“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.”
Amelia and Penelope laughed.
Maisie said, dead serious, “It could be worse. At least it’s not about killing things, ghosts, or his desire to cut anything open.”
Clara scrunched her nose and slowly shook her head. “Seriously, Maisie, I don’t know how you do it, but I can always count on you to make me feel better in weird ways.”
“Of course you can.” Maisie smiled. Mason, while a total handful, was a really good, sweet kid. And Clara was the reason for it. She was an amazing mom. Uptight and a little stressed at times, but a damn good mom, especially considering she was raising Mason on her own. Maisie had long suspected that the father was Clara’s high school sweetheart, Sullivan Kenne. Even Amelia was convinced the now-professional baseball player was Mason’s dad. But Clara wouldn’t ever admit to it. After a while, the conversation never came up again.
“Mason Carter get back here right now,” Clara called in her mom voice. “We need to talk about the fart noises.”
When Clara’s voice disappeared after she left the house, Penelope added to Maisie, “Honestly, I think you’d be doing Hayes a favor by asking him to go to the festivals with you. He doesn’t really seem like the type to just sit around and do nothing. Maybe a road trip is right up his alley.”
“Maybe,” Maisie agreed. But the moment the thought entered her mind, her belly filled with butterflies. Three nights alone with Hayes…
As if reading her thoughts, Penelope grinned. “Unless there is a reason you don’t want to be alone with him?”
“Of course, there is isn’t,” Maisie said, heat rising to her cheeks.
Amelia gave a sly smile. “Mm-hmm, sure. We all believe that.”
“Oh, hush, both of you,” Maisie said, taking a muffin and putting it in a Ziploc bag, realizing that apparently she had been showing her feelings a little too much lately. Feelings she hadn’t even totally figured out yet, considering that mixed in with her attraction for Hayes was also a bucket load of guilt for feeling anything for Laurel’s husband. “Hayes and I are friends,” she said to everyone, including herself.
“Right, just friends,” Amelia said. “Who’s that muffin for?”
Maisie refused to look at them as she pressed the bag closed. “If I’m going to ask Hayes for a favor, I need to bring him a treat, don’t I?”
She nearly made it out of the kitchen when Penelope burst out laughing and called, “Hate to break it to you, Maisie, but I don’t think that’s the muffin Hayes wants.”
When the Lyft dropped Hayes off at home at a little after ten o’clock in the morning, his throbbing headache from being awakened every hour to ensure he didn’t have a concussion worsened. Waiting in the circular driveway was his father, leaning against the SUV with POLICE CHIEF written on the driver’s side door. The gossip train had obviously filled his dad in on the fall yesterday, but Hayes didn’t even want to know how his father knew he was on his way home from the hospital. Hayes shared his father’s strong build, only his dad was slightly shorter, with darker brown eyes and a salt-and-pepper beard that matched the hair on his head. There was nothing soft about his father, including his stare as he looked upon Hayes.
“Thanks for the ride,” Hayes said to the driver before slamming the door shut.