Maybe This Summer

by Jennifer Snow

  She’d actually been having a good time. He was sweet and funny and easy to talk to. She’d never have expected to enjoy herself, but she had been. And she certainly hadn’t expected to feel the sudden urge to kiss him or to act on it, but she had. She’d gone with an unexpected, foreign impulse in the heat of the moment.

  She was an idiot.

  “Paige!”

  She kept walking.

  “Paige, please just wait a sec.”

  She didn’t stop. “Don’t worry about it, Owen,” she called over her shoulder.

  He touched her shoulder and she moved away. “Look, I’m sorry. Ben and Olivia had set up this blind date weeks ago…”

  Her hands clenched at her sides. “And you were hedging your bets—I get it. Now, get lost.” She turned to continue walking, but he jogged several steps ahead of her and walked backward as he talked.

  “I really didn’t even think you’d show up tonight, and the last thing I expected was that things would be going so well.” His pleading desperate look meant nothing to her. She wouldn’t fall for any more of his bullshit. She hated to think that the evening had just been a ploy to…what? Get her into bed?

  “Had been going well. Go back to your friends,” she said.

  “Paige, please…”

  “No, you were right to book two dates tonight, because you certainly weren’t going to get anywhere with me.” That kiss had been a crazy, impulsive act. Nothing else would have happened even if his second date for that evening hadn’t shown up. She might have let her guard down a bit, but she knew she’d never be able to fully relax and trust someone to get any closer than she’d let him that evening.

  Which made her feel a little like a hypocrite for even being upset.

  Crossing the street, she hailed a cab in front of the five-star hotel and climbed inside. “Five seventy-four Alpine Street, please,” she told the driver.

  “What do I do about the guy chasing after the cab,” he asked, glancing into the rearview as he pulled out into traffic.

  “Try not to hit him.”

  * * *

  Ben and Olivia stared at Owen with identical expressions as he slid into the booth across from them. His blind date had disappeared.

  Naturally.

  “Please don’t say it,” he mumbled, draining his beer in one big gulp. Chasing after a cab for three blocks was exhausting.

  “Jan hadn’t been on a date for almost a year since her divorce,” Olivia said anyway.

  He was a moron. Paige and Jan both deserved better. “I’m sorry.”

  “You should be. It’s going to take me months to get her to agree to another setup.”

  “Tell her it was no reflection on her. She seemed lovely…” From what he could tell of the pretty brunette he’d rushed out on to chase after another woman, she would have been nice company. He, on the other hand, was an asshole. “I’m going to call it a night,” he said, standing and grabbing his coat.

  “Oh, hey, before you do, take a look at this,” Ben said extending his phone toward him. “Recognize her?”

  He leaned closer. The beautiful model on the advertisement for Blissful Cosmetics was smiling as she posed on a beach, wearing an almost see-through white string bikini, her blond hair flowing in the wind behind her, a teasing glint in her pretty blue eyes. “Is that Paige?”

  “Yep. I didn’t know, but Olivia said she’d thought she recognized her as the Blissful Cosmetics spokesmodel from a few years ago.”

  Owen looked closer. It did look like her, but the model’s name was Paige Cartwright. “Cartwright?” Had she once been married? Cartwright…that last name sounded familiar. Isabelle—her assistant. Maybe also her mother? “She went from modeling to the head of the Burn Treatment Center?” Seemed like an odd transition. Especially since her beauty hadn’t seemed to fade at all since whenever this photo was taken.

  God, she was amazing. And he’d completely ruined any chance of being with her. Which would be depressing enough, but after kissing her and knowing that he’d stood a fraction of a chance…

  Ben took the phone back and searched her name in Google. “Read this.”

  Beauty queen viciously attacked with sulfuric acid.

  Owen read the news headline quickly. Scrolling through the article, he felt sick.

  First-degree chemical burns on more than thirty percent of her body after being attacked by the boyfriend of another model. The article went on to say both the man and the woman had been sentenced to twelve years in prison for the attack.

  Not long enough.

  Handing Ben his phone, he sank back into the booth, running a hand through his hair. She was one of the survivors she’d talked about that evening. It explained her passion for her job. It also explained the turtlenecks in warm weather and the protective shield she’d placed around her emotions.

  Feeling lower than dirt, he sighed. “Do you think there’s an asshole of the year award?” he asked Ben. “Maybe you can nominate me for that one.”

  Chapter 4

  Paige, I have Owen McConnell on hold again.”

  “Tell him I’m not available. Again,” she said, annoyance creeping into her tone. Before the other night’s disastrous date, his inability to accept no as an answer was irritating but at least bearable and the little bit flattering. Now, it was obnoxious and just reminded her of the embarrassing event. She’d managed to hold back the tears on the cab ride to her place. Tears that threatened to fall not because Owen had epically ruined their date, but because she’d trusted her instincts in opening up to him, and it had been a mistake.

  “And what do I do with the flowers?” her mother asked.

  “Take them to the maternity ward—help some poor schmuck stay out of the doghouse for forgetting to bring some.” Any reminder of Owen was not welcome in her office.

  “Paige.”

  “Mom.”

  Her mother sighed. “Fine. But whatever he did, he’s obviously sorry.”

  She clicked Disconnect on the intercom.

  What he did was make her think there was a small possibility that she could open up again. That perhaps five years was long enough to be alone and maybe she could find happiness. Then he’d crushed that delusion.

  But if she were placing blame, she knew she should shoulder most of it. She’d gone on a date she wasn’t ready for and kissed a man she hadn’t been ready to kiss, and honestly, she had been relieved as well as disappointed when things had gone sideways.

  Having drinks with him was a mistake. One she wouldn’t be making again.

  * * *

  “Sorry, Owen, she’s unavailable.”

  “Isabelle, we both know she’s avoiding me. Can you please just sneak me through?” he asked in his most convincing voice. “Tell her it’s someone else on the line?” He just wanted to apologize. That was all. He had no expectations of another shot or even forgiveness. He just wanted to apologize. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Mostly, about that one real moment of vulnerability and connection right before he’d screwed everything up.

  The golf tournament was a few weeks away, and he really wanted to make amends before then. Seeing her would be awkward enough without her completely ignoring him the entire day. How was he supposed to be Bernie at the event without talking to her?

  Maybe that was how. At least in costume she wouldn’t know it was him staring longingly at her.

  “I can’t do that. She’s not above firing her mother,” Isabelle said with a sympathetic laugh. “Look, you’ll be at the golf tournament, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Try to talk to her there. But don’t be too pushy. She doesn’t respond well to pushy.”

  That might be a challenge. “What else you got?”

  She laughed. “Stop calling. I’m busy.”

  “Okay. Got it.” He hung up the phone and opened his laptop. Non-pushy. He could do that. He typed “cookie delivery” into Google.

  He could do that after he sent cookies.

  * *
*

  “I have Veronica Morrison on line two,” Isabelle said later that day.

  Paige sighed with relief. This conversation would be a tough one, but at least it wasn’t Owen again. Flowers, cookies…he was groveling all right, and if she was remotely interested in a relationship, she might actually start to cave, but she wasn’t. Her resolve was rock hard. In fact, she was starting to think that things had turned out for the best. Getting to know him any more than she had would have just made things harder when she’d have to push him away.

  “Okay, thanks.” She cleared her throat as she picked up the line. “Hello, Mrs. Morrison. How are you today?”

  “Tired,” she said.

  Understandable. The Morrisons’ daughter had been brought into the treatment center the week before with chemical burns to her legs and lower back. She was being treated for hypovolemia as her body had lost too much blood from the burns. She knew the girl’s parents had barely left her side all week, taking shifts staying awake with her. “Try to take care of yourselves as much as possible. You’ll need your energy and strength. She’ll need that from you.”

  “We are trying. Anyway, you told me to call when we were ready to start talking to Ashley about next steps. She’s still in a lot of discomfort, and she refuses to say much about how she’s feeling. Spends most of the day and night crying.” Her voice broke, and Paige gave her a moment to recover. “But we’re afraid the longer we wait, the more depressed she’ll become, so we’d like to schedule something with the surgeon within the next few weeks.” The woman’s voice broke again, and Paige’s chest tightened. She’d been where the little girl was, and a week after her attack, she certainly had been depressed and angry. She’d gone back and forth between feeling sorry for herself, wanting things to get better quickly, and just wanting life to end. There were levels of darkness, and she’d experienced them all. She hadn’t even considered treatment for more than three months, so she was relieved that the Morrisons were taking action sooner. That way the entire healing process could start.

  “I’m glad you called.” She opened her folder on the little girl and read quickly. She was thirteen and a swimmer, active and healthy. She’d be a great candidate for camp in August if she was feeling up to it. Though that was probably too ambitious to hope for. “I will set a meeting with Doctor Madsen…”

  “Who is he?”

  “One of the best reconstructive surgeons in the country. He’s done…” She hesitated. This was part of the process, her job, but still the part she struggled with. “He’s performed all of my own surgeries, and I’m confident that he is the best choice for this. He’s compassionate and kind and patient.” Lord, he had been all three, but most of all patient with her.

  “Okay. We trust your judgment.”

  “I’ll set a meeting, and we will all meet with Ashley, just to talk. See where she is. What she wants to do and how soon.”

  “Okay,” Veronica sounded terrified.

  “It will be okay. We don’t have to make any decisions at the first meeting. Doctor Madsen will just explain the procedure options available, discuss success rates…”

  “You mean the scarring might not disappear completely?”

  An image of her own permanent, faded but always there scars flashed in her mind. “It varies for everyone. With the kind of burns your daughter suffered, there is no guarantee that they will ever fade completely, but we will talk about all of that with the doctor and with Ashley.” It was important for the family to realize that the little girl’s legs may never look exactly the same as before. And many surgeries might be needed. The path to recovery was a long one.

  “How soon can we meet?”

  She opened her email and sent a meeting request straight to Doctor Madsen. “We will want to schedule a time that works for both you and your husband.” It was important for both parents to be there. Everyone needed to know what all of this was going to entail—the sacrifices and commitments, the different emotions they would have to work through, and the toll it could take on the family.

  And even with all this knowledge, the journey would be a sometimes disappointing and frustrating one. But her job was to help give them hope, see a light at the end of it all. And while she still wasn’t completely sure she was the right one to instill confidence and strength, she would do her best.

  “We will make it, no matter when it is,” Veronica said.

  “Great. So, now for a more pleasant part—at these meetings we try to make things as easy and casual as possible. The tension is obviously still very high, and if we can help Ashley relax or give her something to be happy about…we try to do what we can. Is there something she’s particularly interested in right now? An activity she enjoys, nothing swimming-related obviously, but something she can do while she recovers? An event she’d love to attend?” They often got concert or sporting tickets for the weeks following surgery to give the kids something exciting to look forward to and something they could do to take their mind off of their recovery.

  “She loves to paint…and she’s a fan of sports. Hockey especially…”

  Hockey, right…Paige bit her lip.

  “Although it’s summer right now,” Veronica said.

  She took a breath. “Would a visit from the Colorado Avalanche’s mascot be something she might enjoy?”

  “Yeah, I think she would,” Veronica said, her tone slightly more relaxed. “After all, mascots are a sign of good luck and hope, right?”

  “Yes. Great. I’ll do my best.” Her email chimed. Dr. Madsen was free on July 21—the morning of her own surgery with him. “So, Dr. Madsen just confirmed a time he is available. Does July twenty-first at noon work? I know that’s still a few weeks away…”

  “We’ll be there,” Veronica said. “Thank you, Paige.”

  Disconnecting the call, she sat back in her chair with a sigh. Dr. Madsen was a go. The patient’s family was a go. Now she needed Bernie. Which meant reaching out to the man she was avoiding.

  * * *

  He couldn’t believe he was doing this. Opening the mailbox on the corner of his street, Owen slid the nomination acceptance form into the slot. The decision regarding that year’s inductee into the Mascot Hall of Fame would be made in August and he’d thought, what the hell, it might be good publicity for the team before the season started. Ben had already nominated Bernie anyway, so all he had to do was confirm that if chosen, he was willing to participate in the awards ceremony and a Q&A session with fans at the Colorado Sports Hall of Fame. He could do that. Besides, the Colorado Avalanche had just won the Stanley Cup, so if Bernie ever had a shot of making it into the hall, it was now.

  And who was he to deny the Saint Bernard the pleasure?

  Sighing, he pushed through the door to the Starbucks and smiled at Kim, the usual barista.

  “Hey, Owen. How are you?”

  “Living the dream,” he said.

  “You’re cute.”

  Yeah, cause cute was what a guy strived to be. Cute wasn’t what a strong, independent woman like Paige deserved. She deserved the best. When he’d been playing hockey, he’d felt like the best, or at least close enough, and his time in the Marines had given him a sense of pride in himself, too…now he was struggling to regain that confidence in himself. But he needed to if he was ever going to feel good enough for Paige. “Can I have a double, please?”

  “Wow, rough night?” she asked as she made the double espresso.

  The last few nights had been rough as he’d battled with the stupidity of his actions. Worse, he couldn’t get Paige out of his mind. He’d Googled her himself countless times, and he knew all about her attack, her road to recovery, the great work she did for the Burn Treatment Center…His attraction for her magnified every time he read something new about her.

  She was a survivor. She was strong and brave and even more beautiful now than when she’d posed for magazines worldwide…he wondered if anyone was telling her that.

  He wanted to be the one to tell h
er that.

  His cell phone rang and he blinked, seeing her office number on the screen.

  Was fate giving him the opportunity? Taking his espresso with a smile and a nod to Kim, he carried it outside as he answered the call. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Owen, it’s Paige.”

  “Thank you for calling me back…”

  “I’m not calling you back. I’m not calling you. I’m calling the promotions manager for the Avalanche.”

  Oh. Okay, they could start with business, but there was no way she was hanging up without hearing him out. “What do you need?”

  “Bernie.”

  Of course. “When?”

  “July twenty-first at noon.”

  The day after the golf tournament. “At the hospital?”

  “The Burn Treatment Center. There’s a little girl—Ashley—who loves the Avalanche. Normally we’d get tickets to a game, but seeing as how it’s summer, a visit from Bernie is the next best thing.” Her voice was tight, cool, distant.

  Still, the memory of her arms around his neck, her lips pressed against his, reminded him that she did have a softer side. One he desperately wanted to explore again. “July twenty-first at noon. No problem.”

  “Shouldn’t you check with him first?”

  “He’ll be there.”

  “The center is happy to pay any fees associated with his appearance. I wouldn’t expect him to donate his time for us two days in a row like that.”

  “He’s happy to help. There’s no fee.”

  She sounded hesitant. “Oh…okay. Well, thank you. Bye, Owen.”

  “Wait, before you hang up, just hear me out.”

  Silence.

  “You still there?”

  “Barely.”

  He’d take it. “I’m really sorry about the other night. It was a dumb thing to do…I just never thought someone as perfect as you would ever be attracted to a guy like me. But then there was a connection, a spark between us. I know you felt it, too. And that kiss confirmed it. It was a fantastic date, and I’m beating myself up over hurting you.” He paused. “I just wanted you to know that.”