Maybe This Summer

by Jennifer Snow

  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 desper
ate. 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?

  Chapter 3

  Suddenly her appointment with Dr. Madsen was the least of her worries. How on earth had she let her desperation to not spend her entire afternoon at the DMV make her agree to drinks with Owen McConnell?

  Her first date in more than five years, and she’d rather do just about anything else. It wasn’t him. She’d feel the same way if it were anyone…any man. Wouldn’t she? Or was it him? And the way her attraction to him unnerved her?

  Either way, she wasn’t ready for this yet.

  Her last relationship was before her life had changed. She thought she’d spend the rest of her life with Paul, a pre-med student she’d met while on campus posing for a university brochure photoshoot. He’d been good-looking, smart, funny, and caring. And strong enough to stay with her after the attack. He’d promised to be by her side, help her get through the nightmares, the pain, the long road to recovery…but she’d slowly pushed him away. She’d tried to push everyone away. And not everyone had the sheer will that her mother possessed to take the abuse she’d dished out in anger and not leave her completely alone.

  So many nights she’d cried herself to sleep replaying the hurtful words she’d uttered to the one person she could count on, hating that the maliciousness of her attack seemed to be becoming a part of her.

  But seeing her mother’s strength against her verbal and sometimes physical attacks had oddly enough given her the strength to fight to get her life back, and over time she’d let her mother in.

  But only her mother.

  And certainly not some stranger who had a way of seeing too much when he looked at her. Certainly not a handsome, successful man she’d Googled while waiting for Dr. Madsen. She’d been hoping to discover something she could use to justify canceling their date. A criminal record or something.

  Unfortunately, she’d learned he was a Marine who’d been awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for his bravery in saving a fellow soldier overseas, resulting in the loss of sight in one eye. The thought that because of his own accident, he might have the smallest understanding of what she was going through put him firmly on top of the list of men she’d rather not date.

  Connecting on any level with a man right now was not in her plans.

  So why she couldn’t bring herself to dial his number and make up an excuse for not going through with their drink date, she didn’t know. Unfortunately, while her brain was fully on board with her no-men rule, her body was betraying her. It had been forever since she’d been with a man—Paul being her last six years ago—and she was starting to really miss the intimacy.

  Six years. Damn, she was practically a nun.

  An image of Owen’s biceps and chest muscles staining against the fabric of his faded Avalanche logo shirt at the DMV flashed in her mind. If she had to choose someone to break her dry spell, he’d top the list.

  She forced several deep breaths. It was just a drink. One drink then she’d have paid her debt to him.

  Who knows—maybe he’ll be stuck at the DMV all evening.

  “My receptionist told me you were in here, but I have to say, I had my doubts,” the doctor said, entering a moment later.

  “I couldn’t get the window pried open,” she mumbled.

  “So, you’ve reviewed all of the procedure information?”

  Over and over before each surgery. She nodded.

  “And you’ve reached out to your support group?” He sat behind his desk and put on his bifocal glasses. “Talked to some of them about how you’re feeling trying this again?”

  Of course not. She nodded.

  “That was a lie, but moving on…” he said with a sigh. “We have an open slot for the procedure for July twenty-first.”

  The day after the golf tournament. “July is busy with the celebrity charity event and getting the applications approved for the burn camp in August…”

  He folded his hands and sat quietly as she rattled off the list of reasons that date wouldn’t work. “And then of course the real reason—you’re terrified of attempting this process again, getting your hopes up for positive results and knowing that, either way, you have to get on with living your life.”

  Her mouth opened, then closed. That wasn’t it, was it? She wasn’t holding on to her scars as a form of protection. She’d heard her support group leader say that was often the case…and her psychologist had suggested that she might suffer from what she’d referred to as “victim’s security”—an unwillingness to make things better for fear of having to live again. Nope. That wasn’t her. She was just busy in July. “Is there anything after July? August? September would be better.”

  He didn’t even check the schedule. “Nope.”

  “Doctor Madsen, I want this procedure,” At least a part of her did. Right? “But…”

  “Nope. No buts. I’m scheduling you in for July twenty-first, and it’s completely your choice if you show up, Paige,” he said, entering the information on his tablet.

  Immediately her phone chimed with a new email that she suspected was her appointment confirmation. Damn. Would she show up? For six years she’d gone through with them, out of hope at first, then more out of obligation, but when was enough enough? “Okay,” she said as she stood. “Thank you, Dr. Madsen.”

  The decision was weeks away. Right now, she had to decide whether or not she was going to show up for tonight’s date.

  * * *

  The Breezeway Bar was quiet at five thirty, as the after-work crowd had yet to wander in, and Owen made his way to his usual booth at the back. This was where he was meeting Olivia and Ben and his blind date later that evening, so it seemed like the logical place to meet Paige. He didn’t expect their drink to take long. He suspected she’d guzzle a glass of wine, refuse to let him pay, and take off within twenty minutes.

  If she showed at all.

  He’d barely had time to get home and shower and change after two more hours at the DMV, and his still-damp hair fell into his face as he set his jacket into the booth. Then he headed to the bar. He was nervous, and a beer would help take the edge off, help him relax a little until she arrived at their six o’clock scheduled time.

  He shook his head. Six o’clock. Earliest drink date in history. Might as well be a platonic day date. “Hey, Ricky,” he greeted the owner of the bar, stocking bottles of alcohol for the evening.

  “Hey, man—the usual?”

  He nodded.

  “You solo tonight?”

  He shook his head. “Actually I’ve double-booked dates for this evening,” he said, accepting the beer.

  “Well, that’s assholish,” Ricky said with a grin.

  “Trust me, I doubt the first one is going anywhere beyond this drink.” Not that he didn’t want it to. If she hadn’t agreed to the drink, he might have offered his next in line place to the person who’d pulled a ticket right after her, just to stay and hang out with her. Or rather, annoy the shit out of her. He remembered how she’d struggled with indecision on whether a drink with him was worth the quick in and out of the registration office or not. “She’s a little standoffish.” Though he had seen a look of—dare he say—interest flash momentarily in her eyes when her gaze had shifted to his body. Maybe he had the extra time at the
gym that week to thank for this one.

  “She’s not into you, you mean?”

  “If we’re being technical—yeah, that’s exactly what I mean.” But he was hoping to change that. He was ready to stop goofing around and start opening himself up to something real. Hiding behind the mascot costume had been easier in recent years as he’d struggled to figure out his place in the world now that hockey and the military weren’t options. But he needed to regain his confidence and start believing in himself again. It wasn’t the career that defined the man, right? He took a swig of his beer and nearly spit it back out as he saw Paige enter.

  Dressed in a pair of jeans that hugged her hips, a black turtleneck sweater, and short tan heeled boots, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she looked far too good to be meeting him. And early.

  The sound of her heels on the wooden bar floor kept pace with his thumping heart as she approached and stopped next to him.

  “Hi,” he said, sliding off of the barstool. “You’re early.”

  “Thought I’d have a drink to take the edge off. Looks like you beat me to it.” Her voice sounded strained, and she clutched her purse as she scanned the bar.

  He smiled. “Good to know I’m not the only one nervous.”

  “Who says I’m nervous?”

  “I can read body language.” And damn, what a body. His gaze did a quick once-over and his mouth went dry. She was the only woman who could wear a turtleneck in this heat and make it look hotter than any of the revealing, skin-baring tank tops walking around Denver. The way the light wool fabric clung to her breasts and tucked into her jeans, highlighting her tiny waist, prevented him from thinking clearly. Her soft perfume lingering on the space between them wasn’t helping either. She was so far out of his league. Talk about setting himself up for heartache. Shit.

  She cleared her throat, snapping him out of his trance.

  “What are you drinking?”

  “Um…gin and tonic, please,” she told the bartender.

  “Coming right up,” Ricky said, shooting him a look that confirmed he was right, this woman was definitely too hot to be interested in him.