CHAPTER NINE
Sweaty strands of hair fall in my face, but I ignore them. My whole focus is on the tub in Cabin Three—making sure it’s clean, making sure it sparkles.
If I’m not careful, I’ll scrub a hole right through the porcelain.
I knew better than to soften my heart to a summer boy.
I knew better.
If I’m hurting, it’s my own fault. Summer boys are cheaters. They leave their regular lives, come to Colorado, have flings with the local girls, and then go back to their girlfriends in the fall, pretending nothing happened in the months they were gone.
That’s what Thomas did, except he went above and beyond. He cheated on his girlfriend with me, and then he cheated on me with Gia.
In my mind, Thomas’s face blurs with Landon’s. They become one and the same—the boy who has a girlfriend back home but shamelessly flirts with the meaningless girl he meets on vacation.
“Your mom should give you a raise,” a male voice says from behind me. “You’re putting a lot of effort into cleaning that crazy-white tub.”
Landon.
I whip around, seething mad. “What are you doing here?”
His eyes widen with surprise, and he looks torn between responding with shock or laughter. “Your uncle said you were here. I’m going to go out on a limb and guess I’ve done something to upset you.”
I toss the scrub brush in the tub and rip off both of my long, yellow cleaning gloves as I stand. “I watched your videos last night. Straight through.”
Slowly, he raises his eyebrows, waiting for me to continue. Something about the fact that he won’t even fess up to what he knows I learned irks me even more.
And then the anger leaves me. Like a puff of smoke, it’s gone, and I’m left feeling…nothing.
“You have a girlfriend,” I say, letting my hands fall to my sides.
He crosses his arms, and his expression grows cool. “You watched the videos chronologically, I assume.”
That’s how he responds? Who cares what order I watched them in?
I hold my hands out—a silent “so?”
“You started at the beginning, watched until you saw the footage with Evie, and then you decided I’m a jerk and quit?”
Actually, I fell asleep. I guess I’m a glutton for punishment because before I drifted off, I kept watching, playing video after video until unconsciousness found me.
“We broke up in February.” He stares at me, his face unyielding. “It’s not something we made a big deal of in the videos, but Hunter mentioned it.”
Crossing my arms, mirroring his guarded pose, I study him. His light manner is gone, replaced with something we share. Hurt.
They didn’t just break up. Evie left him—I have no doubt.
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling sort of awful—but still a little betrayed, even if it’s not justified.
Landon doesn’t respond, doesn’t even flinch.
“So, what was this?” I motion a hand between us. “From the look on your face, I can tell you’re not over her.”
Finally, he moves. He looks down and lets out a frustrated breath. “This was me trying.”
Trying to move on, trying to act normal. I get it. I really do.
The sleepless night catches up with me, and I walk out of the bathroom and sink onto the edge of the bed. “Last summer, a guy started hanging around the campground,” I begin, needing to share my own story. “He was cute; he was interesting. He comes to Gray Jay with his family every summer, and I really liked him. We’d been together for two months when I caught him making out with another local girl at a town picnic.”
Landon watches me, staying silent.
“I was so hurt,” I admit, still feeling a twinge of pain now. “Two weeks later, Thomas’s actual girlfriend showed up to surprise him for his birthday. It was a surprise all right—she caught him with Gia.” I scowl at the comforter. “At least it wasn’t me.”
“Did you know he had a girlfriend when you were together?”
“No.”
Landon’s quiet for several long seconds as he processes the information, and then he says, “You are the queen of depressing stories.”
I jerk my head his way, meeting his eyes. There’s humor there—not much, but a little.
“My mom has been pushing me to ‘get back out there,’” Landon says almost wearily.
Slowly, I nod. “Mine too.”
“She likes you.”
“My mom likes you as well.”
He gives me a sideways look. “They’ve been plotting.”
So, he’s noticed. The two have been spending all kinds of time together, forming a fast friendship over coffee and sewing projects, apparently plotting ways to “fix” their broken children.
Landon’s face softens, and he sits next to me. “How long do you think it will take to get them to leave us alone?”
“About three months, give or take a few weeks.”
A morbid smile stretches across his face. “When we leave.”
“When you leave,” I agree.
He turns his head and studies me. “What if we give them what they want?”
Apparently not all the butterflies are dead because one gives a half-hearted wing wiggle in my stomach. “What?”
“Be my girlfriend, just for the summer. If they think we’re together, they’ll dream up another project and leave us alone.”
“Like…fake girlfriend?”
It sounds lame…but it’s not entirely ridiculous.
“It wouldn’t be a terrible thing to have you by my side when Thomas shows up,” I muse out loud as I run an appraising eye over him. Not terrible at all.
Landon laughs—it’s a real laugh too, not a morbid one. “I’m nearly positive Evie still watches our channel.”
I picture her—this ex-girlfriend. I’m sure she’s pretty. Guys like Landon don’t usually date girls who aren’t.
I’m quiet for too long, and he looks over.
“You’re a little too charming for a fake girlfriend,” I say. “Why don’t you find yourself a real one?”
“I don’t have the energy for a real one.” He tilts his head to the side. “Why don’t you find a real boyfriend to throw in Thomas’s face?”
“I don’t have the patience for one,” I answer.
“Fair enough.” He holds out his hand. “So, how about it? Real friends, fake dating?”
I study him for several moments, and then I clasp my palm in his. “Yeah. Okay.”
***
Hand in hand, Landon and I walk into the coffee shop. Mom’s not here today, but since Betta sells her art, they talk often. It won’t take long for news of my date with Landon to reach her.
The bell tinkles over the door as we walk inside, and people glance our way. It’s packed for mid-afternoon, but I only recognize a few locals. It’s usually nothing but tourists this time of year.
“Hey, Betta,” I call, stepping up to the counter. The owner is about the same age as my mom, but her brunette hair grayed early. She chose to go the natural route, and she wears her almost white locks long and usually twisted up. She’s the organic, natural type, though I know for a fact she visits the pizza place every Friday evening with her niece for a deluxe pepperoni with extra cheese.
Betta’s eyes go between Landon and me, and a big smile lights her face. “Good afternoon, Lacey. You haven’t been in for a while.”
“We’ve been busy,” I tell her.
She shakes her head as she puts the finishing touches on a latte she’s working on. “Your mom says you work too much.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ve heard.”
Laughing, Betta hands the latte to the waiting patron and turns her full attention to us. She smiles at Landon. “And who might you be?”
Even though Landon isn’t a real boyfriend, I still feel my cheeks heating. This is what it’s like in a small town—everywhere you go, it’s like bringing a boy home to meet your parents.
“I’m Landon,” my incredibly good-looking, faux boyfriend says, giving Betta a smile.
Properly charmed, she laughs like she’s happy to make his acquaintance, but I know she’s actually delighted for new gossip. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Landon. Are you staying in Gray Jay long?”
I freeze as Landon casually drapes his arm over my shoulder, pulling me to his side like an affectionate boyfriend would. He gives me a squeeze, reminding me to play along. The problem is that I’m trying not to swoon.
He doesn’t need to know that though.
Betta nods as Landon tells her about his family’s summer plans, and I stand next to him, trying not to breathe in the clean scent of his deodorant. Who does that?
Another couple steps up behind us, and Betta realizes she better get back to work. “What can I get you two?”
We order, and then Landon pays before I can stop him.
“Why did you do that?” I hiss while we’re waiting for Betta to make the drinks.
“Because we’re dating,” he whispers back.
“I’ll pay you back,” I whisper.
He flashes me a flirtatious smile. “Don’t worry about it. I got it.”
If he keeps looking at me like that, I’m going to forget this is a ruse.
Betta hands us our drinks after a few minutes and commands us to go enjoy the sunshine while it lasts.
Landon holds the door for me as we leave the coffee shop, and then we amble down the road, sipping our drinks.
“Busy place,” Landon says. “Does she handle it all by herself?”
“Paige and a few other kids from school help out when she needs it. My mom steps in every once in a while too.”
“Doesn’t your mom have her hands full with the campground?”
“Yes, but it gives her a chance to talk to the people who ask about her sculptures in person. She enjoys it.”
“Can I ask you something?” he says after another long moment.
I nod.
“Where’s your dad? You mentioned him at the falls, but I didn’t want to pry.”
The question doesn’t sting anymore, not like it did when I was little, but I miss him, miss the idea of him. Things would be so different if he were still alive.
“He passed away when I was six. He had a rare form of pancreatic cancer.”
“I’m sorry,” Landon says, at a loss for words, as most people are when they first learn.
I tap his arm. “It’s okay—I’m okay.”
“So, your uncle came to live with you after that?”
“Yep. Mom couldn’t manage the campground and take care of me at the same time, so she was going to have to sell. Uncle Mark knew how much it meant to her and Dad, so he stepped in, started taking care of both of us.”
“And he’s your mom’s brother?”
“Dad’s brother.”
People don’t always know what to say to that at first. They jump to conclusions, assume that Mark and Mom’s relationship is romantic because Mark moved all the way to Colorado to help Mom out after Dad died. But it’s not like that. It would be weird if it were.
Mark’s become like a father to me, but he thinks of Mom as a sister, nothing more. We’re a strange little family—but a family all the same.
Landon says something else, but I don’t know what because I spy someone on the street I’d rather avoid.
“Let’s go this way—” I begin, already nudging Landon down a quaint, vegetable-garden-lined alley. But I’m too late.
“Lacey!” a girl calls in greeting, waving her hand to make sure I don’t miss her.
I growl under my breath, and though I think I’m quiet, Landon turns his head like he heard it. “Friend of yours?” he asks, saying “friend” in a questioning way.
The girl trots toward us, making her long braid bounce back and forth. She’s super short, barely five-foot, and her hair is naturally the shade of platinum blond the Hollywood types would kill for.
“Hey, Gia,” I say, working up a smile.
Landon’s lips part with understanding when he hears the name, but he doesn’t let on that we’ve talked about the home-wrecker before.
Gia stops in front of us, catching her breath. “I haven’t seen you in forever!”
She looks cute today, as usual, in short leggings, a jersey skirt, and a tank top that it’s not quite warm enough for. She’s always reminded me of those eighteen-inch dolls I used to play with—the quintessential girl next door…except she’s got curves in places those sorts of dolls don’t usually have.
She rocks an innocent yet flirty vibe that a lot of guys can’t get enough of, and I wasn’t ready for Landon to meet her. He’s only fake-dating me— nothing is keeping him from real-dating her. And the thought of Landon with Gia is enough to make my blood boil.
“I’m Gia,” she says, clasping his hand, holding it for a second longer than she should before she releases it.
“Landon,” my fake boyfriend says with a nod.
She eyes him, giving him a come-hither look that unsuspecting guys might misconstrue as friendly when it’s actually predatory. “Are you staying in Gray Jay?”
“At Lacey’s place,” Landon says. Then, smooth as ever, he wraps his arm around my back, resting his hand on the curve of my waist and pulling me to his side.
A little nervous Gia’s going to see right through the charade, I almost let out a slightly hysteric giggle. His hand is right above my hip, warm through the thin fabric of my T-shirt, and it’s making my mind wander in directions it has no right going.
I’m so preoccupied, I don’t register the next several moments of the conversation until Gia says, “So you’ll come?”
I stiffen. “Where?”
She laughs at my absentmindedness and tosses her braid over her shoulder. “To my great aunt’s house next Friday.”
Oh, no.
Misty Maguire’s teen nights are the lamest thing ever. The woman isn’t a day under eighty years old. Occasionally, she gets the wild idea to invite all the local teens and gives them free run of the big white barn on her property. She picks out a movie, creates a theme to go along with it, and shows it with a big projector on the side of the building.
The problem is, most of the movies are more age-appropriate for kids around Caleb and McKenna’s ages. Most of the couples end up sneaking into the barn to find a private corner of the hayloft, leaving the rest of us to drink juice boxes and silently bemoan our single status.
Yet all the local kids go because it’s impossible to have a social life here, and we’re that desperate for entertainment. But it’s not an event you bring summer boys to—not unless you’re trying to scare them away.
“Sounds great,” Landon says.
For just a second, Gia’s eyes flicker to the hand holding me close, and she frowns. Then she brightens again and gives us—more Landon than me—a big smile.
“Great!” she chirps and then holds up the shopping bag at her side. “I have to get back, but I’ll see you there.”
We say our goodbyes, and I watch her leave, my eyes narrowed and an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“So, that’s Gia, huh?” Landon asks, his arm still wrapped around my back.
“Yeah.”
“The one who stole your last boyfriend?” He says it with a teasing glint in his eyes—a sweet, affectionate glint I find most confusing.
“Yeah.”
He tugs me tight one last time before he lets me go. Then, lightly, just before taking a sip of his rapidly melting iced coffee, he says, “Well, no worries. She won’t steal me.”