Maybe This Summer (Colorado Ice #2.5)(5)

“No, that’s okay.” She already had. “I think I’ll go with them—their quote came in on budget.”

“Great,” Isabelle said as she stood. She approached the door, then hesitated. “I’m going to a try out a new yoga studio tonight. I thought you might be interested…”

She didn’t glance up, her chest tightening at the thought of the familiar activity they used to enjoy together. “Hot yoga?”

“Yeah, but…”

“No thank you—I’m good,” she said, still not looking away from the folder, desperate to avoid seeing the look of disappointment she knew would be on her mother’s face.

She missed the time together, too.

“Okay,” Isabelle said, shutting the office door behind her.

Reaching for the phone, she caught sight of her exposed wrist as her suit jacket rose slightly, and she tugged at the fabric.

People would benefit from her story.

How many times over the last five years had she heard that? From her mother, her psychologist, her doctors, her support group…She didn’t buy it yet. How exactly could people benefit from a story about human cruelty and hatred?

And if the story they were referring to was her ongoing road to recovery, her bravery and strength in light of her tragedy, her courageous spirit as she put the pieces of her life back together, well, first she’d need to believe that version of the story herself.





Chapter 2



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.