Page 38 of Fumbling for Affection

Be bad, the devil ordered before going up in flames.

Maggie sat on the couch next to him, their thighs lightly touching. “Let me see your hand,” she said, reaching for it and then carefully holding it in her left hand. His meaty paw dwarfed hers. He wanted to assure her it looked worse than it was, but he’d be lying. He couldn’t make a fist or put weight on it. A smart player would have had a trainer look at it, but today he wasn’t a smart player. Today he was a man on edge with little patience, feeling reckless enough to push the status quo on their relationship.

Her fingers slowly brushed over the bruised skin, as if memorizing it. She closed her eyes and did it again, but her fingers stopped in the most sensitive areas. As if she felt his pain. And each time she did, she pressed gently until his flesh warmed and then she moved to the next spot. When she was done, she laid his hand on this thigh and opened a small tin.

It looked like Vaseline, but it didn’t have the same oily smell. It was floral and minty, but earthy and pungent. She rubbed the ointment in from the tips of his fingers past his wrist. The back of his hand. His palm. Rotating his hand between hers as she did. Maggie closed her eyes and blew on his knuckles. One long, slow, exhale that burned through him.

“Movie time?” she asked, looking up at him through her lashes.

He swallowed and flexed his left hand, resting it on his lap. It already felt better. “Sounds great,” he said, handing her the remote and clearing his throat. “Lady’s choice.” Maggie scrolled through the options, and they settled on a restaurant make-over show. Lucas didn’t share that he’d already seen the episode and was well into the next season. He was watching for educational purposes only.

If he thought it was also research, the guilt kicked him in the gut. His dad blew him off each time he asked for an update with the Brewster’s purchase. Lucas didn’t know if it was happening or not. He should tell Maggie, but she hadn’t said Brewster’s was the business she wanted. But you’d have to be blind, deaf, and dumb, not to know it, he thought, as the guilt settled in.

He tuned back into the show, but it was hard with Maggie leaning into him, her head inches away from his shoulder. She stared at the cat, who stared back at him, before hopping down from his perch. He meowed once—sounding more like a bark—before jumping into Lucas’s lap and sinking his teeth into his good hand.

“Damn!” Lucas cried, jerking his hand away. The demon cat ran away, and Lucas found his arm draped on the back of the couch with Maggie against him. “Sorry,” he said, setting his hand on her shoulder. She settled into the cocoon of his big body. Good, this is good, he thought, forcing himself to pay attention to the kitchen demolition.

The glow from Maggie’s phone caught his attention. “Bored? We can change it to something else. I don’t care.”

She looked at him and then back at her phone. “I was just checking the urban dictionary definition of Netflix and chill, to make sure, I, um, used it correctly.” She bit her lower lip and looked up at him. “It looks like I did.”

Green light. Go! The devil ordered as the angel hovered behind him.

Fine, the angel huffed, before the devil spirited them away. It was bad enough having the cat as an audience member. He also didn’t need those two. Thanks to being patient and cooling his heels for weeks, he had plenty of ideas of his own. He didn’t need the devil’s advice or the angel’s censure.

He pulled her phone closer to his face. “Let me see. Language arts wasn’t my strongest subject and sometimes I can be slow on the uptake.”

“Less than ideal for a professional football player, I’d imagine,” she teased, and he heard the nervousness in her voice. “What was your strongest subject?” she asked when he continued to stare at her. Get it together, he ordered himself, feeling more awed with her than ever before. This woman, the one actively pushing their status quo, deserved his A-game, not the embarrassing, piss-poor version he’d given her so far that night.

“Shop,” he said, breathing in her scent. She smelled like a field of wildflowers on a warm sunny day mixed with lasagna and the faint whisper of sugar and coffee that clung to her skin.

“Shop?” She leaned in, staring at this mouth.

“Shop, ’cause I’m good with my hands.” Maggie’s lips pursed, and her shoulders shook before her laughter filled the air. Lucas dropped his head to his chest and joined in.

“That was the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard,” Maggie said, swiping under her eyes and trying to catch her breath. She’d missed a few happy tears and Lucas gently wiped them with his thumbs, letting his hands cradle her head when he was done. He dropped his forehead to hers.

“I can’t think when you’re around. You fry all my brain cells,” he confessed. He’d been thinking about her, about kissing her and more, when Oregon had stomped on his hand. If he’d paid more attention, he could have avoided it. Oregon led the league in false starts this season. Lucas knew better than to zone out on the field.

Maggie smiled, her caramel eyes darkening. “I think I like that,” she whispered, as she brushed her lips against his. Again and again. Each time lingering longer. His injured hand fisted in her curls, holding her in place but letting her set the pace. Now that she was kissing him, he didn’t want it to stop. Ever.

He wasn’t a saint, which is why the devil’s appearance hadn’t shocked him. Lucas was used to women throwing themselves at him, and until this season, he’d never missed one of their plays. His better-than-average face and top one percent income paycheck garnered attention. And he’d like it. A lot. But it was nothing compared to having this heavenly woman, who teased and encouraged him, kiss him like none of that mattered. Like she didn’t care about his paycheck or that his family only wanted him for it. She cared about him, Lucas Rodriguez, and she was the most powerful aphrodisiac he’d ever tasted.

Chapter 19

“This is a treat,” Four said as Maggie and her mom walked into his office.

“No, this is the treat,” Maggie said, setting the coffee carrier on his desk and opening her cupcake carrier with a flourish. “Ta-da!”

“Oh, sweetie, these look wonderful.” Alison grabbed a cupcake with white frosting and tsked when her dad chose a purple one.

“What?” he asked, peeling away the paper wrapper.

“Your teeth will stain.”

He chuckled at her shiver of disgust. “I’m almost done for the day, and I don’t have any more appointments. My staff won’t care, and customers won’t see me over the phone.” He leaned back in his office chair and Maggie tried not to fidget as she sat opposite him, sipping her tea. She would have preferred coffee, but she was already jittery, and ever since Lucas’s confession about not liking coffee, she’d made it a point to try each of the teas Brewster’s offered.

“So, kiddo, what’s this about? I’m sure you didn’t come here to compliment me on the agency’s Halloween decorations.” He smirked.

---