long legs on the aisle side of the seat in front of him. “Loosening up” might be a better phrase. The more miles he put between him and his mother, the more he felt himself unwind. He could honestly say he loved his mother. He did, but he couldn’t be around her for long before she drained him like a cheap flashlight. While his energy faded, she didn’t seem to notice. Or if she did, it never bothered her. She’d never taken responsibility for anything, and the older Sean got, the colder his feelings got, too.
The stewardess set a little bottle of water and a tiny bag of peanuts on the tray in front of Sean. He was starving and figured that he’d plant his ass in a sports bar at YVR.
Past girlfriends had called him cold and distant—among other things. It was more than likely true. He was twenty-seven, and the closest he ever got to the warm and fuzzies for a woman was in bed. Out of bed, he didn’t want to take on the responsibility of anyone else.
Just himself—and his mother. He made sure she had plenty of money. He’d had the house she’d wanted moved to the place she’d wanted it. He’d bought her the Subaru and had it shipped from Prince Albert. He visited her whenever she was at death’s door. He did what he could for her, but they’d never been close.
Sean ripped open the bag of peanuts and dumped them in his mouth. He’d been close to only one person, and that had been his uncle. Abe had been his father figure and had changed his life. If not for his uncle, Sean didn’t know where he’d be today. If not for hockey, he’d probably be in a mental institution somewhere banging his head against a wall to dull the pain.
He opened the water and drained the small bottle. Sean had good relationships with his friends. At least he thought he did, but those relationships weren’t family. There’d been only one person in his life that he’d ever considered family. One person who’d looked out for him. One person he’d been able to talk to about anything, and when his uncle had died, Sean cried like a little girl. With the old man gone, the feeling of family was gone, too.
The twin-prop Air Canada circled the Vancouver airport several times before landing. The closer the airplane taxied to the gate, the more energy Sean felt flow through him. By the time he found Canucks Bar and Grill, it practically snapped from his fingertips. Electric posters of Henrik Sedin and Brandon Sutter greeted him as he moved to the hostess stand. The restaurant’s motto was “We Are All Canucks,” and he pulled his cap lower on his forehead. Not all of them were Canucks, and he felt a bit like a traitor. He took a seat at the bar and quickly ordered a rib eye, grilled vegetables, and water with a slice of lemon. The service was great and the food was better. Five televisions hung above the bar; two of them ran the Bruins versus the Jets in Winnipeg, and two showed the Giants/Packers NFC game. The fifth, CNN.
Even though the sound was off, Sean could practically hear the slap of sticks hitting the ice and the grunts as McQuid caught Ehlers in the corner and brutally checked him into the boards. In the third period, Marchand rocked a one-timer into Hellebuyck’s five-hole and lit the lamp.
That, he thought as he cut into his steak, was something that made his heart thump. A laser shot in the five-hole filled him up with so much electricity, it always felt like his hair would singe. Putting points on the board had never felt like a responsibility to him. It was fun. He got off on it. He was one of the best shooters in the NHL. Putting the puck in the net was a challenge, one that he would gladly shoulder.
The bartender recognized him and gave him a beer on the house. Sean might not play for the Canucks, but he was a Canuck by birth and had played for Edmonton at one time. The two men shot the shit for a few minutes until the other man left to mix martinis.
On the two TVs, a Bud Light commercial interrupted the Bruins/Jets game, and Sean glanced at CNN as he shoved a big piece of meat into his mouth. The closed caption rolled down the screen as three commentators discussed plastic bottles floating up onto a California beach. One second the screen was filled with white plastic, and in the next, the news feed cut to a long dock. A familiar green seaplane bobbing at the end.
KING 5 is at the scene. While the captions rolled, the door to the seaplane opened and someone jumped out. Even if the woman wasn’t wearing yoga sweats and his brown shirt, the fish hat was a dead giveaway. At first it didn’t appear as if Lexie spotted the cameras and news crew. Her attention was directed at her phone, and she didn’t notice the media crosshairs on her forehead. Then suddenly she looked up, and her eyes rounded like those of a deer caught in the headlights.
The morning sun sparkled in the pumps she’d worn the first night he’d met her. For a split second, Sean wondered what she’d done with her boots, but then all hell broke loose.
Lexie? Miss Kowalsky, can you tell us where you’ve been? the closed caption read.
Blond hair beneath her fish hat flew about her head as she blew past the reporters. Her long legs chewed up the dock, her breasts bounced like soccer balls inside his shirt, and he thought for sure she’d fall and break an ankle.
Sean cut into his steak and thanked God he wasn’t in the middle of the chaos. Like the closed caption on the television, two thoughts scrolled through his mind.
First, she shouldn’t run like that. It looked painful and she could hurt herself.
Second, fourteen hours didn’t seem all that bad. He shoved a bite of steak in his mouth and reached for his Stella. From where he sat, a four-hour layover in Vancouver seemed like he’d dodged a bullet.
Chapter 8
•all’s fair in love and war
Lexie’s luck ran out the moment the Sea Hopper landed in Seattle. She’d asked Marie to pick her up at the Lake Union dock, but that had been just one more mistake added to the heap in her growing pile. Lexie didn’t want to involve her friend more than necessary. These days Marie was an upright citizen who taught first grade at the respectable Waldorf School. The last thing she needed was to be seen on the five o’clock news driving a getaway car. She’d gotten away with it the first time. Twice was pushing her luck.
If Lexie’s dad was in town, he would have met her with a couple of hockey players to run interference and body-check a few reporters into the drink. Someone had leaked the information that the runaway Gettin’ Hitched bride had jumped aboard the flying tree frog, had hopped out of town, and was now hopping back in. Lexie suspected Jimmy. The fact that he hadn’t mentioned the scene that waited for her during the flight to Seattle put him at the top of the list. Plus he had the most to gain by the free publicity and sudden notoriety. Not that she could blame him—much. She’d done the same thing for her business. And she couldn’t really yell at
him for being a traitor since he’d helped her out big-time. If he was the one who’d talked, she figured they were even now.
Halfway up the dock, she noticed the media rushing toward her from the floating veranda next to the check-in office. Earlier, she’d stepped in a muddy hole in her boots and had to take off at a full sprint in her Louboutins. She barely made it to the parking lot and Marie’s MINI Cooper before being swarmed. As they sped away, dodging reporters and paparazzi, Marie glanced at Lexie from the corners of her eyes. “What the heck are you wearing?” she asked as they darted into the noon rush on Fairview.
Lexie looked down at her sparkly Louboutins, yoga pants, and Sean’s brown plaid shirt. Since he hadn’t shown up to board the Sea Hopper, she supposed it belonged to her now. But Sean was the last person she wanted to discuss with Marie or anyone. “I stepped in a freezing cold puddle and my boots—”
“No,” Marie interrupted. “That thing on your head.”
“Oh.” She pulled off her fish hat and set it in her lap. “Jimmy bought it so no one would recognize me.”
“Jimmy? The king of bad taste?” Marie looked in the rearview mirror and switched lanes. “I hate to point out the obvious, but nothing says Look at me like a woman with a fish stuck through her head.”
Sean had pretty much said the same thing. Lexie put a hand on the dash to steady herself and ran her fingers through her tangled hair with the other. Outside of her family, only five people knew she’d been hiding out in Sandspit, British Columbia. Out of those five, she’d thought she only had to worry about Geraldine Brown. Obviously she’d overestimated Jimmy’s loyalty. “I’m so tired,” she said through a yawn.
“Being a fugitive from the hitchin’ posse is exhausting,” Marie said as she dodged in and out of traffic as if they were actual fugitives running from the law.
That and staying up late and having sex with a man she’d known for two days. She figured she’d had about four hours of sleep before the sun had sliced through a part in the curtains and cut across the empty pillow next to hers. She’d managed a few hours of sleep on the Sea Hopper but woke feeling even more exhausted.
She didn’t know if Sean had:
Stayed behind at his mother’s.
Slipped and fallen.
Been abducted by aliens.
All she knew for sure was that he’d kissed her hair and told her he’d pick her up and drive them to the wharf. He’d never shown, and the only thing Jimmy said was that Sean wouldn’t be flying to Seattle with them. She hadn’t asked Jimmy any questions, fearing Jimmy might ask her questions that she didn’t want to answer. “I’m going to sleep until next week.” In the end, Sean’s reasons didn’t matter:
He didn’t owe her anything.
She didn’t care.
Still . . . there was a little irrational part of her that would have liked to see him again. Maybe have dinner and show him she wasn’t a crazy person. Maybe impress him with her real life. She could take him to a hockey game and to meet her dad afterward. She’d been under the impression that he didn’t have a favorable view of her father, but every man she’d introduced to her dad had loved meeting John “The Wall” Kowalsky.
“I think you ran even faster than last time in those shoes. I thought the KIRO reporter and her cameraman were going to tackle you, for sure,” Marie said.
Lexie thought so, too, and had practically felt their breath on the back of her neck. She turned and looked out the back window. “I don’t see anyone following us now. I think we lost them, Thelma.”
“You’re Thelma. I’m Louise.”
For as long as they’d been friends, they’d had an ongoing argument over which character resembled them most in BFF movies. Everyone knew that Thelma got to do Brad Pitt in a dumpy hotel in Oklahoma. Wow. She really was Thelma today. She’d had sex with a man who was a virtual stranger. Sean had vanished like Brad Pitt, too. Of course, Sean hadn’t stolen her money or anything else.
“You know I’m saving myself for Chris Pine,” Marie said as she merged onto I–5.
Then Marie would have loved Sean Brown, Lexie thought as her friend sandwiched the MINI Cooper between an Amazon Prime semi and an ARCO tanker truck. “Your driving is giving me anxiety, Louise.”
“Do you want me to let you out on the side of the interstate? I’m sure someone will pick you up sooner or later.” Marie glanced at her, then back at the road. “Maybe not with that hair, though.”
A scowl pulled at Lexie’s brows and she folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Funny. Just take me to my apartment.”
“You can’t go back to your apartment. I’m sure it’s surrounded by now.” Then Marie said the dreaded inevitable. “You have to go to your parents’.”
It made sense. Her parents lived in a gated neighborhood on Mercer Island. She had no choice, but she hated the idea of running home, and she wasn’t looking forward to the interrogation that waited for her when she stepped foot inside.
Lucky for her, when she walked inside her parents’ house, no human was there to greet her. “Where’s my baby?” she called out. She heard yips from the vicinity of her parents’ room, then Yum Yum rounded the corner wearing a cable knit hoodie from the Erin-Go-Aw sweater collection. As always when she saw her dog, her heart turned mushy. “There you are!” She kicked off her shoes, sank to her knees, and scooped up the hairless dog. “Mommy missed you.” Yum Yum’s body shook with excitement and her black tongue darted out and licked Lexie’s face. “Have you been a good girl?” she asked as she rose to her feet and headed down the hall.
Lexie knew her dad was in Pittsburgh, and she figured her mother was at work at her television studio in Tacoma. Her younger brother, Jon Jon, was probably at school. Like a convict with a get-out-of-jail-free card, she felt a slight reprieve from the disappointment she would surely see in her mother’s eyes. With her dog cradled in her arms, she walked into her old bedroom, now converted into a gift-wrap center filled with bright paper and shiny ribbon. Beside the door, she found her purse and the suitcases she’d left at the Fairmont.
Just last week she’d packed for her honeymoon in Acapulco. With one hand, she opened the biggest suitcase and dug past her baby doll chemise inside. She pushed aside her Mrs. Dalton silk robe and pulled out a clean pair of panties and matching bra. “You need a mud bath.” Her nose wrinkled and she set Yum Yum inside the open luggage. Like all hairless dogs, Yum Yum tended to smell like old corn chips if not given regular mud baths with mineral conditioners to clean and hydrate her skin.
In anticipation of her tropical honeymoon, she’d packed sundresses, bikinis, and shorts. She pulled out her blue dress and didn’t want to think about where she’d be at that exact moment if she hadn’t called off the wedding. She didn’t want to think of the people she’d hurt, especially Pete. He didn’t deserve the humiliation of getting left at the altar on national TV.
In the bottom of her purse, she found her phone. It still had half a charge, and she’d rather poke out an eye than make the call, but it was the right thing to do because she needed to:
Take responsibility.
Stop running.
Make amends to those she’d hurt.
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as the phone rang.
“Lexie?”
“Hi, Pete.” Uncomfortable silence filled her ear, stretching until she said, “I’m sorry.”
“What happened?”
“I thought you should marry someone who’s in love with you.” Again silence. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just didn’t know how else to stop it.”
“You could have said something.” His voice grew tight with anger. “Instead of running out on me.” He had a right to his anger, but marrying him would have been wrong for both of them.
“I know. I feel really bad. Saying I’m sorry doesn’t make up for it.”
“You’re right.”
“We don’t really even know each other,” she reasoned. “We can’t possibly be in love, at least not the kind tha
t sustains a marriage for any length of time. We were just caught up in the excitement of the show. I hope we can both move on from this.” She blew out a breath as more silence stretched between them. “Maybe something positive can come from the experience. Maybe in time—”
“I got a two-hour special show out of it,” he interrupted.
“Wow.” Now it was her turn for silence.
“I’m in Acapulco taping it right now.”
“You went to Acapulco anyway?”
“Yeah. The beach is awesome.”
Seriously? She’d been in Sandspit and he’d been soaking up the sun?
“I’m on camera more than in Gettin’ Hitched. So, that’s cool.”
“What kind of show are you taping?”
“I think they’re going to call it Hitchin’ Heartbreak. I walk around looking sad and meet single women who try and comfort me.” He laughed. “This time I picked the women in the cast so I could make sure they’re all hot.”
“Well . . .” She couldn’t absorb it all. “I just called to apologize.”
“It worked out, I guess.”
“So . . . you’re not hurt?”
“I’m still a little pissed off that you ran out on me, but I guess you saved us from divorce. We don’t love each other.”
He was going to marry her even though he didn’t love her, but she wasn’t in a position to judge.
“It turned out okay in the end.”
For him. He was in Acapulco, lounging on the beach and being served umbrella drinks by women fighting over him. She was stuck in her parents’ house.
“I’m surrounded by only hot women. No corn teeth this time.”
No matter her feelings for Summer at the moment, the girl had fallen for Pete and deserved better than to be called “corn teeth.” That was just mean. A mean side of Pete Lexie’d never experienced, and she was relieved beyond measure that she hadn’t gone through with the wedding. “So . . . are we cool?”
The Art of Running in Heels Page 10