against the pillows. He was certain she wasn’t thinking sexy thoughts, but she looked like a French model laid out, ready for him to paint. And he wanted to paint her.
He cleared his throat. “What are we going to watch?” He handed her the beer and then took a seat next to her.
She snuggled a little closer to him, obviously an innocent move, but it didn’t feel innocent anymore. He looked around the house. A house that Maisie had helped him put together. She’d been there for him during the darkest times in his life. Until he could actually breathe again, fully. Until he could walk outside and not want to hide. And as she moved closer, he caught her scent, a mix of sunshine and wildflowers. He stared down at her smooth, bare legs, and Hayes knew one thing for certain.
Maisie was no longer just his friend. He wanted more, and he didn’t know how to reconcile that with his love for Laurel.
“Today is weird.”
Hayes blinked out of his memory, frustrated his erection had only hardened. He turned toward Amelia’s voice. His gaze then fell to Beckett, who couldn’t take his eyes off Maisie’s sister. Beckett and Amelia dated during Amelia’s senior year of high school, and Hayes knew for certain the reason Beckett didn’t date seriously was because he still loved Amelia. But Amelia had a fiancé now, Luka. Her high school romance with Beckett long behind her. “I agree,” Hayes said, glad for the interruption, if only for his hard-on to finally soften. “Today is weird.”
Amelia strode farther into the room. “What happened?” she asked, sidling up the bed.
“He fell off a horse and hurt himself,” Maisie said before he could answer.
Hayes sighed in exasperation. To Amelia, he explained, “No, I didn’t hurt myself. I don’t have a single bruise, cut, or anything, but Nash’s insurance company requires that when we take a fall, we get looked over by a doctor to get cleared for work again. I’m fine. This is protocol, nothing more.”
Maisie’s eyes squinted, lit with an inner twinkle of mischief. “He keeps saying that he’s fine.”
“Which means he’s not fine at all.” Amelia laughed.
“Ladies,” Hayes cut in with a frown, “when I’m say I’m fine, I’m actually fine.”
Both of them burst out laughing. Either at him, or with him, Hayes wasn’t sure.
Coming to his rescue, Beckett’s cell rang.
“It’s Nash,” Beckett said to Hayes, then lifted the phone to his ear. “Hey, Nash. What’s up?” His voice faded as he strode out into the hallway.
Amelia turned to Maisie. “All right, Maisie-Moo, you’ve been discharged. Ready to go home?” Amelia was the only one to call Maisie that nickname, and as much as Maisie said she hated it, Hayes knew she liked it. Even loved it.
“Thank you, all that is holy,” Maisie replied eagerly. Though her attention soon snapped to Hayes. “Unless you want me to stay with you.”
He lost himself in the concern in her eyes. Christ, that felt good. A little too good. “Nah, you’ve been here all day. Go home.”
Her mouth twitched. “Because you’re fine, right?”
“Smart ass.” He snorted. “And yes, I’m fine.”
She regarded him for a good long moment. Nurse Maisie giving him a quick assessment. She must have finally believed him since she nodded. “Okay. Call if you need anything.”
He inclined his head in response, having no intention to call. What he wanted was to get the hell out of there. The smell of astringent, hand sanitizer, and cleaning supplies were giving him a headache that had nothing to do with the fall. The doctor was being cautious. Hayes knew his body. He hadn’t hit his head when he’d fallen from the gelding that bucked him off. Nothing hurt. He’d barely even hit the ground before he bounced back up. “Next time we see each other,” he said with a smile he hoped was reassuring, “let’s avoid ending up in the hospital?”
Maisie laughed. “Sounds like a plan. Hope you get out of here soon.” She gave him a little wave, showing off her finger that had been splinted, and left the room, followed by Amelia.
Hayes dropped his head back against the soft pillow. Today sucked, and when Beckett returned to the room with a deep frown, Hayes knew it wasn’t about to get any better. “What is it?” he grumbled.
Pity shone in Beckett’s eyes. “Nash said to consider yourself on vacation. Ten days.”
“Fuck that,” Hayes snapped, pushing up off the bed, his cowboy boots hitting the floor. “Did you tell Nash