You Dropped a Blonde on Me (31 page)

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Authors: Dakota Cassidy

Tags: #Romance, #Fiction

BOOK: You Dropped a Blonde on Me
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She loved them because they kept her thoughts from straying to Campbell, who’d obviously gotten the message and had stopped calling after week two into her vow to remain uninvolved until she was better able to trust her judgment.
She loved them because they’d kept her from dwelling on the possibility that she’d missed out on something great in Campbell with her caution. Caution born out of fear.
Nora nudged her, the heavy odor of her White Diamonds perfume sticking in Maxine’s throat. “So is Garner’s boy your date? Nice lookin’ fella that one.”
Her heart still twisted into a knot when Campbell was mentioned. Forcing a smile, she winked at Nora. “Nope. Tonight’s girls’ night out. Me, Len, and a plate of meatloaf is what’s on the agenda.”
“That’s lovely, dear, but your fancy friend’s no stand-in for Campbell,” she remarked on her way out the door.
The waning heat of the sun glared in Maxine’s eyes as she raised a hand to wave good-bye to Nora. As she locked the rec center up, she closed her eyes and swallowed hard.
No. Len wasn’t Campbell.
But she was a whole lot safer.
 
“Sooooo, tell me all about your yummy man,” Len cooed as they shared a meatloaf sandwich and fries with brown gravy. The Greek Meets Eat Diner was all but empty at nine in the evening, bringing much-needed peace to Maxine, who’d heard nothing but the endless warring of seniors with suggestions for sponsored events all day long today. Coupled with the onslaught of preparation she’d been handed for the big end-of-summer dance, and she was fried.
“I don’t have a yummy man. I do have a yummy job. Don’t you want to hear about that?” Maxine had been successful in her attempts to avoid Campbell for almost three weeks since the incident with Finley, and she’d like to avoid thinking about him, too.
She’d given him a lame excuse about postponing their celebratory dinner due to her injured hand and run for cover. Since then, there wasn’t a moment she’d allowed herself to be caught alone with him, and she hadn’t returned any of his phone calls.
Yet, there weren’t many moments she hadn’t thought about him and his kisses either.
Len clinked her fork against Maxine’s glass of water. “Hey in there. I thought you’d decided to give Campbell a chance. But I haven’t heard one delicious detail about him since the Cambridge versus Cambridge smackdown of the millennium. What gives?”
She wiped her mouth with the napkin, throwing it on the red Formica table to hide her burning cheeks. Len didn’t need to know what had happened in the woods or in Campbell’s truck. Yet Maxine felt like it was written all over her forehead. She ducked her head to avoid Len’s prying eyes. “It’s just too soon. I’m really not ready. Really, really not ready.”
“Said who?” Len asked, her eyes hot on Maxine’s head.
“Says me. I should know if I’m ready or not, shouldn’t I?” Shouldn’t she?
Her friend’s head shook with defeated disappointment. “I don’t know what you think you know, Maxine, but I do know you’ll never know if you don’t give it at least a fair shot.”
“I don’t want to sound bitter here, friend, but I am in the middle of the messiest divorce since the Alamo. I’m gun-shy. My judgment can’t be trusted.”
“The Alamo had nothing to do with a divorce, and here’s what pisses me off about this—you like Campbell. He likes you. But you’re willing to ignore that and hide behind your messy divorce. You’d give up something that could be a really great experience just so you can avoid the slim chance you’ll be raked over some coals. Seriously, how much harm could Campbell do in comparison to what Finley’s done? Is there anything more anyone can take from you at this point? And I’m not talking pride or self-esteem either.”
The bell on the door jingled, saving Maxine from supplying an answer. The couple strolling into the diner, tall and striking together, made her want to lunge under the table. She sank down into the diner’s black vinyl seat and cringed.
Len’s head swung around to view the counter where the pair seated themselves. Her eyebrow arched when her gaze focused on her friend. “So our man Campbell’s got a girlfriend. Good job, Maxine. Now you don’t have to worry he’ll hurt you. He’s too busy hurting another woman.”
She made a big show of glancing back at Campbell and the woman at the counter before adding, “Oh, look. They’re sharing an ice cream sundae. How sweet. Ohhhhhh, she’s licking
his
spoon. In public. How decadent. But you don’t really care about that do you—he was only going to hurt you with his ice cream anyway, right?”
Maxine refused to look. She couldn’t look. Wait. Why the hell couldn’t she look? Because green was a lovely shade of jealous. “Lay off!” she whisper-yelled. “And, BTW, this just proves my point. I clearly have sucky judgment when it comes to men. Not two weeks ago Campbell was asking me out—today he’s out with some over-Botoxed, boobed-out blonde. Obviously, I left such an impression he’s all broken up,” she said with scathing tones.
“Uh-huh,” Len agreed in mock delight. “And do you know who that boobed-out blonde is?”
She’d ducked too quickly to get a good look at her face. Now, with a cursory sideways glance, all she could see was the curve of her very shapely hip, clad in an expensive pair of jeans, slapped up against Campbell’s. God, how obvious. How cheap.
Yeah. How much do you wish it was you?
With a shake of her head, she made a face at Lenore. “I don’t care who she is.”
Lenore stretched her tanned arms out in front of her with the grace of a preying cat. “Oh. Okay. So telling you that’s Lisa Trainor he’s feeding a cherry to, you know, Lisa of Trainor’s Trainers, the wildly successful exercise guru franchise, will mean nothing. Good.” She gave a brisk nod, grabbing her purse. “Let’s blow and find a place to hang out that isn’t filled with scumbags feeding women ice cream.”
Maxine’s eyes widened. She reached for Len’s hand to keep her from rising. “It is not!” She and Lisa had done many a charity event together. They’d had lunch. Hosted dinner parties. The whore.
“Oh, it is.”
Maxine’s eyes narrowed, disgust filtering through her veins like hot lava. “And there it is in a nutshell. All Campbell’s bullshit talk about what a jerk Finley is, and he’s off feeding ice cream to a cheating slut!” She clamped a hand over her mouth to quiet the rise in her dulcet pipes.
“Well, technically, he’s not cheating at all, Maxine. He’s not married. She is.”
“Oh, bullshit, Lenore Erickson. That’s cheating by proxy!” It was so much better she’d found out now rather than after she’d fallen for his therapy-like charms and soothing presence. Not to mention his crazy talented lips and swoon-worthy orgasms. Who needed a man-made orgasm when you could have an artificial one anyway? Once they figured out a gadget for taking out the trash, there’d be a day when men would become obsolete.
Yet it still stung, and Maxine wasn’t sure if that sting was over the fact that she was still attracted to jerk-offs or because it hurt that Campbell actually was a jerk-off. She might have run away from him for fear of getting in too deep, but she’d still wanted Campbell to be a good guy.
The slimy pig.
Len rose, brushing stray crumbs from her trousers, to give her a dry response. “I couldn’t agree more. You want me to go make sure he heard that, or should we just take it for granted this place has awesome acoustics?”
Maxine’s eyes rose with a defiant glance in the direction of the countertop. Good. They were staring at her. That was exactly how she’d planned it. She slid from the booth, coughing on her way out.
There was only one thing to do.
Make things worse than they already were.
Impulse gave her feet wings, carrying her to the front of the diner where that cheating slut and her man-whore dined on ice cream like it was a forbidden sexual act. The time for retribution on behalf of every cheated-on spouse was finally here, and Maxine was going to dole it out two servings at a time.
Lisa caught sight of Maxine making her way toward them first, jumping up from her chair like she was greeting a long-lost friend. “Maxine! Oh, my God. It’s so good to see you!” Lisa pulled her into a hug, her perfume enveloping Maxine’s nostrils until she almost choked from the cloyingly sweet scent.
Setting her from her svelte body, Lisa smiled. Kinda warm, but Maxine decided it was just good acting. She should know, she’d done it a million times. “You look terrific, honey. So great. I heard about you and Finley, and I just wanted to tell you, good for you. He’s a pig. I always knew it—what he’s done confirms it.”
Wasn’t that like the pot calling the kettle pitch-black? Maxine cocked her head at a “Huh” angle. “Hey, pot, quit calling the kettle a pig!” she reprimanded with a waving finger.
Lisa’s face collapsed. “What?”
Campbell, still seated, put a possessive hand to Lisa’s waist. The very hand that had visited that exact locale on Maxine’s body a time or two. Jealousy streaked a bright and shimmery path through her veins.
By God, he didn’t deserve her jealousy. How dare he create that kind of ugly in her—even a little. Jealousy was a powerful emotion, leaving her infuriated with herself. She really hadn’t come that far at all if a liar like Campbell evoked such a passionate reaction. Why couldn’t she just be indifferent? Why did it hurt to be rejected by a man who wasn’t worthy of the poop she scooped?
Even stunned, Lisa’s face was still beautiful. “Maxine? I don’t understand,” she said in a pleading tone.
Campbell popped his lips, his expression wry. “Oh, I do. Let me explain. I think Maxine’s calling you a cheating liar, but I’m not one hundred percent sure. She’s making fancy euphemisms a simple boy like me just doesn’t understand.”
Charming. Wasn’t he just? Always had an answer for everything. Always with the pretense he wasn’t a smooth operator—wooing little old ladies and their dogs when he was really just a poorer version of the playa Finley was.
Maxine’s anger at her reaction to seeing Campbell with another woman, combined with the bleak reality that she’d once more fallen for some man’s line, erupted like a whistle-blowing teakettle, all hot and steamy. “That’s right! I said it. That’s exactly what I’m calling you—both of you! How could you do this to Benjamin, Lisa? And
you
,” she swung around to rasp in Campbell’s face, one that was unruffled, serving only to make her anger swell to new proportions. “You jerk! You’re no better than she is. Just because you’re not married, doesn’t mean you’re not cheating by proxy. It’s conspiracy to commit infidelity. Ohhhh, am I ever glad I ditched you, or I’d be no better off than I was when I was married to Finley! But I’m not an idiot anymore, Campbell Barker. I see right through you and your crap!”
Campbell didn’t move a muscle. His hand remained firmly at Lisa’s waist. Nor did he defend himself. And if she had to give a definitive answer one way or the other, she’d call that little move on his part downright galling. The best defense was obviously no defense.
Lisa, on the other hand, was all sound and motion. Her bangle bracelets clanged, while her lying mouth moved. “Maxine, honey, this isn’t what you think! I swear to you—”
“Yeahhhhh,” Maxine shouted back, letting sarcasm drip from her words. “That’s what Finley said about every nubile vagina he encountered.” She let her voice go deep in an almost perfect mimic of Finley’s. “ ‘This isn’t what you think, Maxine.’ I have to ask myself, what is someone supposed to
think
when they find out their spouse has willingly taken his clothes off and stuck his you know what in another woman’s boy-howdy!”
Len grabbed her arm. “
Enough
, Maxine,” she ordered in her ear with a terse reprimand. “Turn yourself around and march your big mouth out of here while you can still hold your head up.”
Campbell rose, shooting Len a stern warning glance. “No, Len. I’ll handle this.”
Disbelief riddled Maxine’s features. “Handle this?
Handle?
How dare you say something like that to me! I’ll show you handled!” Her outrage was loud and proud.
Though Campbell’s sudden lean into her gave her bravado a run for its money. His next words were tight and filled with unconcealed anger. “Do you remember when I said you were sensitive, Max? That maybe communication was in your best interest before you jumped the gun and started waving around accusations?”

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