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“I would have been here earlier, but your Aunt Elspeth insisted we turn all the hives at a weird angle. Barbara didn’t disagree with her, so I went along with it, but I still don’t think she knows anything about bees.” Elspeth didn’t, but she knew the weather and what Mother Nature had in store for them over the winter. Elspeth was never wrong. “Sweets for the sweet,” he said, pushing a jar of honey toward her, and she felt her cheeks heat. “Elspeth also said you’d need a refill.”
“I do. Thank you for bringing it.” Gah, I sound like I’m in a Regency romance, she thought, wishing she could get back to feeling normal around Lucas, whatever that felt like. She’d gone from annoyed, to infuriated, to possibly infatuated within the last month. She wouldn’t know normal if it walked up and introduced itself.
“My pleasure,” he said, and Maggie smirked. It sounded like she wasn’t the only one caught in a historical romance. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He leaned against the counter. Maggie didn’t know if he wanted to be closer to her or if he was too tired to stand up.
“I’d better be. You spent the afternoon in a field of dead wildflowers with bees and the morning watching game tapes.”
“But you’re a close tie with watching Cal catch that bullet from Bash in the end zone last Sunday. I could have watched that replay all day, but then I would have missed you.”
Maggie’s heart raced at his sweet words and the way his eyes seemed to swallow her whole. Find normal. “Would you, um, like a cup of tea? We have chamomile.”
“Too risky. The last thing I need is to fall asleep on the drive home.” Maggie noticed the dark circles under his eyes and a welt on his neck.
“Looks like you got stung.” Maggie grazed her fingers across the angry red welt.
“Tricky bee found his way in. Barbara put something on it when we got back to the ranch, and it feels a lot better.”
“Probably Aunt Elspeth’s secret salve,” she said, as she poured the boiling water over the tea bags to steep. But the salve wasn’t so secret now that Maggie and her sisters knew how to brew it, too.
She poured milk, honey, a dash of cinnamon, and a few drops of vanilla into the pitcher to heat them. Once the milk mixture reached the desired temperature, she removed the tea bags from the cup and poured the hot milk over the tea. “Relaxing but not sleep-inducing,” she said, snapping the lid into place. “I feel bad about you driving all the way in to see me when you look so tired. We could have Facetimed, again.”
“I am tired, but I wanted to see you. Can you sit with me for a bit?” he asked, and Maggie followed, torn. Joining a friend was an absolute no-no, and sitting with a guest wasn’t the norm. He wasn’t a guest, and Maggie felt like they’d skipped the friend part. What she knew, she liked, but she needed to know more about Lucas before her heart got more invested. “Will this work?” He motioned to a table near the register, and Maggie nodded, relieved. If a customer needed anything, she could quickly scoot behind the counter.
Maggie told him about her earlier blow-up with Jack. Listening to her and watching her hands move as she talked was tons better than Facetiming would have been. “Ever since he promoted me, he’s been hands-off, which has been great, but this week he’s acted like he didn’t even care about Brewster’s. Something feels off.” She shrugged.
“Have you thought any more about buying that business?”
“Yes, especially when Jack’s around. I’ll keep plugging away at saving for it. I hoped you enjoyed that sundae because that’s the last splurge I’ll have for a longtime.”
“I can pick up the tab for both of us, but”—he leaned forward and turned his head as if making sure no one would overhear—“I may have a solution.”
“If it involves donating more plasma, I’m already at the limit, but I could spare a kidney. Or is it a liver?”
“It’s a kidney and you don’t need to donate anything other than your eternal gratitude to me.”
“Sure, what’s your solution?” she asked, but from the look on her face, he didn’t think he’d be getting eternal thanks.
“Why don’t you ask your parents or Five for a loan? I’m sure they’d love to help you.” Maggie’s face screwed up, and she leaned back, studying him. Lucas forced himself not to squirm under her scrutiny. His idea was great, and he didn’t know what Ms. Independent’s problem was. Well, other than asking for help. “Come on, admit it. It’s a great idea. The only reason you don’t like it is because you didn’t think of it,” he taunted.
“I have thought of it.” Her admission caught him off-guard.
“But?”
“But I don’t have a great track record of being a success.” She pulled one of his napkins toward her and pleated it. Nervous tell? he wondered, remembering the other times she’d done it.
“Says who?”
“No one says it, but my siblings have all eclipsed me. Harper’s a successful journalist—”
“Who’s smearing her brother’s employer across the front page every chance she gets?”
“Penny runs a successful bookstore—”
“Co-manages with her aunt who’s owned the store for years,” he reminded her.
“And owns a car.”
“You could, too, but you’re saving for something big, which is something successful people do.”
