Sassy Blonde: USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR

by Stacey Kennedy

  “I didn’t even hit my fucking head,” Hayes snapped. He couldn’t sit around for ten days. Silence wasn’t good for him. He needed to wake early, exhaust himself, and fall asleep instantly at night. Silence made his memory clearer. Too clear, bringing back all the things that haunted him.

  When Hayes reached the door, Beckett said, “You realize you need to be discharged.”

  Before heading out the door, Hayes grabbed his Stetson cowboy hat off the chair and shoved it back on his head. “I’m leaving. Either you’re driving me to talk to Nash or I’m taking a Lyft, but this is happening.”

  Obviously agreeing for the sake of it, Beckett gestured out to the hallway. “Lead the way.”

  The second Hayes entered the hallway, the nurse sitting behind the nurse’s station called, “Where are you going? You haven’t been discharged!”

  Hayes didn’t look back and marched his way out of the damn hospital. Sure, he’d hear about this later. River Rock was a small community, and he knew that nurse from somewhere but couldn’t place her. The gossip train would get ahold of this and run with it, but he didn’t do hospitals.

  Within minutes, Hayes’s ass was planted back in Beckett’s truck, and they’d left the hospital behind.

  Beckett remained silent until twenty minutes later when they rolled up to River Rock’s downtown. Quaint brick storefronts hugged the street. The little town had everything from Blackshaw Meats, which was a division of the Blackshaw family’s cattle company; to the local watering hole, Kinky Spurs, that catered to the twenty- and thirty-somethings of River Rock; to the animal hospital and the police station all on the one road. Beckett only broke the silence when they’d passed the police station where Hayes had started his career before moving to Denver.

  “She’s sweet with you,” Beckett said.

  Hayes glanced sidelong. “Who?”

  “Maisie.” Beckett looked away from the road to give Hayes a wide smile. “She’s got a soft spot for you.”

  “We’ve been friends for a long time.”

  “Yeah, friends, right.”

  Sarcasm dripped off Beckett’s statement. Hayes snorted. “Got something to say?” He’d been friends with Beckett far longer than he had Maisie, and Beckett didn’t miss much.

  Beckett shifted against his seat and gave a soft laugh. “Nah, nothing to add here.”

  Not needing Beckett pointing out that something between him and Maisie had changed, Hayes turned his attention back to the window as thick evergreen trees rushed by. Hayes wanted Maisie. In his life. In his bed. But that would only complicate everything. Besides, Maisie was his dead wife’s best friend. There had to be some rule book that suggested that was a bad idea. But he also knew Laurel and was well-versed in her heart. She’d want him to be happy, and in the deepest parts of his heart that would always belong to Laurel, he knew that if he made any other woman happy, Laurel would want that woman to be Maisie.

  Hayes shook the thought from his head. The idea was terrible, the complications great. He cared about Maisie. Deeply. She’d pulled him out of the darkest time of his life, and he owed her everything. But she didn’t deserve to be pulled into his still-messy life. Especially since there was a lie hanging between them.

  One that would destroy everything.

  Maisie believed Laurel had been murdered in a robbery gone wrong. That’s what the media was told and what the newspapers printed. The truth was, Laurel had been murdered by a gang member on a case Hayes was working.

  The lie was so embedded now, even Hayes had trouble finding the truth anymore. He couldn’t risk Maisie knowing he kept the truth from her, in fear she’d never forgive him. He couldn’t risk losing her.

  When Beckett finally pulled into the long driveway that worked its way up to the log house and the barn, Hayes refocused his thoughts. He needed to figure out how to get Nash on his side. Hayes got out of the truck before Beckett could even turn the engine off. He made it halfway to the barn when a firm, “Hayes,” was said behind him.

  Great. That hard tone didn’t bode well for Hayes’s plan. He turned, finding Nash behind him, arms crossed over his chest. “Hey.”

  While a few years younger than Hayes, Nash could hold his own against anyone. Fit and strong, Nash was a retired bull rider. He had messy brown hair and sharp blue eyes. Next to him, dripping saliva onto Nash’s worn cowboy boots, was his loyal yellow Labrador Retriever, Gus.

  “Care to explain why you’re here,” Nash demanded.

  Beckett strode by, patting Hayes on the shoulder. “I delivered your message,” he said to Nash. “And he didn’t listen, like I said was going to happen.”

  Nash’s eyes narrowed on Hayes. “Time off is nonnegotiable. You’re taking the ten days. Go home.”

  Most men cowered if Hayes glared at them. Nash glared back. Hayes had two choices: accept the vacation time or quit. The latter wasn’t an option. The job was a good second best to his love of the law. “What will it take for me to lessen that time?” he asked, softening his expression, hoping that worked in his favor.

  “A note from the doctor saying one hundred percent that you do not have a concussion,” Nash said. “Otherwise, don’t step foot on the farm. Clear?”

  “Yeah, clear,” Hayes muttered. Fuck. No doctor would sign such a note. The liability was too much of a risk.

  “He’s a nasty one,” Nash said, obviously changing the subject for Hayes’s benefit. Nash studied the gelding out in the field before addressing Hayes again. “We’ll start some groundwork with him while you’re away, but I take it you want us to leave him for you?”

  Hayes gave a firm nod. “You’re damn right I do. That horse and I have unfinished business.”

  Before Nash could reply, tires crunching against gravel had Hayes glancing over his shoulder. A police cruiser slowly made its way up the driveway.

  “Expecting a visit from the cops?” Hayes asked Nash.

  “Not that I know of,” Nash replied.

  When the cruiser came to a stop next to Hayes, Darryl Wilson, the scruffy-bearded, dark brown-haired cop rolled down his window. Not only had Darryl graduated high school with Beckett and Hayes, Hayes and Darryl had gone through police academy together. They’d been close friends until Laurel’s death. Hayes couldn’t face the reminder of the job he loved and the life he’d never have again. Darryl was also married to Maisie’s cousin, Penelope. With his elbow resting on his open window, Darryl said to Hayes, “You left the hospital without a doctor’s discharge.” Darryl glanced at Nash. “Hey, Nash.”

  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.”

  H
ayes 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?”

  Maisie rolled her eyes. “It’s just a broken finger. It’s not like I cut an arm off or something.”

  Penelope’s brows rose. “Touchy subject, I take it?”

  “Mortifying subject,” Maisie mumbled, taking another bite of her muffin.

  Clara blessedly—or maybe not so blessedly—cut in, “All right, let’s chat about tomorrow’s festival. I need to stay home with Mason. Amelia’s brewing tonight. Penelope’s got a tour to run.” Maisie felt everyone’s gaze zero in on her, as Clara added, “Since none of us can go with you, have you figured out how you’re going to handle all this? You’ve got to bring a lot of gear to the events, along with the kegs.”

  “Of course, I’ve thought about it,” Maisie lied breezily. The festival itself she could handle. The setting up was the problem. But—and this was the biggest but of all—she didn’t want to admit any of that to her sisters. They were nailing this brewery stuff. Even Penelope who had no stake in the brewery, except to work there, had the beer tours running like clockwork. No mishaps. No accidents. Maisie simply needed to catch up. And fast. “You don’t need to worry about anything. I’ve got it all figured out.”

  Clara gave a glassy stare. “Really? What’s your plan, then?”

  Maisie cleared her throat. She hadn’t gotten that far yet. She’d only thought as far as muffins to put her sisters in a good mood. “Well, I…ahh…”

  “Why don’t you ask Hayes to help you?” Penelope interjected.

  “Hayes?” Maisie repeated.

  Penelope nodded. “Darryl told me last night that Nash told Hayes to take ten days off to make sure he’s not suffering a head injury.”

  Maisie tilted her head to the side, her thoughts freezing for a second. “Wait. Darryl talked to Hayes?”

  “Yeah,” Penelope said, unwrapping her mu
ffin. “He drove Hayes back to the hospital last night.”

  Maisie shot up from the table, her mouth dry. “Is Hayes okay? What happened?”

  “Okay, hold up there, Batman,” Penelope said with a smirk. “He’s fine. He just jumped ship and left before he was discharged. I guess the nurse helping him is the wife of one of the big guns at the station. You know what they say, happy wife, happy life…well, his wife wasn’t happy. If Hayes hadn’t gone back, it was going to mean lots of paperwork. I guess it was their anniversary, and it would have made her late for their dinner.”

  “Oh, shit,” Maisie said, returning to her seat.

  “Aunt Maisie said shit,” Mason called from the living room.

  Across the table, Clara glared. “Really?”

  “Sorry.” Maisie cringed. She was never a good influence on Mason. “That’s a bad word,” she called to him. “Never say that word ever again.”

  He ran into the kitchen. “But you just did.” His cute, six-year-old eyes were twinkling.

  Clara pointed a finger at her son. “Never say that word again, Mason. Do you understand me?”

  He screamed words Maisie didn’t even understand as he ran back into the living room.

  Maisie avoided Clara’s gaze and asked Penelope, “Did Hayes actually go back to the hospital?”

  Penelope shoved a piece of muffin into her mouth. “Yup, he stayed the night and was discharged this morning.”

  Amelia said, “Bet Hayes was thrilled about that.”

  Penelope nodded, her mouth twitching. “Darryl said he was in quite the mood when he left him last night.”

  Hayes was always in a mood, and not usually a good one. Well, to others. Hayes was grumpy most times, but not with Maisie. She liked that, knowing she made things better for him.

  “Mason, no!” Clara lurched up as Mason dove in for another muffin. He belly laughed when she grabbed him around the waist. “Okay, it’s school time for you. Say bye to your aunts and Penelope.”

  “Bye.” Mason wiggled out of her arms and then made a fart sound before running out of the room.

  Clara sighed after her son then looked back at the group, rolling her eyes. “Fart noises and laughing about poo is my life now.”