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“No. Absolutely not. If she wasn’t blaming all the city’s problems on the Tetons, we wouldn’t be in this mess. The city would love us, and all our home games would be sold out. We’re a laughingstock in the league right now.”
“You okay?” Bash asked him. “Do we need to educate anyone that your sister’s opinions aren’t yours?” Bash sounded like he looked forward to setting the record straight.
“I’m good with the team and I made it clear to the community relations department that I’ll do whatever’s needed to counter-act Harper. It’s just hard, you know? I get that she’s doing her job, and this is business, not personal, but she’s my big sister. How can this not be personal? She’s blaming us, me, for everything that’s wrong here, but she forgets that the problems have always been there. Housing has always been a problem when you’re surrounded by mountains. Kids always get bored and into trouble after school and in the summer. The roads always suck because of the winter thaw-and-freeze cycle. It’s not like the owner built on prime land, either. He cleaned up the old munitions site. And he’s starting the apartment building not too far away. As far as I can tell, any pressure the team has put on Cascade City’s infrastructure, the owner has tried to ease. He’s a good guy. We’re all good guys, but every time I open the paper, she’s attacking us.” He stopped and blew out a breath. “It’s just getting old.”
“She’ll come around,” Bash said, unlocking the doors to his jeep. They’d parked at the far end of the lot under the trees this morning, hoping the car wouldn’t be a sauna after practice. Lucas tapped on the roof to get Cal’s attention and hopefully chase away his lousy mood. Cal looked over, saw where Lucas pointed, and laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Bash asked, looking over at them. “Shit, not again.” Bash slapped his door frame. It was the third time this week his baby got a bath at the car wash.
“That’s what happens when you park under the trees.”
“Maybe Harper should turn her attention to the paint-damaging shit that comes out of these damn birds,” Bash growled, snapping his seatbelt in place.
“Nah, she’d just blame the Tetons for it. But at least this time she’d be right. You parked under the tree,” Cal pointed out before laughing at the scowl on Bash’s face. Crisis averted, at least for tonight.
Based on Cal’s outburst, Harper’s articles hurt more than he’d let on. Each cruel word must feel like cleats walking across his heart. Lucas couldn’t imagine what he’d do in Cal’s position, but he also couldn’t see one of his siblings doing this, even if it was their job.
His family supported each other. They were his number one fans, and he repaid their support by helping them financially because his father wouldn’t accept anything else. He didn’t want Lucas getting hurt on the farm, and he wanted his mental and emotional focus to be on the game and on training in the off-season.
So, Lucas had paid the tuition for his sister, Lilliana, to go through culinary school, and he had one more year’s tuition to pay until his baby sister would be done, assuming she didn’t change her major again. He’d paid for the farm’s new website, point-of-sale registers in the sales barn, new computers in the back office, and he’d co-signed the loan for the new tractor.
They’re so supportive they’ve squeezed me out of working in the family business, he thought as Bash pulled into the drive-through lane at their favorite fast-food restaurant. Large fries and shakes would stave off their hunger until they got home and fired up the grill. But I won’t be squeezed out for long. Not once I’ve convinced them to buy Brewster’s space and open a restaurant. He shoved a few fries into his mouth, exploring the flavor and texture, and hoped his sister’s fries were just as delicious.
Chapter 5
“Can I get you a cookie or a rice crispy bar?” Maggie asked the customer, who’d parked their butt in one of the largest booths shortly after lunch. Papers covered most of the surface, leaving just enough space for the large laptop and wireless keyboard. A scanner sat off to the side. Maggie glanced into his messenger bag to see if a printer lurked in it.
“I’m fine, but a refill would be great.” He handed her his almost empty cup and gave her a brief smile, as if that was payment enough. And it was since Brewster’s didn’t charge for refills.
“Black, right?” she asked, knowing she was wrong.
“Cream. Two sugars. And bonus points if it’s fresh and extra hot. I have about an hour’s more work to do.”
“Good to know your end is in sight.” Maggie walked away before saying anything else she shouldn’t. She dumped his leftover coffee down the drain and shook her head. He came in several times a week and never finished a cup before wanting a refill.
She didn’t blame him for passing on the treats. Jack bought them from a food distributor, and the company wrapped them in plastic. She couldn’t convince him to let her bake cookies and brownies in the back kitchen. When she’d first approached him, he’d scoffed and pointed out there weren’t appliances in the kitchen other than the dishwasher. The next time she came armed with spreadsheets showing the cost of the appliances, the cost per cookie and bar, and the estimated sales and revenue. It would have taken only eighteen months, and he would have turned a profit. They’d had that discussion almost five years ago.
She checked the timer on the dispenser and gave it a jiggle. It seemed about half full and had another twenty minutes until she needed to brew a fresh container. It was still technically fresh and hot-ish, but she felt bad about her waspish comment to the customer. Using Brewster’s as his office wasn’t his fault. It was Jack’s.
Maggie grabbed a clean mug and stuck it under the espresso nozzle, dreaming about what she’d do differently once Brewsters was hers. Building out the kitchen was her top priority, and she already had estimates of what it would cost. Fresh baked goods and a time limit on tables would be her immediate focus. She could almost smell the chocolate chip cookies baking now.
The hiss of the espresso machine brought her attention back to the apology Americano she was making for squatter-man to ease her conscience. Too bad you can’t make it up to Lucas, she thought as she added the cream and a heavy helping of sugar to the cup.
Her grandmother had read her the riot act about how poorly she’d treated Lucas when he’d stopped at their farmers’ market booth. That he was unexpected and Maggie hadn’t wanted him there, hadn’t mattered to Nanna. She said Maggie had been rude and surly and her behavior was an embarrassment to the family. “Lucas is Cal’s roommate, and the Rodriguez family has farmed in the valley for over a hundred and fifty years. They are well-known and respected in the area. He’s charming and a tall drink of water on a hot day. You should give him a chance, Maggie.”
“I know what you’re up to, and your matchmaking won’t work. We just rub each other the wrong way,” Maggie had argued, hoping Nanna would drop it. She hadn’t, proving she was as stubborn as her beloved goats.
“A little rubbing and friction in a relationship is good. It keeps things fresh and satisfying.” Nanna said, wiggling her eyebrows.
“Eww. Ick. Now I need to bleach my ears.” Nanna had laughed, before reminding Maggie to be better next time.
Maggie grabbed a cookie that was destined for tomorrow’s day-old discount basket. “Enjoy.” She placed the mug and cookie next to squatter-man’s elbow. “On the house,” she said as he raised his eyebrows. He pointed to his earphone and mouthed thanks.
She grabbed a nearby dish pan. Before making the Americano, there’d been a steady stream of customers and, as the only barista, she’d been too busy to bus tables. Vivi was due soon, and if Maggie had the tables cleaned, then Vivi could wait on customers while Maggie conquered the mountain of paperwork Jack had left for her.
She carried the bin to the kitchen and was loading the dishwasher when the front door buzzed. She dried her hands on the towel over her shoulder and breathed a sigh of relief, hoping it might be Vivi on time for once. “Hi, welcome to”—her smile dropped—“Brewster’s.” So much for doing better next time, she chastised herself, looking at Lucas and wondering if her earlier guilt had conjured him up.
“Hi,” he said, leaning over the counter, undeterred by her unwelcoming welcome. His hair was wet and unruly, as if he’d been running his fingers through it. He smelled good, too. Clean and woodsy, like a pine forest on a hot summer day. Be better, Maggie.
