Misadventures With My Fake Fiancé

Mike Ostranski was Paul Bunyan personified: tall, brawny and frequently in a flannel shirt. He had gorgeous red hair, muscles that rippled and bulged in all the right places. And another bulge that I would never forget. He oozed testosterone from his pores and women were drawn to him like bees to honey. I knew that all too well.
To top it off, he was a doctor. Smart, hot, and sexy all rolled up in one. He was easily Bozeman's most eligible bachelor. Many women I knew thought so. He was a podiatrist and dealt with people's feet all day, which didn't hold much appeal for me. On the other hand, I dealt with kids who ate paste and, on occasion, wet their pants, so it was all relative.
“A woman fawning over you? That doesn't sound like a bad thing for a guy. In fact, it sounds like every man's dream.”
“Yeah, you'd think so. But no. This is a total nightmare. She's talking marriage and arctic-reared children. I've only known her for four days. Wedding bells? More like looney bin.”
“How much longer are you up there? Can't you just hold out a little longer until you have to leave?”
“Another week. Violet, the woman was naked. In my bed.”
A slice of jealousy ripped through me, even if he'd only been mine for one night. I didn't even want to think about how many women he'd been with since. “I still don't get it.” I tucked my slippery hair behind my ear. “What man complains about a naked woman in his bed?”
I felt Jane's eyes boring into the back of my head. I couldn't blame her interest. The conversation was intriguing.
“In this case? I do. When I want a woman in my bed, I promise you, she'll know it.”
“Oh, I know it all right,” I grumbled, well aware my time with him had been short-lived, so short in fact that he'd quickly moved on. I could have said it had been a summer fling, but it hadn't even been that. We'd grown up together, been only boy and girl for a stretch, then boy and girl who were attracted to one another but were too nervous to do anything about it. One summer night when we were sixteen, we'd made a pact. A pact that said we'd sleep together on graduation night if we were still virgins.
Since deep down, I had only wanted Mike, it was a pact I'd easily made and eagerly anticipated being fulfilled. I'd been a virgin when we graduated from high school. Mike must've felt the same, or hadn't had the moves to get into a girl's pants, because he had been one, too. So we had one night. One time when we'd been something to each other. To show how much we'd felt for each other, how much of our feelings we'd saved up. Kept special just for each other. Our firsts.