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“Look, Drew. I’ve got nothing left to say to you, so if you don’t mind, and please pardon my French, fuck off!”
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Drew steadied her resolve,not wanting to wilt in front of Maisie and the unexpected audience of bystanders. It wasn’t just that the woman was staring daggers at her that made Drew’s legs shake. Her whole body had become one giant flood of hormones, reminding her why she’d been so taken with the woman in Vegas.
That soft skin. Those stunning eyes. Those breasts that—
No!
If Drew went there, she’d never claw her way back.
“I’m afraid you can’t avoid me,” Drew said with all the sensibleness she could muster. “We have to talk.”
“Oh,nowyou want to talk?” Maisie stuck her hands on her hips, anger radiating from every pore. “Do you know when it would have been a good time to chat about whatever it is you want to discuss? That morning in Vegas. But no, you were a fucking coward and left without even saying goodbye.”
“That’s not how it played out.” Drew clenched her fists, barely stopping herself from stomping a foot like a toddler having a tantrum. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that was what Maisie thought had happened, but it wounded Drew to be accused of such callousness. She couldn’t help but notice how the two strangers—Maisie’s friends, Drew presumed—stared at her like they wanted to rip her head off.
“My life has gone up in flames since that night. Do you have any idea what I’ve been going through?” Maisie’s voice cracked, and Drew feared tears were imminent. What the hell had happened since they’d parted ways, and why did it sound like Maisie thought it was Drew’s fault?
“Can we go into your apartment to discuss this in private?” Drew begged. She rubbed her hands together, blowing on the gloved fingertips like it would make a difference. “It’s not exactly spring yet.”
“No, we can’t, because it isn’t my apartment anymore, and I already dropped my key in the lockbox. Something else that’s entirely your fault!”
“What are you talking about?” Drew could tell from the way Maisie’s friends both swiveled their heads, like a tennis ball had just been lobbed onto Maisie’s side of the court, that this accusation was news to them, too.
“That night we were together and had way too much to drink, I texted my boss telling him what I thought and quit my job.”
“I’m so sorry, but I’m not sure how I played a role in that.” Even as she proclaimed her innocence, Drew tensed a little. The truth was, she had no idea what had taken place that night, and it made her nervous to contemplate that Maisie might have more intel about it than she did.
“Of course not because accountability isn’t your thing, is it?”
“It’s not my fault you can’t hold your liquor!”
“I can’t—wait. Let me show you.” Maisie reached for her phone from her back pocket, scrolling, until her eyes gleamed with victory. “I have it on video.”
Drew shrank back as the sound of her own voice, inebriated but still recognizable, came from the device. The image was blurry, but the shape of a cowboy hat was easy to make out, along with bright lights whipping behind the shadowy silhouette, which seemed to be riding in some type of convertible along the Vegas strip.
“You should tell him exactly what you think,” Drew-in-the-video slurred, while another female—presumably Maisie—could be heard giggling off camera. “Or give me the phone, and I’ll give that Taite guy a piece of my mind. Nobody treats my girl like that.”
Maisie snatched the phone back, stopping the video. “See?”
Drew’s stomach twisted as she tried to digest the unsettling evidence. She was about to break the silence that had descended on the group when one of Maisie’s friends beat her to it.
“Wait a minute, Maisie. Are you gay?”
“What?” Maisie twirled around to face her two companions, whose presence she appeared to have forgotten.
Confusion washed over Drew. Why were they asking this question? After all, Maisie was the one who’d kissedherin the stable that first time.
“Yeah, I was kind of wondering, too,” the other friend added.
“I thought you two had bowling to get to,” Maisie snapped.
“I don’t think we’re in that much of a rush,” the first friend replied, not even attempting to hide her nosy eagerness. “So, are you?”
“No, Donna.” Maisie was turning greener by the second, her eyes threatening to bug out of her head like a character from a Saturday morning cartoon. “I’m not gay. Geezus.”
“You’re not?” It was Drew’s turn to express shock as Maisie’s revelation punched her in the gut.
