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Mason shouldn’t have snapped. He was annoyed with himself for being unable to tell the truth, and he took it out on her. “I’m sorry. I think the sun is making cranky.”
“Sure. I get that.” Ginny’s voice was flat. “Anytime you want to trade off, let me drive so you can take a break, let me know.”
“Will do.”
And that was that. The music drifting from the speakers didn’t do anything to hide the uncomfortable silence between them. Through another stop for gas, and the sun sliding past them in the sky, to land in front of the car, she stayed tight-lipped.
He’d fucked up, but he didn’t know what to do beyond apologize. He had a feeling if he did that too many times for the same thing, it would be one more reason for her to be annoyed.
Mason’s stomach growled. Day One and he was already sick of chips and cereal. He never thought he’d say that. “Do you want to stop for dinner?” he risked asking.
Ginny’s frown deepened. Great, what now?
She's more strapped for cash than you.
There was that. He shoved his own irritation aside. He started this. “It’s on me. To apologize for being an ass.”
“You weren’t.” A crack appeared in her scowl. “I shouldn’t have pried. It’s your life.”
“Dinner, then?”
“I can’t keep letting you treat me. Only if you let me pay you back when I get access to my money again.”
He probably wouldn’t. “An apology dinner doesn’t require payback.”
She sighed, but her expression was more relaxed than it had been in several hour. “All right.”
He took the next exit that promised both lodging and food, and pulled into a Cracker Barrel parking lot.
“Ooh, you’re taking me someplace fancy.” The teasing was back in her voice. Hesitant, but there.
He’d missed her playfulness. How was that possible after just a day? “Only the best for my partner in road trip mischief.”
“I like the sound of that. We’ll have to figure out a way to make it true.”
They headed inside. His mind took the opportunity to race ahead with what mischief could mean. And there was his imagination, back with vivid memories mingled with fantasy, of Ginny in various stages of undress and grinding against him.
Desire raced under his skin as the thoughts grew more vivid. Diving between Ginny’s legs. Tasting her. Making her moan and climax, before fucking her hard and fast.
That made walking awkward, and he tried to be subtle about adjusting himself.
The hostess showed them to their table. As she left, Ginny squeezed Mason’s arm. “I’m going to wash up. I’ll be right back.”
“Sure.” He settled into his seat. He grabbed his phone, and scrolled through messages. Mostly junk.
Except for the email from Trina, with the subject line Looking Forward to Seeing you in a Few Days.
His heart skipped, and he cursed the reaction. The message was an automated reminder sent to a mailing list, complete with the Unsubscribe at the bottom.
The photo made his breath catch. Trina laughing and looking as incredible as he remembered. With Spencer.
What was Mason doing? Chasing a shadow of the past who was happier now than he’d ever seen her with him. Where did he go wrong?
“Trina is the bride?” Ginny’s question caught him off-guard.
Well, fuck. He was about to get an earful.
And he deserved it.
*
GINNY TOOK HER SEAT, a jumble of unidentifiable emotions scattering inside. At least now she knew why Mason was so elusive about the entire girlfriend thing.
“It’s cool,” she said. “You do you.”
Did he see through the lie? She tried to pick her thoughts apart. Trina was cute in that girl-next-door kind of way. Like the real-life version of the illusion Ginny tried to project on stage.
“When I said girlfriend... She’s an ex. It was easier than going into details.” Mason had put his phone away, and was fiddling with edge of his napkin.
“It’s really okay. You don’t owe me an explanation. Though I’m going to my ex-girlfriend’s wedding would have been easy to say.” She snapped her jaw shut before any more emotion leaked into her words.
What did she care? This guy was a ride. Certainly a better option than she’d dared hope for. Friendly. Safe. So what if she’d had a couple of daydreams? She did that with celebrities too, with little thought for their personal lives.
Who gave a fuck if Mason was a little obsessive over a woman who was marrying someone else?
Except that was the opposite of safe. Was that why it bothered her?
Mason tore tiny pieces from the napkin, and dropped them in a growing pile. “There’s a lot of connotation there, and I didn’t know how you’d react. And not you specifically, but anyone.”
She was struggling to bite her tongue. “I mean it. I get it.” She didn’t want three-plus more days of the uncomfortable silence that had been their ride today. This was none of her business.
“I’m sorry I got defensive earlier.”
Because he knew his behavior wasn’t quite right.
“It’s fine. Water under the bridge,” she said.
And that chasm of silence was back between them. They placed their orders, and she tried go cheap. Her mouth watered when Mason ordered the burger with extra fries.
Ginny hesitated, then grabbed the waitress before she could walk away. She didn’t want to owe Mason, especially now, but she’d pay him back. “Actually, I changed my mind. Can I get the same as him?”
“Sure, hon.” The woman made a note and walked away.
“I like that about you.” Mason’s tone was hesitant, but sincere.
“What’s that?”
“You don’t make a big show out of being dainty and not eating too much.”
“Nah. I love my food.”
He chuckled and patted his gut. “I know that feeling.”
Because he was sweet and cuddly with an underlying current of sexy. And he was stalking his ex.
The silence was back.
This sucked.
Another song came over the loud speakers. Something about black Cadillacs and a funeral.
Ginny had heard it a few times, but tonight the lyrics about two women unknowingly vying for the attention of the same man held a different meaning.
She wanted to smack herself for caring. She wasn’t vying for Mason’s attention. Even if she’d hooked up with him, it would only be for sex. And given the hints of hang-ups that he had, casual sex probably wasn’t even a thing on his list.
She definitely wasn’t sulking because some guy treated her well, and she read too much into it.
Their food arrived, and she nibbled at her fries. “It’s just—”
“What?” He looked at her with expectation.
She didn’t want to do this. “Never mind.”
“Okay.” He took a bite of his burger.
She should follow his example. “This Trina girl is marrying someone else. She’s an ex for a reason. Does going to the wedding prove that you’re a good guy? It won’t change her opinion of you one way or the other. She either already knows who you are or doesn’t want to. She invited you to be polite. And calling her your girlfriend when she’s not, even to a random stranger—” Ginny snapped her mouth shut. “I’m done.” But she wasn’t. This gnawed at her. As much as she tried to tell herself it was all for Trina’s sake, she didn’t want to be wrong about Mason. She wanted—almost needed—him to be the guy she fantasized about.
That was fucked up. Her residency director would probably have all sorts of analysis about her behavior.
Mason took a long swallow of Coke, then set his glass down with a sigh. “I knew you’d take this wrong.”
How many ways were there to take it? “I need to stop talking.”
“Probably a good idea.” The edge in his voice sliced through her.
“Fine. Brush my concerns off. But you really shouldn’t be going.”
He rolled his eyes. “Because someone who takes their clothes off for a living and sells the implication of sex—not even actual sex, you’re just the trial sample—is someone I want to take relationship advice from?”
The words dug deeper than she thought possible. Ginny should laugh them off, and pretend she didn’t care. Hell, she should thank him for the reminder that even the people who looked nice on the surface were assholes underneath. “Good point. Fuck you, too.”