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“I focus on the football, and the sound of Bash’s count to settle me,” Lucas admitted, and she could have kissed him for saving her.
“I stare at the goal posts until the crowd goes out of focus and then I watch the ball,” the kicker added.
“I’m never nervous, unless I know I’m getting the ball. And then I’m nervous that I’ll tip off the other team with my nervousness, so I’m the last one who should be talking now,” Cal trailed off.
“Damn, Cal baby, you’re a hot mess,” Marquess said, turning back toward Maggie. “Me? I’m not nervous about anything. I got it all under control.”
“I look at the back of the room,” Bash said, surprising Maggie. If she hadn’t been looking in his direction, she wouldn’t have known it was him. “Especially during press conferences. Those are the worst.”
Maggie didn’t need to worry about a press conference. She needed to worry about keeping her cool during the competition. “What do you do during the games?”
He grinned sheepishly, saying, “I focus on Lucas’s ass.”
“You’re not the only one,” Nanna said, and the room erupted in laughter. The color of Lucas’s face matched Maggie’s cherry sauce and if she didn’t stop thinking about Lucas’s butt in football pants, she’d be red, too. She finished frosting the cake without incident as the players talked around her.
Lucas got up and opened the patio door off of the kitchen. The cool night breeze was a welcome addition. Between the oven kicking off heat and the men exuding it, Maggie felt flush, especially when Lucas brushed her arm on his way to peek in the oven.
The timer beeped, and she pulled out the blueberry buckle. As it cooled, she and Nanna sliced slivers of the Black Forest cake and the caramel apple spice cake she’d made earlier in the day. Their plating wasn’t pretty or professional looking, but it would have to do. Penny arranged forks and napkins on the island while her dad, Grandad, and Cal put the room back to rights.
Nanna clapped her hands and told everyone to come up and grab samples. While she and Penny handed them out, Maggie cut the buckle and scooped a piece into each bowl, wishing she’d made more. But between the buckle and the two cakes, everyone would have a few bites of everything and hopefully it would be enough to satisfy. The last man through the line had no sooner grabbed his samples than the first brought his empty plates and bowl to the sink. The players thanked Maggie and told her which one she should make.
“Do you need help cleaning up?” Lucas asked, handing her his bowl. It looked like he’d licked it clean, and her heart smiled. Cal stood behind him, looking anxious and shaking his head. Cleanup help would be nice, but with her luck everyone would disappear, and she’d be left alone with Lucas.
“We’re fine, but thank you.” She plunged her hands into the soapy hot water to keep from reaching out and touching him. He’s like the sun and I’m a helpless planet being sucked into his orbit. “Lucas”—she turned toward him—“thank you. For organizing this and everything.” She sounded lame, but she couldn’t find the words. When she won, it would be due in part to him. For backing her into a corner and giving her no choice but to endure a mock audience.
“You’re welcome,” he said, leaning toward her, and Maggie’s eyes widened. All eyes were on them. As if sensing her distress, he stepped back. “I’ll see you Saturday morning. I’ll be the one with the subpar sous chefs.”
Cal and Bash took an instant dislike to his words and their argument followed them out of the house. Maggie watched their retreating backs, certain he would have kissed her if they’d been alone. And she wouldn’t have stopped him.
“You planning to scrub that same bowl all night?” Nanna asked, opening the dishwasher.
“You always want them rinsed,” Maggie said in her defense.
“Rinsed, not exfoliated.” She took the bowl from Maggie.
Penny snorted. “That’s for your face, Nanna.”
“Face and any other body parts you want smooth and silky,” her mom said, bumping Maggie’s hip playfully. “That Marquess couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”
“He’s a natural born flirt.” Maggie shrugged, hoping to end this conversation. They were not talking about her love life. She didn’t have time for one. Not when Brewster’s was in her sights. Besides, Marquess wasn’t her type, not that she knew what her type was, but she knew it wasn’t him.
“I miss flirting. Four doesn’t flirt like he used to,” Alison pouted.
“Three doesn’t flirt at all,” Nanna complained. “Never has. Be happy you got something, Alison.”
“Oh, I am. It’s just…sometimes I miss being young, you know?” Nanna nodded as she filled the soap dispenser in the dishwasher.
“Being young isn’t all it’s cracked up to be either,” Penny said.
“I know sweetheart, it’s just sometimes it would be nice if your father looked at me the way Lucas and Bash look at the two of you.” Alison balled up her rag and tossed it at the crock Nanna kept in the corner for dirty washrags and kitchen towels. It hit the edge and bounced off.
Penny snorted. “Get your eyes checked, Mom. Bash looks at me like I’m something he found stuck to the bottom of his shoe. In his mind, I’m a small-town, nobody hick, wasting my time selling books.” Penny leaned against the counter and twisted her rag before tossing it. She missed, and it landed on the floor with a splat.
They looked at Maggie expectantly as she gathered up her baking supplies. “If Lucas looks at me goofy, he’s either got indigestion or gas. It’s not me.” The three women looked at her like she’d sprouted a second head. “Seriously. There’s nothing there but a whole lot of aggravation.” She threw her rag, and it joined the other two on the floor.
“Me thinks she doth protest too much,” Nanna sang, as she tossed her rag into the crock. Alison huffed at her mother-in-law’s success and picked up the three rags that hadn’t made it.
“I’m not protesting. You’ve seen us, Nanna. Other than tonight, I’m barely civil to the man.”
