Nash nodded in greeting.
Narrowing his eyes, Hayes folded his arms. “Do tell: How did you find out I was even in the hospital?”
Darryl offered a bemused smile, warming his amber eyes. “Your nurse is the wife of the sergeant.”
Damn. That’s how he knew her. “Fuck. Whose wife?”
“Matheson’s.”
Hayes snorted. “And he sent you to fetch me?”
Darryl gave an easy nod. “He figured you’d be less…pissy with me.”
They were probably right.
Darryl paused to turn his two-way radio down and then said directly to Hayes, “Listen, this is what I’ve been told. You can either go back to the hospital and wait for the doctor to discharge you. Or your insurance won’t cover the charges and you’ll have to pay out of pocket.” A slow smile began to spread across Darryl’s face. “Matheson told me to let you know that his wife, who is already pissed at you, will be even more pissed if you don’t go back because she’ll have to do more paperwork. And this will not bode well for Matheson. He told me if you make his life difficult, he’ll make your life hell.”
Hayes frowned. Matheson was a tough bastard.
A gleam filled Darryl’s eyes. “Besides, what’s so bad about one night at the hospital? I’ve seen a few of the nurses there. They’ll take good care of you tonight.”
Beckett called from field, “He was too busy looking elsewhere to notice any nurses there.”
Hayes parted his mouth and then shut his lips tight. He had been looking elsewhere. He’d only seen Maisie in that room.
Darryl’s brows rose. “Oh, yeah, who’s got you wrapped up?”
“He’s talking out of his ass.” Hayes nearly snarled at Beckett, who only grinned back. To Nash, Hayes added, “Keep me updated on the gelding.”
“Of course,” Nash replied.
Hayes gritted his teeth but got in the damn cruiser. “Don’t look so damn happy about this,” he said to Darryl, fastening his seat belt.
“But I am happy,” Darryl said with a chuckle, turning the cruiser around. “I just won a hundred-dollar bet.”
“On?” Hayes inquired.
Darryl grinned. “If I’d require backup or you’d come willingly.”
Hayes dropped his head back against the headrest and shut his eyes. “I should have punched you.”
“The day’s not over yet.” Darryl laughed and hit the gas.
3
The next morning, Maisie woke before her sisters and made it outside unnoticed. After Pops passed away, and when the plans for the brewery began, they’d all moved back into their grandfather’s house. Financially it made sense, at least until the brewery took off, and she doubted any of them would be leaving anytime soon. And truth was, being in that house had been Maisie’s saving grace after Laurel passed away.
Once on the road in her MINI, she drove the twenty minutes to downtown and parked at the curb, hurrying out to greet the sunny morning.
Downtown River Rock was as close to postcard-perfect as Maisie had ever seen, with the vast mountain range encasing the town. She didn’t bother locking her car but took her purse with her and hurried inside Snowy Mountain Bakery, where she was immediately hit with the overwhelming aroma of sugar and warmed bread.
Susan, an adorable elderly lady with purplish curls atop her head, smiled from behind the counter. “Maisie, my dear. How is the finger?”
Maisie resisted rolling her eyes. News traveled fast in River Rock. She lifted her hand, showing off her splint. “All bandaged up. I’ll be good in no time.” But even with the painkillers that Clara brought home last night, her finger hurt. And this morning, while she watched the sun rise over the mountain peaks through her window, she began to wonder how she could pull the festivals off with a broken finger. There was a booth to set up, kegs to move, beer to serve.
Susan’s brow wrinkled. “Oh, I’m so glad to hear you’re okay. I’m not sure what you were even thinking moving around those big kegs all by yourself.”
Great. Not only did everyone know about the accident, but now they knew how clumsy Maisie was. Perfect. “Well, I use a dolly. I’m not exactly lifting them. The keg just got away from me this time.”
“It’s so heavy,” Susan continued in a clipped voice, like she hadn’t even heard Maisie. “That’s a man’s work.”
Now wait just a…
“Mom,” Annie, Susan’s daughter, snapped at her mother when she came out from the back. “I’m sure Maisie is completely capable of doing her job well.” Annie’s soft brown eyes held Maisie’s and she mouthed sorry.
Maisie shook her head. No harm, no foul. Susan was a sweet woman and meant well, but she was born in a different time, raised with a different mindset. One that Maisie thought needed a refresher course, but Susan wasn’t her family.
Annie stepped up to the counter and gave a gentle smile. “What can we get for you, Maisie?”
“A dozen assorted muffins, please.” Maisie needed to pull out the big guns this morning. Yesterday was a disaster. She needed a fresh start, and baked goods always put her sisters in a good mood. Even Clara.
A few minutes later, muffins in hand, Maisie was back on the road and headed home. When she finally arrived, the driveway was empty. Later today, cars would line the small parking lot next to the barn. Three Chicks Brewery was part of the brewery tour put on by local companies for vacationers. Maisie had loved doing that job, but her cousin Penelope took it over. Because, well, Penelope was better at being on time, being responsible, and not letting kegs fall on her hand. Heaviness sank into Maisie’s chest. She didn’t mean to suck so much at her jobs, she just got easily distracted. Sometimes it seemed like the world was out to get her, like a keg breaking her finger.
She parked next to Clara’s practical sedan and Amelia’s bright blue Yaris. The scent of the fresh baked muffins surrounded Maisie as she hurried into the house, greeted by the nutty aroma of fresh brewed coffee coming from the kitchen. She found her sisters sitting around the old, worn oak kitchen table looking at their phones. “I have sugary awesomeness,” she said by way of greeting.
Both sisters were off their butts in a second flat.
Mason, Clara’s son, came running in from the family room. “Me first. Me first.”
“Well, of course, fine sir.” Maisie opened the box, and he took the apple cinnamon muffin before bolting away.
As Clara reached for the muffin, she said, “I think it’s safe to say he probably doesn’t need the sugar.”
“Sugar is always good,” Maisie said with a smile.
“I agree,” said Amelia, taking the box of muffins over to the kitchen table near the bay window.
Maisie quickly made herself a coffee with cream and then joined them. She took the first bite of her peach streusel muffin and sighed in happiness. “Oh, my God, this should be illegal with what it’s going to do to my ass.”
“Ditto.” Amelia chuckled.
“Ha! I knew there were muffins.” Penelope entered the kitchen, wearing her long brown hair up in a messy bun. Her olive-colored blouse did amazing things for her green eyes, but Maisie thought it was probably happiness that made her look so alive. Penelope and her husband, Darryl, were madly in love, and Maisie had never been happier for her. Penelope had crappy parents, who shipped her off to River Rock for the summers. A blessing, really, since there, with Maisie’s grandfather, Penelope saw what real love was like. Maisie and Penelope had always been kindred spirits. Her cousin grabbed a muffin from the box and took a seat next to Clara. “I swear I could smell them from the driveway,” Penelope continued. To Maisie, she asked, “How’s the finger?”