Dixon, to my horror, stepped back just as if I had been covered in cooties. I blushed again and busied myself with examining the bottles and glasses on the table, telling myself that I was a fool, a big, awkward, idiotic fool who spoke without thinking and leaned close to men who didn’t like that sort of thing.
“Sorry,” Dixon murmured, looking extremely uncomfortable.
“No, it’s my fault,” I said, taking the high ground and apologizing. “I shouldn’t have leaned into you that way. Not everyone likes it. Just so you know, I have a couple of gay friends.”
His eyes widened. “I’m not gay.”
“No? Well, then I guess it’s just me.” I swallowed down the hurt sting of that knowledge and turned away to grab an open bottle. I had no idea what was in it, but at that moment I didn’t care so long as it
