When she moved away, Hayes was glad for it. Heat flooded his groin, need hitting him with such intensity he fought against the instinct to pull her into his arms again and… Pull it together, man.
He thrust a hand through his hair, but sudden coldness stole any heat Maisie brought. The creeper who’d been watching Maisie before approached her. The hunger in the guy’s eyes grated on Hayes’s last nerve.
“Hey, sugar,” the guy said.
Hayes restrained his snort since he bet Maisie found the guy attractive. He looked athletic. Confident enough, likely making him good with the ladies. And his hair looked like a modern cut, obviously a city guy, with a beaming white smile to finish off his good looks.
“Back again already,” Maisie said with her sweet smile. “Good beer always brings ’em back.”
The guy nearly purred, “Especially when such a pretty lady is serving up the beer.”
Now Hayes held back the roll of his eyes. Maisie was far too smart to fall for this guy’s bucket of bullshit.
“It helps when her customers have charming smiles,” she said.
Hayes jerked his head toward her, finding her leaning against the bar, squishing her breasts together, maybe not on purpose. But Hayes noticed. And so did the guy.
The creep gave her a smile that didn’t look charming. He looked like a damn snake. They exchanged flirty small talk while Maisie poured the beer from the tap, and the guy’s eyes lingered too long on her breasts.
“Enjoy your beer,” she finally said, handing him the plastic cup.
“Believe me”—he winked—“I’ll be back for more.”
She smiled.
Hayes snorted loudly.
Once the guy walked away, Maisie slowly turned toward him, eyebrows raised. “Problem?”
“He’s not right for you.”
“Oh, really.” She crossed her arms, smirking. “Are you telling me you know the right type of man for me?”
“Yeah.” He gestured at the prick walking back to his douchebag friends in the sea of people. “It’s not that guy.”
The announcer called over the loudspeaker, and the crowd erupted in whistles and catcalls, as Maisie said, “Trust me, right now, any guy is the right guy. If you haven’t noticed, there hasn’t been anyone new to town in a while.” She studied the guy at the table, who watched her right back. “I mean, he’s cute, in a fancy way.”
Every instinct in Hayes screamed creep. Having no real way to explain that, Hayes went a different route. “Yeah, if you want a guy who spends more time looking in the mirror than you do.”
She burst out laughing, placing her warm hand on his arm. “Now I really can’t be with someone who is prettier than me.”
“Exactly.” Hayes smiled, fully aware of her touch. Of how he wanted that touch to move lower. “Take that guy.” He flicked his chin at the man in camo ordering a beer from the booth across from them. “He’s good.”
Maisie followed his stare and then frowned. “Hayes Taylor, what is wrong with you?” she snapped, glaring at him. “I’m twenty-four years old. I want a heartthrob that will break my bed, not a guy who looks like my old science teacher.”
Hayes shrugged. “Looks like a good guy.” Or maybe he just didn’t look like an attractive guy.
She turned to him fully and gave him a hard look. “Remind me to never, and I mean never, ask you to help set me up with anyone.”
Fine by him. He laughed softly, but then gestured back at that guy. “Do me a favor tonight. Just stay away from that one.”
“You’ve got a bad-guy radar?”
He nodded. “One that’s seldomly wrong.”
She watched him a long moment, and he had a minute to wonder when in the hell he’d become so protective over her. Jealous too. Fuck, that was a problem. A big one. This went beyond physical. He could control his body, refuse to act on his impulses. But this warm spot she had grabbed hold of in his chest, that was much harder to ignore.
Her soft smile told him she didn’t mind his concern. “Fine. Deal. As long as you promise to never set me up.”
The promise was easy. “Deal.”
When the kegs dried up and the crowd began to thin, empty beer cups littered the picnic tables and cement floor, and the stench of vomit hung in the air. Maisie breathed through her mouth, trying to avoid the pungent aroma, and unhooked the keg from the jockey box. The heaviness of her eyelids suggested it was far past midnight, the set time the festival had meant to close, and she was ready to call it a night, glad Hayes was there to help her pack up. The motel wasn’t too far. No doubt Clara had booked a place nice enough to keep Maisie safe, but cheap enough to keep Clara’s frugal ways satisfied. At the moment, a bed, no matter how hard or bumpy, sounded good.
Maisie’s broken finger throbbed as she set the empty keg aside when her phone beeped. She needed painkillers. Pronto. She looked at the screen, unsurprised to find Clara checking in. How did it go?
Maisie texted back with her uninjured fingers. You tell me. Clara would have been stalking social media all night, making sure Maisie didn’t screw things up. Even Maisie was still waiting for the bomb to drop. It always dropped.
Big thumbs up on social media. Amelia’s giveaway idea rocked. Buzz looks good.
Maisie sighed, a weight on her chest that she hadn’t realized had been there lifting. Great. Event seemed to go well. People were happy.
I see that all over social media. But you know what I’m seeing more than that?
Maisie winced. “Hopefully something good,” she muttered to herself.
Clara’s text popped up. People posing with you for photographs. You make everyone feel like they’re your friend. Be proud of that, Maisie. Good job tonight.
Warmth carried through her, and she fought the tears welling in her eyes. Not being a disappointment felt…good. For two years now, she’d struggled. Every single day she tried to do the right thing for the brewery, but somehow seemed to fail. This time belonged to her, and maybe…just maybe…this was all finally going to work out. With the help of Hayes, of course. She texted back: I am proud. Thanks. I couldn’t have done any of this without Hayes. He’s been awesome too.
Clara responded, Thank him for me too. Keep it up. You’re rocking this! Love you.
Love you too. Sweet dreams.
With this new sudden lightness in her chest, Maisie drew in a long, easy breath, tucking her phone back in her pocket.
“You look happy.”
She glanced back at Hayes, taking in the strength of him, the solidness of his character. God, those eyes damn near melted her panties off. He stepped closer, bringing all that power into her space. “I take it you’ve heard good news.”
She nodded, clearing her throat, placing herself firmly back into the friend zone. “Clara’s happy with everything that’s being shared on social media.”
His smile was totally Hayes. Undoubtedly supportive and sexy as hell. “That is good news.”
“It is,” she agreed. “Only two more to go, then I can actually breathe again.”
Hayes took another step closer, the air infusing with his scent, a mix between the Colorado countryside and the first taste of spring. Her breath hitched, cheeks warmed, and his mouth twitched up at the corners in response. There, so close, he dipped his chin, bringing his gaze down to hers. “You were very good tonight. These festivals are right in your wheelhouse.”