I felt an overpowering urge to prove to him that I had moved on with or without closure, and in this case, without. And not only that, but that I'd moved on to a much, much better guy. While Calvin was busy being an oily womanizer in California, I was not-I repeat, not moping around and pining over old photographs of him.
"That's him. See for yourself,” I said without thinking.
Calvin's eyes followed my gesture outside to the red Volkswagen Jetta parked at the nearest gas pump. The guy pumping gas into the Jetta was a couple years older than me. His brown hair was cropped, and it showed off the striking symmetry of his face. With the sun at his back, shadows marked the depressions beneath his cheekbones. I couldn't tell the color of his eyes, but I hoped they were brown. For no other reason than that Calvin's were a deep, lush green. The guy had straight, sculpted shoulders that made me think swimmer, and I had never seen him before.
"That guy? Saw him on my way in. plates are Wyoming."Calvin sounded unconvinced.
"Like I said, new in town.”
”He's older than you."
I looked at him meaningfully. "And?"
The door chimed and my fake boyfriend strolled inside. He was even better-looking up close. And his eyes were most definitely brown-a weathered brown that reminded me of driftwood. He reached into his back pocket for his wallet, and I grabbed Calvin's arm and hauled him behind a shelf stacked with Fig Newtons and Oreos. "What are we doing?" Calvin asked, staring at me like I'd sprouted two heads.
"I don't want him to see me,” I whispered.
"Because he's not really your boyfriend, right?"
"That's not it. It's-"
Where was a third lie when I needed it?
Cal smiled devilishly, and the next thing I knew, he had shaken off my hand and was ambling toward the front counter .I trapped a groan between my teeth and watched, peering between the two top shelves.
"Hey,” Calvin said affably to the guy, who wore a buffalo-check flannel shirt, jeans, and hiking boots.
With barely a glance up, the guy tipped his head in acknowledgment.
"I hear you're dating my ex,” Calvin said, and there was something undeniably smug in his tone. He was giving me a taste of my own medicine, and he knew it.
Calvin's remark drew the full attention of the guy. He studied Calvin curiously, and I felt my cheeks grow even hotter.
"You know, your girlfriend,” Calvin prodded. "Hiding behind the cookies over there."
He was pointing at me.
I straightened, my head surfacing above the topshelf. I smoothed my shirt and opened my mouth, but there were no words. No words at all.
The guy looked beyond Calvin to me. Our gazes locked briefly, and I mouthed a humiliated I can explain. . . . But I couldn't.
Then something unexpected happened. The guy looked squarely at Calvin, and said in an easy, unruffled voice, "Yeah. My girlfriend. Britt."
I flinched. He knew my name?
Calvin appeared similarly startled. "Oh. Hey. Sorry, man. I thought-"He stuck out his hand. "I'm Calvin Versteeg,” he stammered awkwardly. "Britt's . . . ex."
"Mason."
Mason eyed Calvin's outstretched hand but didn't take it. He placed three twenties on the counter for Willie Hennessey. Then he crossed to me and kissed my cheek. It was a no-frills kiss, but my pulse thrummed just the same. He smiled, and it was a warm, sexy smile. "I see you haven't gotten over your Slurpee addiction, Britt."
Slowly I smiled back. If he was game for this, then so was I. "I saw you pull in, and needed something to cool me off." I fanned myself while gazing up at him adoringly.
His eyes crinkled at the edges. I was pretty sure he was laughing on the inside.
I said, "You should stop by my house later, Mason, because I bought a new lip gloss that could use a test run. . . .”
”Ah. Kissing game?" he said without missing a beat.
I shot a covert glance at Calvin to gauge how he was handling the flirting. Much to my enjoyment, he looked like he'd caught a mouthful of lemon peel.
"You know me-always spicing things up,” I returned silkily.
Calvin cleared his throat and folded his arms over his chest. "Shouldn't you be heading out, Britt? You really should get to the cabin before dark."
Something undecipherable clouded Mason's eyes. "Going camping?" he asked me.
"Backpacking,” I corrected. "In Wyoming-the Tetons. I was going to tell you, but . . ."Ack! What possible reason could I come up with for not telling my boyfriend about this trip? So close to pulling this off, and I was going to blow it.
"But it seemed unimportant, since I'm heading out of town too, and we won't be able to spend the week together anyway,” Mason finished easily.
I met his eyes again. Good looking, quick on his feet, game for anything-even pretending to be the boyfriend of a girl he'd never met-and a frighteningly good liar. Who was this guy?
”Yes, exactly,” I murmured.
Calvin cocked his head at me. "When we were together, did I ever take off for a week without telling you?"
You took off for eight months, I thought snidely. And broke up with me on the most important night of my life. Jesus said forgive, but there's always room for an exception.
I said to Mason, "By the way, Daddy wants to have you over for dinner next week."
Calvin made a strangled noise. Once, when he'd brought me home five minutes after curfew, we'd pulled into the driveway to see my dad standing on the porch tapping a golf driver in his palm. He'd marched over and smacked it against Calvin's black Ford F-I50, leaving a nice round crater. "Next time you bring her home late, I'll aim for the headlights,” he'd said. "Don't be stupid enough to need three warnings."
He hadn't meant it, not really. Since I was the baby of the family and the only girl, my dad had a grouchy streak when it came to the boys I dated. But actually, my dad was a lovable old bear. Still, Calvin never broke curfew again.
And never once had he been allowed to come to dinner.
"Tell your dad I could use a few more fly-fishing tips,” Mason said, continuing to hold up our charade. Miraculously, he'd also correctly guessed my dad's favorite sport. This entire encounter was starting to feel . . . eerie. "oh, and one more thing, Britt." He combed his hand through my hair, pushing it off my shoulder. I held perfectly still, his touch freezing my breath inside me. "Be safe. Mountains are dangerous this time of year."
I gawked with amazement at him until he pulled out of the gas station and drove off.
He knew my name. He'd saved my butt. He knew my name.