Sassy Blonde - Stacey Kennedy Page 0,23
hundred or so more followers on Instagram and Facebook. Looks like that tag-us giveaway seems to be working.”
“The tag-us giveaway?”
“It’s an idea that Amelia came up with. If you looked at the swag”—she nudged her shoulder into him—“then you would have seen the sign that she had made. Anyone who takes a photograph with a glass of Foxy Diva and tags us on social media, is entered to win ten cases of Foxy Diva at the end of the three festivals.”
“Good idea,” he said.
“Yup, brilliant.” She didn’t seem bothered that the idea hadn’t been hers, and was glad to give credit where it was due. She took a couple of steps backward until she stood in front of the backdrop. She took hold of his T-shirt and tugged. “Come on. A picture at every stop to remember the time you totally saved my ass.”
He chuckled, settling in next to her. Her wildflower scent enveloped him, filling every bit of air he had, as he wrapped an arm around her back and leaned down to get to her height. Her warm body pressed into his. She felt strong and somehow soft too. Like she stood on own her two feet and could kick some ass, but that when she needed and wanted, she could give in and let go. He’d never known how much he liked that combination until right now. She angled her head toward his, her beautiful smile filled his vision as she snapped the picture.
When she moved away, Hayes was glad for it. Heat flooded his groin, need hitting him with such intensity he fought against the instinct to pull her into his arms again and… Pull it together, man.
He thrust a hand through his hair, but sudden coldness stole any heat Maisie brought. The creeper who’d been watching Maisie before approached her. The hunger in the guy’s eyes grated on Hayes’s last nerve.
“Hey, sugar,” the guy said.
Hayes restrained his snort since he bet Maisie found the guy attractive. He looked athletic. Confident enough, likely making him good with the ladies. And his hair looked like a modern cut, obviously a city guy, with a beaming white smile to finish off his good looks.
“Back again already,” Maisie said with her sweet smile. “Good beer always brings ’em back.”
The guy nearly purred, “Especially when such a pretty lady is serving up the beer.”
Now Hayes held back the roll of his eyes. Maisie was far too smart to fall for this guy’s bucket of bullshit.
“It helps when her customers have charming smiles,” she said.
Hayes jerked his head toward her, finding her leaning against the bar, squishing her breasts together, maybe not on purpose. But Hayes noticed. And so did the guy.
The creep gave her a smile that didn’t look charming. He looked like a damn snake. They exchanged flirty small talk while Maisie poured the beer from the tap, and the guy’s eyes lingered too long on her breasts.
“Enjoy your beer,” she finally said, handing him the plastic cup.
“Believe me”—he winked—“I’ll be back for more.”
She smiled.
Hayes snorted loudly.
Once the guy walked away, Maisie slowly turned toward him, eyebrows raised. “Problem?”
“He’s not right for you.”
“Oh, really.” She crossed her arms, smirking. “Are you telling me you know the right type of man for me?”
“Yeah.” He gestured at the prick walking back to his douchebag friends in the sea of people. “It’s not that guy.”
The announcer called over the loudspeaker, and the crowd erupted in whistles and catcalls, as Maisie said, “Trust me, right now, any guy is the right guy. If you haven’t noticed, there hasn’t been anyone new to town in a while.” She studied the guy at the table, who watched her right back. “I mean, he’s cute, in a fancy way.”
Every instinct in Hayes screamed creep. Having no real way to explain that, Hayes went a different route. “Yeah, if you want a guy who spends more time looking in the mirror than you do.”
She burst out laughing, placing her warm hand on his arm. “Now I really can’t be with someone who is prettier than me.”
“Exactly.” Hayes smiled, fully aware of her touch. Of how he wanted that touch to move lower. “Take that guy.” He flicked his chin at the man in camo ordering a beer from the booth across from them. “He’s good.”
Maisie followed his stare and then frowned. “Hayes Taylor, what is wrong with you?” she snapped, glaring at him. “I’m twenty-four years old. I want a heartthrob that will break my bed, not