Free Bait & Switch by Darlene Gardner Page B

to their exchange with his arms crossed over his chest and a smile playing about his lips. The boy looked so hopeful she searched for a way to let him down easy. “Thanks, but I’m not into scary things.”
    “Too bad,” the boy said. “Horror’s the bomb.”
    Mitch had the audacity to catch her eye and smile, as though they were on good enough terms to share a private moment. She’d straighten him out, but good.
    The trio of boys rushed back, announcing that Field Four was empty. Things happened quickly after that. Peyton assigned the Death to play the Heads and instructed the Moons and the Eyes to stay where they were. The players went off to start their games and quite suddenly she and Mitch were alone on the sidelines.
    She hazarded a look at him. The last vestiges of the sun had disappeared from the sky, and the overhead lights were flickering to life. His mouth kicked up in that half-grin that made her stomach do crazy things.
    “Thank you,” he said. “That’s about the nicest thing anybody ever did for me.”
    Peyton’s stomach flipped so hard that for an insane moment she was tempted to grin back at him. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.“Don’t you dare accuse me of being nice to you!”
    The space between his eyebrows knotted. “But you were.”
    “I wasn’t being nice. I was being. . . humane. That crowd was about to turn on you.”
    “Then thanks for being humane to me.”
    “Oh.” She let out an angry sound and balled her hands into fists. “Can’t I do anything without it being about you?”
    “What?”  
    “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m angry.”
    “I had noticed.” He ran his hands through his hair, lending it a tousled, just-out-of-bed quality. Peyton could have flogged herself for letting her thoughts run to Mitch and bed. “This is about the ball, isn’t it? I tried calling you a bunch of times   to apologize, but couldn’t reach you.”
    Peyton didn’t have any missed calls on her cell but supposed it was possible he’d phoned her at home. “Then why didn’t you leave a message?”
    “I wanted to apologize to you, not to an answering machine.”
    “Give it up, Mitch.” She let her sarcasm show. “You and I are through.”
    “Then what are you doing here?”
    She needed to think about that for a moment. “Telling you we’re through.”
    “Why the personal visit? Why didn’t you just call and say we were through?”
    “Because you didn’t answer your cell.”
    “I didn’t?” he asked, as though that came as a surprise to him. He focused on her, squinting his eyes and shaking his head. “That’s not it. I think you wanted to see me in person.”
    “Why would I want that?”
    “So I could talk you out of breaking up with me.”
    “That’s ridiculous.” She noticed a lock of his dark hair swirling across his forehead. That was strange. Didn’t it usually swirl in the opposite direction? She stopped herself from brushing it back from his face. “You can’t change my mind about dumping you.”
    He cocked his head. “You don’t want to hear why I had to leave the ball early?”
    “No!” Peyton refuted. Except she was already here. What would it hurt to listen to his explanation? “Why?”
    “Because—”
    “You better not say anything about Ho Hos or dead rock stars,” she interrupted.
    “Will you let me explain?”
    She put her hands on her hips, giving him some attitude. “Go ahead. Talk.”
    “I have a second job tending bar.” He looked her straight in the eyes. “If I hadn’t showed up for work, I would’ve been fired.”
    Of all the things she’d expected him to say, that wasn’t one of them. Then again, it explained so much. Since they’d started dating, he’d been about as reliable as the tour-guide business in the dead of winter.
    “How long has this been going on?” she asked.
    He seemed to be mentally adding up days. “About a month.”
    A month. All of a sudden, the broken dates and early exits made sense. Why