Sassy Blonde (Three Chicks Brewery 1)

The power of her statement was a direct hit to Hayes’s gut. Only his pride kept him from dropping to his knees and gasping for breath.

Clara stared right through him, a loving sister who wasn’t about to back down, but she offered him a kind smile. “Thanks for all you did to help her these past two weeks. I won’t forget that anytime soon.”

And with the ground shaking beneath him, his heartbeat roaring in his ears, she walked away.

Almost as if she sensed his emotion and his need of her like she always did, Maisie spun around, her eyes connecting with his. Her smile brightened. She said something to Seth and then bounced her way over. Then, like she always did, she threw her arms around him like he deserved it. “You’re finally here.”

But he didn’t deserve her. He forced himself to let go. “I can’t stay I’m afraid.” Yeah, he could, but now he knew, he shouldn’t.

“Oh no,” she said, pulverizing him with those sweet eyes. “Why?”

“I found our suspect.”

She slapped his arm, eyes huge and twinkling. “You did not?”

He nodded, desperate to pull her close again. He shoved his hands into his pockets, clenching his fists tight. “Detective Stewart is adding me onto the conference call, but I wanted to come by and see what you’ve done here.” He took in the crowd on the dance floor and the crowd at the bar before he forced a smile. “It’s absolutely beautiful…and busy.”

“Right?” She gave a shit-eating grin, totally lit up, and bounced on the balls of her feet. “I still can’t believe it all worked out, but enough about me.” Then her stare turned deeper, searching. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said immediately. “Just tired.” Lies. All fucking lies. “Enjoy tonight. You deserve every minute of this.” He pulled his hands out of his pockets and gathered her in his arms, inhaled her coconut-scented shampoo, and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll call tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she said tightly, leaning away, her eyes searching his again. “You sure everything is okay?”

This time, he only nodded.

The squinting of her eyes told him she read right through him. “Hayes—”

The world began swallowing him up again, because Clara was right. Maisie, in all her beauty and kind heart, deserved more. “Enjoy tonight, Maisie.”

14

Late the next afternoon, Maisie stretched out her legs, placing her ankles up on the armrest between Clara and Amelia in the back seat of Clara’s sedan and sighed in happiness. Everything hurt, most of all her broken finger. She’d obviously overdone it last night, and not even the painkillers touched the pain today. It didn’t help that she and her sisters, along with Penelope, spent the day cleaning up their property after last night’s bash and took down the stage and dance floor. By the end of their cleaning, if Maisie never saw another plastic cup, she’d consider that a good thing. But the pain seemed to come second to waiting for Hayes’s call all morning. She’d reached for her cell more times to check if her ringer was turned off than she’d ever admit to anyone. But he hadn’t called. And a little voice in her head told her something was very, very wrong.

When he finally did call, his voice had been hard and cold, telling her he wasn’t alone in whatever room he sat in. “Can you and your sisters come up to Boulder? I’ve got something here I want to show you.”

“Of course—” she had replied.

“Good. I’ll see you soon.”

The call ended as abruptly as it started. Maisie had felt shaken then, and that uneasiness still remained after they’d dropped Mason off at the sitter’s. Only minutes into their drive to Boulder, Maisie couldn’t stand being inside her own damn head with her runaway thoughts. “What do you think Hayes has found?” she asked.

Behind the driver’s seat, Clara said, “Hopefully the prick that burned our trailer.”

“I hope so,” Amelia agreed, fingering the end of her French braid. “I don’t know about all of you, but I’m beyond ready to put all this behind us and move on.”

Maisie raised a hand. “I second that.”

Amelia glanced back between the seats and smiled, not even saying anything about Maisie’s bare feet.

How things had changed. Maisie remembered a time when Clara would’ve swooshed her feet off and Amelia would’ve have snapped that they stunk, even if they hadn’t. They were kinder to one another now. Everything was so different. Not only because of Laurel’s death, which ultimately had brought her closer to her sisters, but the brewery had changed them too. She realized, for the first time ever in her life, it felt like she belonged right there in the car with them. And Maisie couldn’t help but wonder if that’s exactly what Pops had planned all along. That his final wishes had nothing to do with the brewery itself but about bringing Maisie into Clara and Amelia’s tight circle.

“Any word from the insurance adjuster?” Amelia asked, dragging Maisie from her thoughts.

Clara turned down the country song on the radio. “I talked to them this morning. He said it’d be weeks before we see any money, but I got the feeling that weeks actually means months.”

“Great,” Maisie grumbled, watching a hawk soaring over the hay field through her window. “I never understood why any of this takes so long. We’ve been paying the insurance company for years to ensure we’ve got money there if we need it. Why all the friggin’ paperwork? Just cut the damn check.”

“You won’t hear me arguing,” Clara said. “It’s ridiculous.”