Maybe This Summer (Colorado Ice #2.5)(6)
“I like the cold,” she said, staring at the forms. “Wow. You’ve been busy since Monday.”
He smiled. “Told you I knew some people. I mean, come on—who doesn’t remember summer camp and all the great times there, right? Every kid should get to go.” He’d actually been slightly overweight as a kid and had moved around a lot with a military family, so most of his lasting friendships, including that with Ben, had been made at Camp Timberline in Colorado. No matter where he lived, he came back for the summer.
“Agreed.” She reached for a folder on her insanely organized desk and slid them inside. Her smile was once again polite, but distant, and he had absolutely no reason to think it was a good idea, but out on a limb he went.
“Hey, was it just my imagination, or was there a connection between us the other day?”
“Just your imagination.”
“Damn. I never read these situations right. Tell me the truth, it’s the eye, isn’t it? The slightly cloudy effect makes you uncomfortable?” It was barely noticeable since his surgery, and he’d long ago come to terms with his accident overseas when he was a lieutenant in the Marine Corps.
Her head shot up. “I didn’t even notice your eye…”
Translation—she hadn’t noticed anything about him.
“Great, so do we have a date?”
“Um, no…there won’t be a date.”
“You have a boyfriend.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and waited for her to confirm she was unavailable.
She remained stone faced, giving him jack shit for information.
“Girlfriend?” Had he read things completely wrong?
She raised one eyebrow, but ignored his prodding. “I appreciate the sponsorships. Very impressive,” she said, making him pause.
“Impressive enough for you to dump your boyfriend/girlfriend and give me one quick coffee date? That’s all I need to sweep you off your feet.”
A hint of an amused smile. “Have a good day, Mr. McConnell.”
Shut down. Naturally. “Always a pleasure, Ms. Adams.”
*
Turning down a date had never left her with a lingering disappointment like the one she felt watching Owen say goodbye to her mom on the way out of the office. The guy had a permanent smile plastered on his face, making his already tempting good looks even more appealing, and she had to fight the urge to chase after him.
But she’d been refusing dates for so long, she wouldn’t even know how to act on one…and she sensed spending time with him would be dangerous.
Paige grabbed her purse and left her office for her lunch meeting with Dr. Madsen across town. Perhaps some people were just naturally happy all the time. Owen McConnell certainly seemed to possess that gene.
She used to smile a lot, too. Besides her six-foot frame, it had been her biggest asset for her modeling career. Blessed with perfect, straight teeth and full lips, smiling in front of the camera had been easy money and a life she’d never thought she’d be forced to walk away from.
“I’m heading out. I’ll be back in a few hours,” she told Isabelle as she passed the desk and handed Owen’s fundraising forms to her.
“He raised a lot of money since Monday,” she said, eyeing her.
She knew the look and the tone. “Forget it, Mom,” she said, leaving the office before her mother could give her a lecture about dating she’d heard too many times already.
She’d get back in the saddle when she was ready.
Never.
Climbing into her car a moment later, she cranked the AC. Then, unbuttoning the top few buttons on her blouse, she tossed her hair away from her neck. The sight of the melted-looking skin starting below her chin and extending beneath the collar of the blouse made her chest tighten. Four surgeries on that part of her body so far, and still no real improvement in the texture and repair of the damaged flesh. Four painful skin grafting procedures where the doctor had removed flesh from the base of her back and buttocks and transplanted it over sheets of collagen had failed to deliver the results they had in other parts of her body.
She knew she was lucky the sulfuric acid hadn’t hit her face. The damage to her skin on her chest, neck, and arms had been severe enough. The thought that it could have been so much worse had the acid gotten into her mouth, destroying her esophagus, or into her eyes, blinding her, made her shudder.
So many of the survivors she worked with every day hadn’t been as lucky, which was something she had to remind herself whenever moments of self-pity seeped in.
Like now, as she passed Brooks Boulevard and the billboard on her left displayed a new smiling spokesmodel for Blissful Cosmetics, the company she’d signed a six-figure modeling contract with six years before—the contract that changed her life. First for the better, as the realization of her dream came true, then in the form of a nightmare, as the boyfriend of the other woman who’d been up for the opportunity had attacked her outside her condo. He’d thrown the sulfuric acid so quickly, then time had passed as though she were in a terrifying haze. The hellish heat of the liquid on her flesh made her so desperate for something to cool it, she’d fallen to her stomach in a puddle of ice and melted snow on the ground, covering her skin. An ear-piercing shriek echoed around her and grew even more frantic when she realized it was coming from her. Then the two faceless, nameless good Samaritans who picked her up and rushed her to the emergency room.