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Jack began pumping Lucas’s hand. “It’s the least I can do for the guy who found me a buyer for this place.”
Maggie knocked the milk jug against the teacups, dousing her arm and stomach in scalding water. She blinked rapidly as she pulled her blouse away from her skin. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to—” Maggie didn’t finish her sentence as she scurried into the kitchen. She tore off her blouse and tossed it on the counter.
She’d deal with the tea stains and Jack’s statement after she’d healed her skin and changed into a spare Brewster’s T-shirt. Unless Mr. Magnanimous lets me go home early, she thought before centering herself. Closing her eyes and taking deep breaths. She crossed her arm over her stomach and draped her hand on her burned arm and imagined the exhaust vent sucking all the heat out of her skin. She visualized laying her arm in the Cascade River, allowing the cool mountain water to soothe it.
“What are you doing? You need to get water on that,” Lucas said, barging into the kitchen startling her. She stood in front of him, wearing her work bra as Jack’s words rang in her ears. He shoved Maggie toward the sink and fumbled with the cold water. “Jack wouldn’t shut up, so I walked around him. How bad is it?” he asked nervously, moving her hand away. His eyes widened. “It’s barely red. Does it feel better already?” His gaze moved to her stomach.
Skin? Yes. Head and heart? Not so much. Maggie flinched when he touched her, needing him to stop. He’d interrupted her healing, and while her skin looked normal, it was still tender, as was her heart.
“About what Jack said. Is it true?” she asked, hating that her voice cracked. She needed to be strong, and she didn’t want to convict him until she’d heard his side of the story.
Lucas winced and bowed his head. “Yes, but it happened before everything. It was the first time I stopped in looking for you. Jack and I got to talking. He mentioned he was looking forward to retirement, but his buyer was dragging their heels. It looked like a great location for a restaurant, so I mentioned it to my dad.”
“But you knew I wanted it.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. She’d rest here, just for a minute until her energy returned.
“I didn’t know it was Brewster’s you wanted. You never told me. And I didn’t even know you were saving for a business for almost two months after Jack told me he wanted to sell.” Lucas cautiously pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her as if he was afraid he’d break, or she’d refuse. His hands lightly splayed across her back, keeping her warm. “And my dad wasn’t telling me anything, so I couldn’t warn you.”
“You could only sit on the sidelines and cheer me on,” Maggie said, understanding his dilemma. Rock, meet hard place. She snuggled closer, wanting to ease his pain.
She rubbed her hand on his cheek. The friction of his scratchy whiskers against her smooth palm made her feel alive, as if there was a live current running between them and she drew energy from him. “You wanted to help your family.”
He nodded. “And myself. I wanted this to be a way into the family business, so I’d have something when football ended.” Maggie appreciated his honesty, but he’d also gained by her loss. Maggie wanted to scream in frustration. If Lucas hadn’t wanted to help everyone, she wouldn’t be in this mess. She’d be the one buying Brewster’s, not Jon Rodriguez.
“When did you find out?” Maggie asked, concerned about how this would affect the promises he’d made to Five and Nanna and Grandad, and worried about what this would do to their relationship. Where did they go from here with this lie between them? Lucas should have told her as soon as he knew. Couples don’t keep those kinds of secrets, she thought uneasily as she looked at her pale arm.
“Just now.” Lucas laughed bitterly. Maggie leaned away from him to look at his face, but his hands braced her body. Oh, Lucas. Maggie’s heart broke for him. “The farm is not your concern, Lucas. Focus on football, Lucas. And can you buy your brother a new truck?” he said, mimicking his father. “He doesn’t want me, just my money.” Lucas sagged against her as if his bitter words weighed him down.
“I want you. We want you, and none of us needs or wants your money. It’s only you we want.” She pulled his head down and kissed the salty tear rolling down his cheek.
“I was so afraid, and I didn’t know what to do. I thought this would be the end of us.”
“You wanting to help your family and me will not be the end of us.” She felt his heart beating beneath her palm, and it matched hers.
A shiver ran down her arms, reminding her she stood there in an ugly bra under harsh industrial lights. Maggie burrowed into him. If she pressed against him, he wouldn’t be able to look at her. He rubbed his hands over her arms, and Maggie felt no difference between them. His broken fingers had healed correctly and quickly. Her heart would, too.
“Now that’s in the open, and there’s no more secrets between us, there’s something I want to tell you.” Lucas stepped back and held her hands against his heart. He kissed her knuckles. “Maggie, I—”
“Don’t say it, please. Not yet because”—she stepped back—“I need to tell you something first that might change your mind.”
“I doubt it.” Concern and disappointment filled his face. She hated putting that look there, but she had to tell him now. Before he made a flowery declaration. Because once he said the words, she knew he would stick by the commitment no matter what. She needed to tell him her truth and give him an out before it was too late. For both of them.
“I’m a witch.”
“Although you are bewitching, you aren’t a witch.” He sounded amused by her declaration.
“I am.” She folded her arms across her chest and his gaze drifted down. Making a stand in her bra might not be the best tactical move to get his mental attention.
“Prove it,” he challenged. “Give me my latte.” He cupped his hand, waiting to hold it. He’s humoring me.
“I’m not a genie.”
“Fine. Move that broom.” Maggie frowned. Harper could do it, but not her. But you could if you practiced.
“Not in my current skill set.”
“Well, what can you do?” he asked, sounding impatient. Maggie looked around the room. “Maggie, if you’re not ready to hear it, I can wait. You don’t need—”
“I know.” Maggie swiftly grabbed her damaged shirt and thrust it under his face. “This is the stain, from the hot tea, from the slightly less than boiling water that spilled on me. Look at my arm. Do you see anything?” She stuck her forearm in his face, and he leaned back.
