“Oh, really? Tell me more about this puppy.” Mason raised an eyebrow and I made a face.

“His name is Kyle. He’s young. Just out of college. And he always wants me to teach him how to do silly computer hacks—”

Fuck, fuck, fuck! What was I saying?

Mason made it so easy to forget the lies. Forget the stories.

To forget to hide.

“Computer hacks? Should you be admitting that sort of thing to an FBI agent?” he teased, bumping me with his elbow.

I felt like I was going to pass out.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

For Mason it was a joke. Something he could laugh about.

He had no idea…

This was a reminder of how I couldn’t drop the act. Not for one single second.

“Nothing crazy, just how to send stupid gifs to people. Things like that. Kyle likes to mess around with our coworkers,” I remarked dismissively.

We got in line. Mason put his arm around my shoulder, holding me close. “Tell Kyle to watch out. He could get in trouble for things like that.”

Mason chuckled, not taking the conversation seriously. But I felt like I had been dunked in ice water. The chill went straight to my heart.

“Yeah, that’s what I keep telling him,” I said lightly, trying not to hyperventilate. We approached the counter and got our skates.

“So this Kyle wants to spend time with you. It sounds like he has a crush.”

I snorted. “I doubt it. I know for a fact the extent of his romantic interests involves anonymous Internet chat rooms.”

“Don’t underestimate your charms, Hannah Whelan. Any man with a pulse would be into you,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss me.

Thankfully all talk of Kyle was over.

We changed into our skates, putting our shoes and coats in a locker before hobbling across the floor to the rink. Mason gripped my arm tightly. “Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. I can barely stand upright on the damn carpet,” he complained.

“Should I get you one of the penguins so you can keep your balance?” I ribbed, indicating the row of plastic penguins in bright red hats for the young children to use so they wouldn’t fall.

Mason gave me a withering look. “I’m sure I can keep up.”

We took a step onto the ice and Mason immediately started flailing. He held on to my arm so tightly that I began to lose feeling in my fingers.

“Just take it slow—”

“Whoa!” Mason yelped, his legs coming out from underneath him. He fell onto the ice with a thud, taking me with him. I hit the ice hard, probably bruising a few bones in the process. We lay in a tangled heap as people skated around us.

“I’m so sorry,” Mason apologized, running his hands along my arms, my face, looking for injury.

Our eyes met and we both started laughing. And we couldn’t stop. We were grinning madly, not caring that our asses were numb.

Mason leaned over, his hand cupping the back of my head, pulling me toward him. He kissed me firmly. With intent. Possessive but oh so tender.

“Should we try this again?” he asked, sounding a little breathless. Was that from me?

“Just hang on,” I replied, just as breathless.

I got to my feet, a lot more confident in my abilities than Mason was. He clung to me and I didn’t care that his fingers hurt as they dug in.

“Slowly pick your feet up like you’re walking—”

Mason fell again, once more taking me with him.

“This is just sad,” he moaned as I cracked up again.

“Mister, I think you need this.” A little boy, no older than eight or so, stood beside us, holding on to one of the plastic penguins.

I glanced at Mason, wondering if his pride was hurt. Wondering how he’d react to publicly humiliating himself. Some men would get angry. Some would storm off.

Not Mason Kohler.

He slowly got to his very unstable feet and smiled. “Thank you. I really appreciate that,” he said.

“Maybe I should help you. You’re really bad at this,” the boy suggested, frowning as Mason struggled to hold on to the penguin.

Mason glanced at me and I hid my smirk behind my hand. “I think you should take him up on it, Mason.”

“I’ve been skating since I was five. I’m eight now. I’m on the hockey team and everything. I’m really good too,” the boy professed, his chest puffed out with pride.

“Well, it sounds like I couldn’t ask for a better teacher,” Mason agreed seriously.

I held out my hand, waving them on. “Don’t let me stop you. I’ll be over here,” I said. Mason smiled softly, kissing me before being led away by the boy as he rattled off directives.

He looked back at me periodically. I laughed when he fell, cheered when he stayed on his feet for longer than thirty seconds.

I noticed the looks people gave him. The women who watched him. The men who envied him. They all wanted what was mine.

Mine.

Was he? Did I want him to be?

Yes. I did.

I grinned at Mason as he started to become more confident. The boy finally left him alone, obviously bored with playing instructor. Mason started to skate back toward me and I pushed myself off the side, out onto the rink.

We met in the middle, my hands reaching out to take his.

“It’s not so bad once you get the hang of it,” Mason stated as his legs scissored underneath him precariously.

“You’re doing great,” I assured him.

“Only because I’m trying to impress you.” He grinned. I kissed him. Because I couldn’t help it. Not kissing him wasn’t an option.

“Consider me impressed,” I said.

And then we skated together. Slowly and carefully, but together.

And not once did I think about anything but Mason. And me. And how good it felt to be like this.

Like a real couple.

My heart felt incredibly full to the point of bursting.

And then it cracked and started to break.

It hurt to be with Mason in this way.

To see what an incredible man he was.

It was a painful reminder of all the ways I was a horrible person.

My plans for him now seemed so callous. So wrong.

The more time I spent with Mason, the harder it would be to extract myself from the life I was creating. The one where I was Mason’s girlfriend.

The one where I was starting to fall for him.

What was I going to do?