He gave her his easy smile. “There’s nothing wrong with needing help. I don’t think even Clara would have objections about that.”
Probably not, but Maisie didn’t want help. Clara and Amelia didn’t need any. Maisie had something to prove, and by the end of this, she hoped she would prove it. Not only to her sisters, but to Pops too. She shrugged, not letting her ego get the best of her. “I guess you’re right.”
Her doubts clearly played out on her face as his reply was immediate. “It’s going to be all right, Maisie. We’ll see this through. Get this done.”
The stableness of Hayes was so damn sexy. So was the trust between them, and even their solid friendship. She never had that with any other man before. Hayes knew her, fully, all the good, all the bad, all the broken and the healed. Her belly fluttered, heat pooling low in her body. Her gaze shifted to his lips, and she licked hers, wondering how he tasted. How he kissed. Was he soft and gentle? Or did he take charge? Maybe both? And why was she even thinking about this?
She quickly looked away, moving out of his space and to the front of the booth to pack up the remaining swag.
Behind her, Hayes cleared his throat. “What else do you need me to do here?”
She refused to lift her gaze. He’d see the lust there. She’d see his lust, and then what would happen? “This last keg and the jockey box can go out to the trailer. It shouldn’t take long after that to take apart all this, and then we can hit the road. The motel is a good twenty minutes from here…” Then a thought—a slightly terrifying one—hit her.
At her silence, Hayes asked, “Problem?”
Confident that the lust was now snuffed out, she faced him. “I’m so sorry, I just realized I never called to get another room booked for you. There’s probably not one available with the festival in town.”
Something devilishly naughty crossed Hayes’s expression. “One room is fine. I know how to keep my hands to myself.”
The desire she thought she’d controlled slammed into her, forcing her to squeeze her thighs together at the steady pulsating there. Hayes’s attention went straight to her thighs, and when he lifted his gaze again, those eyes of his were dark. Her mouth begged to open and say, What if I don’t want you to keep your hands to yourself? Instead, she laughed awkwardly. “Right. Okay, well, let’s get all this packed up and get on our way. I’m exhausted.”
“Sounds like a good plan.” Hayes’s forearms flexed in ways that should have been illegal as he grabbed the empty keg and jockey box. He had a lot going for him. Albeit, it’d been a long time since she’d seen him with his shirt off, but his forearms had grown bigger and harder since he’d worked at the horse farm. She was not immune to the effect those muscles caused. “Be back in a few,” he finished.
She nodded, holding it together by taking a deep breath. The joke was cruel—she finally found a man who made her want and want bad, and made her feel and feel hard, and by appearances, he felt the same way, but he had yet to make a move. And she was too confused by it all to make the move herself. Would they complicate things? Was it wrong they felt this way?
Her heart told her no. Laurel would want them to be happy, especially if that happiness was found in each other. But Maisie’s head was all kinds of messy. Because if it was okay for them to be together, and if Hayes was feeling the heat between them too, why hadn’t he made a move?
Tonight, he seemed…jealous. It didn’t take much to realize he didn’t want her dating anyone. But then if he was jealous, why wasn’t he speaking up? Hayes wasn’t a quiet guy. Or a shy guy. A man who didn’t take what he wanted. The more she thought on it, the more she realized, maybe she simply wanted him so much she made herself believe he wanted her. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten something so wrong.
Determined not to let herself get distracted from what mattered now—the beer festivals—she began untying the backdrop and taking it down. Focused on her task, she was startled when a low voice sounded very close behind her. “Hey.”
She whirled around, finding the guy with the charming smile. He stood close enough that she could smell beer and cigarettes on his breath. “Hey.” A slight chill shivered over her as she looked for Hayes. He was still gone, and when she looked back into the dark, glazed brown eyes in front of her, she got the feeling this guy had waited for exactly that. She slid away from him and settled in front of her booth.
The guy followed her. His voice was low, seductive. “You should ditch that guy and we can go somewhere.”
“Thanks, but no. It’s been a long day.” She scanned the area again, finding most of the booths had packed up and left, only a few stranglers on the other side, like her, who worked at their own speeds.
The guy stepped even closer now. Too close. “Ah, come on, sexy,” he purred. “You’d have a fun time, I promise.”
She noticed his crew of guys were moving in their direction, and suddenly, what seemed like flirting became something different. Coldness crawled up her spine like an icy spider. “Listen, it was nice to meet you, and thanks for the interest in the beer, but in case you can’t take the hint, I’m not interested.”
r /> She went to move away, but he latched onto her arm, his fingers pinching. “Ah, don’t be like that, beautiful.”
She winced against the brutal hold. “Ow. Let—”
His hand was ripped away and the guy suddenly went soaring, landing on his ass. Hard.
She jerked her gaze to Hayes, his feet planted wide, his stance at the ready. His snarl was nothing she’d ever heard from him before. “Does that help you understand she’s not fucking interested?”
Maisie blinked. Blood poured from the guy’s nose. “Fuck,” he growled, cupping his face. “You broke my fucking nose.”
Another blink, and the guy’s friends were rushing over. Maisie took in Hayes’s corded neck, the lifting of shoulders as if readying for a fight. “Do not even think about it,” she said, pointing at him. “There is only one of you and four of them.”
Hayes’s gaze flared. “I’d say I’m sorry I’m not going to listen to you, but we both know I’m not.”
Then he charged into the group of angry, drunk men.
5