“You know what? I have no idea.” From the woman’s bright red cheeks, it appeared she shared Drew’s opinion of her behavior. “I guess we can chalk this up to one too many rum drinks.”
“How many have you had?” This time it wasn’t rudeness spurring Drew on, just plain ol’ curiosity.
“One.”
Drew burst into laughter. “Is it rum specifically that makes you chase after a girl, or does any alcoholic beverage have that effect?”
“Good question.” The woman jutted out a hip, placing a finger on her chin, pondering in an adorable and—now that it had been pointed out, it was impossible for Drew not to notice—tipsy way. “I don’t drink much, and as far as I can recall, I don’t think I’ve ever chased after a girl before.”
“No, you wouldn’t need to,” Drew blurted out before she realized what she was saying. “I imagine they all chase after you.”
The woman put a hand to her mouth and began tittering in an alarming, though not at all unattractive, way. She was rocking back and forth with the force of it, and Drew feared she might topple to the ground.
“I’m Drew, by the way.” She put out her hand, relieved when the woman took it. Drew had meant it to look like a standard handshake, but her real purpose had been to aid the woman in her quest to stay upright. Now that she held the stranger’s hand in hers, Drew was struck by how soft and small it was, as delicate as a doll’s. She grew acutely aware of her own work-roughened skin, embarrassment making her wish she hadn’t acted so hastily. But it was too late now, and from the woman’s sweet if slightly goofy smile, she didn’t seem to mind.
“Maisie,” the woman said in reply. “What’s Drew short for?”
Drew laughed. “Not a thing. It’s my full name, but my dad is Andrew, so I guess that explains it. Is Maisie short for anything?”
“Nope.” Maisie shook her head, her choppy auburn tresses flying out from all sides before falling perfectly back into place. Drew had never seen anything like it. “But I guess like you, my grandmother was Margaret, and she went by Maisie to her friends. My dad was the type who cut to the chase.”
Drew picked up on her use of the past tense, but it didn’t seem polite to inquire about it, so instead she pointed to her horse. “This is Stormy.”
Stormy responded with a cheerful neigh, coaxing Maisie’s lips into a wide smile. “He’s so pretty. Seems very nice, too. Are all horses nice?”
“Mine are. Stormy’s a proper gentleman.”
“Must be because you’ve raised him right,” the woman teased, her eyes lighting up. “Is the competition continuing this evening?”
“No, not until tomorrow. After our stumble earlier, I thought we could use some practice, but Stormy seems to prefer your company right now.” The horse was practically resting his head on Maisie’s shoulder. “He’s not normally like this with people.”
“He’s a lover. That’s for sure. Did you teach him that, too?” Pink circles formed on Maisie’s cheeks, and her eyes grew wide, like she couldn’t believe she’d said that in her outside voice. Drew’s heart pitter-pattered in triple time at the possible implications of that blush.
“I don’t know about that.” Drew dropped her gaze to her boots. When she ventured to look up again, Maisie was watching her with such intensity it took Drew’s breath away. “You sure you didn’t have anything in particular in mind when you followed me in here, Ms. Maisie?”
“Like what?” The question came out just above a whisper. Drew expected the woman to take a step backward, but she inched forward instead, resting a delicate hand on Stormy’s mane with the lightness of a feather. “I’m kind of serious. If you know what’s going on with me right now, I’d love for you to fill me in.”
“There’s that rum drink you mentioned,” Drew offered. She kept her feet firmly in place but slid her own hand along the silky strands of Stormy’s mane until her fingers were close enough to Maisie’s to at least imagine she could feel their heat, even if it probably wasn’t true. “Those fruity cocktails with the umbrellas can do a number on you. At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”
“Cheryl, one of my coworkers, had some stories to tell when she got back from the Bahamas.” Maisie gave a nervous laugh. “You ever been to the Bahamas?”
“I don’t travel much,” Drew admitted. She hated how boring it made her sound. Maisie was sure to give up on whatever this was she was trying to do and walk away now that she knew how very dull Drew really was.
“Me neither.” Maisie held her ground and gave no indication of turning tail or running. “This is the first place I’ve been in ages, and it’s for work.”
“Me, too, I guess.” Drew’s spirits sank at the realization.
“I mean, they say what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right? But what if nothing happens?” Maisie’s eyes glistened with the sheen of unshed tears. It was stunning. “What if I never get a raise, and I never get my shot in the business world, and everything I promised my daddy I’d do before he died never happens?”
Drew’s heart clenched. She couldn’t bear the sadness this woman was facing all alone, or how it resonated with her own fears that she kept bottled up deep inside. She reached for Maisie’s hand, covering it and grasping it tightly.
“Then you make it happen. Right? There’s no other choice.” Drew gave Maisie’s fingers a squeeze, as much for her own reassurance as for this woman she’d just met, whose struggles were different yet so very much the same. “If you want something to happen, sometimes you have tomakeit happen.”
Maisie pulled in a shaky breath, but instead of replying with words, she raised herself up until they were face-to-face. Later Drew would wonder how a woman of such small stature could manage to make herself so tall, but she wasn’t thinking this now, or thinking anything, because all of a sudden Maisie was brushing her lips against Drew’s, and all ability to think was gone.
The kiss was soft and impossibly sweet, a silky caress reminiscent of a ripe summer strawberry bursting in her mouth. Acting purely on instinct, Drew laced her fingers through Maisie’s thick hair, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss.
It was everything Drew had been missing, without knowing there had been a void in her life. It was the promise of connection, the fulfillment of longing. It was pulling back the handle on a slot machine, watching the wheel spin, and being greeted with the sound of clanging bells—