“I wanted to apologize and maybe grab my stuff?”
Her eyes drift shut. She mumbles something I can’t make out.
“I didn’t catch that, Ma?—”
She turns, her gaze burning into mine. “You shouldn’t have hit him.” Her tone is cold and laced with disappointment tangled with frustration.
“He’s an asshole, Maggie. The shit he’s sayi?—”
She holds up a hand. “And now everyone’s going to believe him.”
She’s right.
She sighs again, but this time it’s drawn out and defeated. Rising from the bed, she drops the laptop onto the sheet and pads to the small doorway I’m currently filling.
Lifting her eyes to meet mine, her face softens. “Thank you for defending my honor.”
Every riled-up inch of me softens as I search her face. Hands desperate to hold her now, like they haven’t been before. Arms aching to envelop her close, so no motherfucker like Knox can mouth off about her ever again.
“But it was unnecessary. My work speaks for itself. At the last event, all those photos were Levi’s and my idea. The scouts were sniffing around, and we really wanted you to make the draft. I’m sorry, Hadley.”
My mouth hangs open.
She—
I shake my head, clearing my throat. “Levi and you rigged the shoot?”
She folds her arms, and it’s only then I notice the hard peaks straining against the cotton T-shirt before she presses her forearms against the fabric, covering them up.
“We’re both to blame for this situation, one way or another,” she says softly. “So I’m sorry, too. Maybe you should ride with Brady from now on, just in case.”
No. No fucking way.
“Like you said, your work speaks for itself. If you shoot everybody this weekend, this—whatever it is—will die down. Some other scandal will entertain the meek minds.”
A half smile ghosts over her luscious lips. “I’m sure it will.” She turns back and grabs up my bedroll. “Good night, Hadley.”
I take the bulky bedding from her grip. “Night, Maggie.”
She runs a hand through her hair as she goes to close the van door.
“Oh, we’re going to the lake tomorrow, if you want to come with.”
She hovers for a beat before replying. “I’d love to.”
The dry summer grass crunches under my boots as I make my way back to Brady and Spencer. I dump the bedroll next to Brady’s truck.
Spencer gives me a look.
“What?” I ask.
“Was over at the amenities. Knox and his buddies were shit-talking Maggie.”
Brady’s expression is suspiciously like the one a parent gives a child who’s about to do something stupid. “Don’t, Hads.”
“What were they saying, exactly?” I snap at Spence. I know it’s not his fault, but this shit’s got me in a chokehold.
“Along the lines of an easy piece of ass. One guy I didn’t recognize was mouthing off about visiting her van later tonight.”
