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“Jack said? He told you I was here?”
“Yes. With your grandparents. And I wanted to see you.”
“Why?” Maggie asked, feeling her grandparents at her back.
“To make sure you were feeling better. That your headache was gone.”
“Maggie doesn’t get headaches,” Grandad whispered to Nanna behind her, followed by a quiet oof as Nanna most likely elbowed him to shush him up.
“It was, but now it’s coming back,” Maggie said.
“Coffee helps with that.” Nanna stepped around Maggie and extended her hand. “I’m Barbara Buchanan, and this is my husband, Three.”
“I’m Lucas Rodriguez, a friend of—”
“Callum’s. He’s a friend of Cal’s. In fact, he’s one of Cal’s roommates,” Maggie said quickly. Lucas looked hurt by her correction. The last thing she needed was for Grandad to think they were friends. He’d been on an active quest to find partners for Harper, Penny, and her. Luckily, they’d evaded most of his attempts and the few blind dates he’d forced on them hadn’t been too terrible. Not terrible, but not repeatable either.
Maggie eyed the beverage carrier. Paper cups, so she knew they were hot beverages, and probably still hot given today’s heat. Extra-large, too. She wondered what he’d ordered. What did he think she might like? And why did he need to see her? She didn’t believe his reason. If he’d wanted to check on her headache, he’d have done it yesterday. He’s up to something other than ruining the last of my cherry tarts and my day.
As if sensing her desire—for a beverage, not for him—Lucas set the carrier down. “I stopped at Brewster’s on my way over. These are for you. I didn’t know what you’d like, so I got a variety.” He glanced at her before gesturing over the to-go cups like a first-day game-show host. “Umm, they’re all lattes, and it looks like a vanilla, raspberry, and miel,” he read as he lifted each from the carrier and set it next to him.
“Maggie likes raspberry anything,” Grandad said, handing her the cup. “I don’t know what miel is—”
“Honey,” Nanna and Lucas said together.
“Honey? Really?” Grandad took the vanilla latte and she and Nanna exchanged glances. Grandad’s dislike of honey was a well-kept family secret. He didn’t like it, but he respected the work the bees did on the ranch, and he liked the small, additional income it brought in, even though it meant traipsing to the farmers’ market.
The raspberry-coffee smell was a direct hit to the pleasure center of Maggie’s brain. And it was still warm. It wasn’t ideal, but it would give her time to enjoy and linger over it. She almost purred as the whipped cream, raspberry, and coffee combination hit her tongue. This was almost as good as selling all her baked goods today. Well, not all, but she couldn’t sell the damaged tarts. Snack? Yes. Sell? No.
She pushed the smashed tarts toward Lucas and Grandad. Nanna wouldn’t eat them. She said food needed to tease the eye first, which was why Maggie was a stickler on making sure her baked goods looked and tasted incredible.
The loudspeakers announced that the market would close in fifteen minutes, and Maggie braced herself for the remaining customers. They were a slow trickle, mostly people who’d stopped earlier but had promised to return. In between last-minute sales, she caught snippets of conversation between Lucas and her grandparents.
“Is your name really Three?” Lucas asked her Grandad, and Maggie smiled inside. She knew Grandad loved telling about the name the first-born men in the family shared. “I’m Callum Murdoch Buchanan the third, but everyone calls me Three. Just like they call Maggie’s dad, Four.”
“So, my roommate is Five?” Lucas asked, sounding intrigued and amused.
“Yes,” Nanna said. “And sometimes he acts like he is, too.” Maggie chuckled with them.
She caught Lucas licking his fingers and Grandad pushed the other mutilated tart to him. Lucas didn’t hesitate. Grandad began to pack up and Lucas moved to help him, but Grandad shooed him away, saying, “It’s not often Barbara gets to talk bees with another beekeeper. I’m fine.” He’s not a beekeeper, Maggie thought as she watched them study a jar of honey. Nanna looked happy. Maggie needed to end this game, whatever this game was that Lucas was playing with them.
Nanna told Lucas more about her beehives, and he seemed to be interested. At one point, it even sounded as if she was asking his opinion about something. And then they talked about her small herd of goats and sheep, which they used to make the feta cheese and soaps. They sold the wool to a local fiber arts craft guild. Nanna then told him about the few rescued animals at the farm and how she was enjoying semi-retirement after selling her large animal veterinary practice.
If Nanna kept this up, she’d be pulling out her phone and sharing photos. Semi-retirement was making her as bad as Grandad when it came to chatting with strangers. Although, at this point, no one could call Lucas a stranger.
Maggie packed the remaining honey jars and soaps in their boxes as Grandad asked Lucas what he’d thought about the cherry tart. Is there a box I can crawl into? I don’t even need air holes. Maggie prayed Lucas didn’t know her grandad used cherry tart as code for my single, eligible, marry-her-now granddaughter.
“Even smashed, it was delicious,” Lucas said.
“Do you think it’s a winner?”
“Sir?”
“Maggie’s been baking several treats each week to see which one sells best. She figures the best seller is her best chance to win the baking contest next month. Although she’s sold out each week, except for the tarts, may they rest in peace,” Grandad said, putting his Thistlestone Ranch ball cap over his heart and sighing dramatically.
“What else have you made, Maggie? I’d be more than willing to sample your wares,” Lucas said, grinning.
Maggie choked on her latte and Nanna pulled Maggie’s arms overhead, a sure-fire family cure to stop coughing. Maggie stood there coughing, sweat beading at her brow, and wearing a T-shirt that made her look like death warmed over and exposed her slight muffin top. Lucas stared at the slight gap between her jeans and the offensive shirt before turning his attention elsewhere.
