“Anything you want to talk about?”
“Not particularly.” But as soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. He’d always told his father the truth. “It’s…”
“Complicated?” Dad offered.
Hayes snorted. He’d told Maisie last night it was anything but complicated between them. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“Because she was Laurel’s best friend?”
Warmth touched Dad’s tone, and Hayes looked his way, spotting that same warmth in his face. He’d loved Laurel. Everyone loved her. “Part of the reason.”
“What’s the other part?”
Hayes glanced out the window, staring out at the whiskey barley fields that rushed by. “You know why.”
Of course, Dad called him out. “Because she doesn’t know the truth about what happened?” A pause. When Hayes didn’t reply, Dad spat, “You’re an idiot.”
Hayes scowled at his father. “Am I?”
“Yes, son, you fucking are.” Dad’s jaw tightened, eyes on the road, fingers white around the steering wheel. “You were dealt a brutal blow. Now you’ve got this sweet, bright woman who has been there picking you up, when we all know, life would have gone dark for you otherwise. And now, instead of making yourself and her happy, you’re too afraid to tell her what happened so you can finally move on. When did you become such a coward?”
Hayes drew in a deep breath to stop from lashing out. His father didn’t deserve it, especially when every single word was the truth. “What good will telling her the truth do? Bring up all her pain again. Too much time has gone by.”
“You’re telling me this isn’t about you being afraid because you’re terrified she’ll hate you for it?”
He cringed at the truth his father hit him with.
Dad slammed on the brakes, skidding the SUV to a halt on the side of the road. He threw the truck in park and then set his firm gaze on Hayes. “You’ve hated yourself more than anyone could for something that was never your fault. You’re not the only one who lost Laurel. I don’t blame you, and Maisie wouldn’t either. This is your pain. Your shit to get figured out.” His father pointed at him. “You might want to start figuring that shit out so you don’t go around punching drunk idiots because you’re keeping all this bad shit inside you.”
Hayes arched an eyebrow. “Done?”
Dad narrowed his eyes. “You’ve got one shot at life, buddy. Yeah, I see you’re wasting it, wallowing in your pain and punishing yourself, but unless you’re all in with Maisie”—he leaned in and pointed at Hayes again—“keep your hands off of her.”
Hayes knew that, as much as his father thought the world of Laurel, he thought equally as highly of Maisie, maybe even more so, because of what Maisie had done for Hayes when he was at his lowest. And the Taylor men protected the women they cared about. “Yeah, got it.”
The Colorado Springs beer festival held a different vibe than Fort Collins. The event was held outside in a large park, with each booth adding a little sparkle to gain attention across the dark night. Maisie had brought Edison string lights, and with the plants she’d picked up on the way, the Three Chicks Brewery booth looked romantic, chic and dreamy even, compared to the very masculine tents around her. She supposed that was her artist’s touch, to find beauty where there wasn’t any and showcase it.
“You’re making everyone else look like they don’t know what they’re doing.”
That low baritone of Hayes’s voice brushed over Maisie, causing her breath to hitch. She spun around and all but tackled Hayes, throwing her arms around him. “Oh, my God, you’re okay.”
His warm chuckle hit her as he bent his head, bring his mouth against her neck. “I’m all right,” he told her, holding her close.
Any worry that things might have been awkward when they saw each other instantly fled. They were good, she felt that in the strength of his arms locked around her. She held on, longer than she normally would. “What happened?” she asked, leaning away.
He took her hand before she could move away, his fingers twining with hers. “Nothing much,” he explained. “Those cops were just throwing their weight around because that guy I punched was the lieutenant’s kid.”
She studied his face, not finding any strain there, then released the tension in her own chest with a deep sigh. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I felt terrible leaving this morning, but your dad promised me he’d get you out.” She averted her gaze to the booth across from her, shifting on her feet, her stomach in knots. “Clara would have killed me if I didn’t make set up on time.”
Hayes tucked a finger under her chin, demanding her attention. She greeted his gentle eyes, the stare he seemed to give only to her. “You did the right thing by leaving. The festival takes precedence, and honestly, I’m fine. Please let it go.”
“Okay, fine, I will,” she said with a laugh, finally letting herself off the hook. Responsibility sucked. She wasn’t very good at it most days. But she had this one chance to prove she could see something through. That she mattered to the success of the brewery. “You’re right. I’ve got to stay focused.”
He gave a firm nod of agreement, then turned back to the picnic table behind him and offered a white takeout container. “We passed a smokehouse driving in. Hungry?”
“Lord, yes,” she said, hurrying to sit down. Because of the delay on her leaving this morning, she hadn’t had a good meal all day, only a bag of chips, a Coke, and a chocolate bar on the drive.
He sat next to her, opened up his container, revealing brisket, ribs, pulled pork, and an assortment of side dishes. “Did you manage setting up all by yourself?”
“Yeah, right.” She laughed and opened the lid. She nearly purred in happiness at the meat, cheese grits, and corn bread before gesturing to her right. “That guy over there helped out. His name is Ralph.”
When Hayes followed her gaze, she noticed Ralph, who was around her age, was looking right at her. Well, more like sizing up Hayes.
She glanced back at Hayes to find the corners of his mouth twitching. “Another suitor I need to punch?”
“Please don’t.” She nudged her shoulder into his, completely aware of those hard, capable arms. The strength they possessed. With warmth pooling low in her belly, she remembered what those powerful muscles could do to her body. She cleared her throat, refocused. “Besides, we’ve got a busy night ahead of us. The festival opens up in a half hour.” Hopefully, all that heat flaring through her would only burn hotter later tonight once they were at the motel. She took another bite of her corn bread and then hopped up and poured them a couple beers, offering him one before she took her seat again. She nibbled a small piece of corn bread and added, “So, tell me, how was jail?”
He ate half of the corn bread in one bite. “Annoying,” he said with a full mouth.
She snorted a soft laugh. “Do you get in extra trouble or something because you’re a cop?”
“Was a cop,” he gently reminded her. “And yes, I’d be up shit’s creek if I was still on the force, but I’m not, so it’s fine.”