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“A nerve I’ll hit again if I don’t know what it is.”
She huffed. “It was the bakery comment.” Lucas nodded his head, encouraging her to continue. “You may have noticed I’m a bigger girl.”
“If that’s code for goddess, then yes, I have noticed.” Her eyes widened and a delightful pink spread across her cheeks.
“And, well, sometimes I get comments that I must be an excellent baker because I’m big.” What? His confusion must have shown, because she said, “You know, like the opposite of that never trust a skinny chef expression.” She shrugged as if it were no big deal. But it was. Obviously. Who are these idiots?
“You don’t want to own a bakery because some people are stupid?” She looked embarrassed as she nodded her head. “I’m big too, but that doesn’t stop me. I’m not about to let narrow-minded people dictate my life.”
“Says the professional football player who is supposed to be big.”
“So, you’re saying I can be big as long as I play, but when I stop it won’t be acceptable anymore?”
“It’s different for men.”
“It shouldn’t be.”
“Well, it is,” she mumbled.
“Then we’ll just need to pre-screen everyone before they come into your bakery. No fools allowed. Only people who can see the beautiful, incredible goddess you are.”
“But I don’t want a bakery. I don’t know how to run one.”
“You’d figure it out.”
“You’re not listening to me.” She swatted his chest, but he captured her hand.
“I am. I’ve listened and I’ve watched. Your head says one thing, but your heart says another. And I’m a lot more interested in your heart,” he said, kissing the back of her hand. “Goodnight, Maggie.”
Chapter 14
Maggie paced between the front and rear windows, hoping to see Lucas. It had been two weeks, and she was desperate to see him. The Tetons had had two away games and an early flu bug had hit most of her staff. They’d been so desperate, Jack had even worked several shifts, but she’d sent him home early today, for both of their sakes. Maggie wanted to keep her job, but she didn’t think she could keep her mouth shut much longer. She’d rather be run off her feet than listen to his endless complaints or search for a new job.
“They all want their fancy-shmancy drinks with non-milk, milk, not good old black coffee,” he’d grumbled. Loudly. “And do you know how much creamer they use? And how much the milk alternatives costs?” he’d asked, not waiting for her response. But she knew. She placed the order every week. “And don’t even get me started on oat milk.” He’d snorted, and Maggie held her tongue, praying he’d stop, but he hadn’t. “How the hell do you even milk an oat?” he’d muttered as he’d cleaned up the customers’ prep area filled with complimentary creamers, a variety of sweeteners, and shakers of cinnamon, nutmeg, and Maggie’s special blend.
Thankfully, Jack had enough common sense to wait until the customers were out of earshot before sharing his insights, but he wasn’t as considerate to his employees. Just that morning, Maggie had to convince Vivi not to quit.
“Bunch of overindulged, overprivileged, softies. Back when I was your age…”
You walked barefoot two miles to school uphill both ways in a snowstorm. Yadda yadda, yadda, Maggie thought, hoping to drown out his voice, but it didn’t work. He kept yabbering and whining and complaining. Maggie tried to maintain her composure, but she snapped. “Jack!” He startled and dropped the filter with freshly ground coffee on the floor.
“Great, now I have to clean up another of your messes,” he said, turning toward the broom, but she grabbed his flannel shirt sleeve stopping him. She took a deep breath and gathered herself, summoning her remaining compassion and empathy. This isn’t easy on his joints. I’ve made changes, successful changes that he isn’t used to.
“Jack, I will clean up the mess. I always do. You know that.” Jack had the decency to look embarrassed. “Go home. Please.”
“But you need my help.” Maggie resisted the urge to look up the definition of help on her phone and share it with him. Whatever he was doing, it sure as heck wasn’t helping.
“There’s only an hour left until closing and it should be quiet. It would be a big help to me tomorrow if you could go to the hardware store. Maybe even switch out that light in the supply room?” She could manage the store if he took care of her errands.
He nodded his head. Maggie normally did those things, including most of the repairs and maintenance that needed doing, like installing shelves or changing light fixtures. Spending weekends on the farm and remodeling houses with her parents had taught her basic, and some advanced, homeowner survival skills. “I could check in your order for you when it comes,” he offered, and Maggie’s jaw clenched at this patronizing tone. He made it sound as if he was doing her a favor. Why doesn’t he care more about his business?
She forced the corners of her mouth up, hoping it looked like a smile, but fearing it was more of a snarl. Maggie needed this job. And maybe now that Jack had been back in the saddle for a few days, so to speak, he’d remember how hard it was to run the business and he’d be eager for her to buy it and make his escape. Maybe even eager enough to drop the price he’d thrown out last spring before the tourists poured into town.
Maggie felt an honest smile bloom across her mouth as she looked at Jack. The idea of Jack being fed-up and willing to drop the price was the silver lining she’d been waiting for all week. “Checking in the order would be a tremendous help. Thanks, Jack.”
He left while Maggie swept up the spilled coffee grounds. And now, having wiped down all the tables that didn’t have customers at them, she paced, waiting for Lucas. Like a silly teenager, she thought, twirling her hair around her finger and leaning her forehead against the cool glass.
And then she spotted him walking down the hallway. Maggie rushed behind the counter and struck what she hoped was a casual pose. She didn’t want to look eager. Lucas had enough ego for both of them and she didn’t need to fuel it. He pulled open the door and smiled when he saw her. “Hi. It’s getting so late I didn’t think you’d make it,” she blurted. Way to play it cool, lame-o.
