Maisie laughed, wiggling her toes against the hot breeze brushing over them. True. She loved Clara, but her older sister could destroy anyone’s personal armor with a single look. “Okay, you’re right,” Maisie hedged, pulling her feet back into the truck and sitting cross-legged on the seat. “We probably should talk about what’s ahead of us.” She reached into her tote bag with all her art supplies.
“Whatever happened to that?”
She glanced up, finding Hayes gesturing at her tote.
“Back in the day, I remember you wanting to open up an art studio.”
Her heart squeezed. “You remember that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked, eyes on the road. “You and Laurel talked about it for a year straight in our living room.”
The reminder of her past life with Laurel didn’t hurt like it used to. Now warmth touched those cold, grief-stricken places, and she noticed over the last few months, Hayes could talk easily about Laurel too, recalling all the love, the joy Laurel had brought to their lives. For as long as Maisie could remember, she and Laurel had talked about opening the studio together. Well, a coffee shop/art studio that, even though it didn’t sound like it would fit in town, they’d planned to make work.
“Plans changed,” she told him, knowing he’d understand.
And he did. “Yeah, they do.” He scrubbed a hand over his face.
An ache filled her chest, and she wished that were something they didn’t have in common. “I haven’t even thought about the art studio in so long. It’s kinda one of those dreams that wasn’t ever meant to be,” she explained. “The brewery is my life now.”
Out the window, wind feathered through the wild grass and crops as he gave her a quick look. “A bit of a shame. You’re so talented.”
“Thanks.” She smiled. “But it’s a hobby now, nothing more. My sisters have a lot on their plates, and I haven’t been helping their stress.” She opened her notebook. “I’ve got to keep doing my part to make the brewery a success.”
“You’re on your way to the festival, aren’t you? I’d say you’re doing your part.”
She chuckled, flipping through a bunch of papers trying to find the one where she’d made notes about the festival. “Let’s have that conversation at the end of the festivals after we’ve nailed this.”
“What exactly are you looking for in there?”
She flipped over a few more pages of doodles. “I made notes about what we need to do, just have to find them.”
His soft laugh drew her gaze. “That is how you keep notes?”
She glanced down at the ripped-out pages, covered in paint. “Hey! One woman’s mess is another woman’s treasure.”
He gestured to her notebook. “Those notes are your treasure?”
“Damn right they are,” she said, lifting her chin. “Ah, here it is. Okay, we’ve got three festivals. First one, as you already know, is in Fort Collins, then we hit Colorado Springs, and Boulder to finish up.”
He nodded, taking that in. “Tell me why these three festivals are important for the brewery?”
“They’re the three biggest festivals in Colorado. It’s a great way to market beer and showcase our brand, or so Clara told me. She’s already entered Foxy Diva into a bunch of contests, but mainly, these festivals are all about word on the street, which Clara said is really important. I guess it’s good to get buzz going on social media, so when we finally reach out to a distributor, we’ve got a solid proposal.”
“So Clara says?”
“Bingo.” Maisie laughed.
The rich floral aroma of hardy wildflowers carried through the hot breeze as Maisie flipped the page, looking at the back. “Ah, yeah, okay, so basically we need to get there and set up our booth. I’ll serve beer all night, if you don’t mind switching out empty kegs for new ones.”
“That is why I’m here.” He smiled. “The muscles, remember?”
Dear God, how could she forget? Her belly somersaulted at the heated smile he threw her way. Which was both confusing and delicious all at once. There would always be a part of her heart that hated this new growing attraction she felt for Hayes. Some part of her that would always feel like she was being a horrible friend to Laurel. But as she stared at Hayes now, he looked different than he did when Laurel was still with them. Or maybe Maisie didn’t used to notice him in that way. But now, thirty-one years old, with the wind rustling his hair, his arm resting on the window, his thumb guiding the steering wheel, wearing worn jeans and a black T-shirt, Hayes looked hot. Yummy hot. The truth was, Laurel was never coming back, and while Maisie fought her growing feelings for Hayes for a while, ignoring those feelings was becoming harder. Especially when she saw Hayes responding to the heat too.
The more time went on, the more Hayes went from being Laurel’s husband, to Maisie’s friend, to…well, she’d only gotten so far as accepting that her desire for him was a very real, palpable thing that could no longer be controlled. But she hadn’t figured out what to do about it yet.
She glanced back out the front window and finally answered him, “It really shouldn’t be too difficult, but—”
“Nothing is ever easy when you’re involved?” Hayes offered, his mouth twitching.