Page 38 of The Thing About My Rival

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

DREW

I open the pub door and almost slam straight into Joyce, Mona, and Winston on their way out.

“Whoa, look at you!” Joyce steps back to take me in from head to foot.

“Give us a twirl,” Mona commands. “Let’s see the whole thing.”

With an affectionate sigh, I hold out my arms and spin around, wobbling a little. “And a very good evening to you folks too.”

“Knockout,” Winston says.

“Well, look at the snuggle puppies you’ve been hiding under sports bras and sweatshirts.” Joyce circles her finger in the general direction of my breasts.

“You do look gorgeous,” Mona says. “The dress, your legs in high heels, the hair, the makeup.” She makes a chef’s kiss.

“Garrett said you were out for the evening,” Joyce says. “So where have you been all dressed up like this?”

All I want to do is wash my face, brush my teeth, and get out of these damn shoes, into my pjs and into bed. This evening has been exhausting, confusing, and, annoyingly, a little bit exciting. I really need to sleep off the delicious wine that’s clouding my judgment—the whiskey Hugo suggested we had at the end isn’t helping either.

But look at these three faces. How can I deny this bit of fun to the people who welcomed me into their clique like I was their favorite grandchild?

“Why, thank you, all.” I hold out the skirt of my dress and make a little curtsy. “I was at Pulacini’s.”

Winston makes a whistling sound. “Bet that cost a pretty penny.”

“So romantic.” Mona places a hand over her heart.

“A date?” Joyce asks. “Someone rich, if he took you there.”

Way too tired for this level of interrogation, I step around them into the almost empty pub. “Work meeting.”

“Ha,sure,” Joyce says. “Everyone holds work meetings in the evening at the swankiest, sexiest restaurant in town.”

“So who was it?” Mona’s eyes are wide with interest—or maybe she had a second sherry this evening.

“Oh, the restaurant was meaningless. One of the owners booked it for us, because the press doesn’t hang out there.”

“Theusbeing…?” Winston raises a bushy eyebrow.

Joyce’s mouth drops open. “It washim, wasn’t it?”

Mona gasps and adds the other hand to her chest.

“Oh, it was nothing.” I wave my hand in front of my face, batting the idea away as if it were a bothersome fly. “Just needed to iron out some things and talk through some training stuff.”

“So itwashim!” Joyce plants her hands on her hips. “You had a romantic dinner with that British hottie.” Her tone is somewhere between accusation and extreme delight.

I move farther into the room, toward the bar and the stairs behind it that lead to the safety of the apartment. “It doesn’t mean anything. We just needed to figure out the path forward. That’s all.”

“Sure,” they all say in a three-part harmony.

“Sorry I missed you earlier.” I take a couple more steps and yawn dramatically. “Must get to bed. Early start tomorrow.”Which is all true.

“We won’t let you avoid the subject next time,” Joyce says, her bracelets jangling as she waggles her finger at me.

“Leave the poor girl alone,” Winston says, opening the door and ushering the two women out.

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