Page 2 of Horn of Plenty
She entered the space and inhaled. “It smells heavenly.”
“It’s you, Mabel,” he said, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.
She wanted to melt into his touch, but she couldn’t. “What’s me?” she questioned, doing her best to put a sharp edge on her words, but Cal seemed unbothered by her tone.
He took her hand and led her down the center row. “This scent—lavender and a touch of honey. I could never get it out of my head.”
“My lotion?” she questioned, surprised the man had noticed.
He grinned. “I wondered if that’s what it was. Now, close your eyes.”
“Cal!” she protested.
“Please, Mabel, do this for me. Don’t fight me on this,” he whispered against the shell of her ear as the scented air grew electric and her body thrummed. It was too easy to get lost in this man.
“Fine,” she answered, closing her eyes as she listened to his footsteps trail off. She could not let her guard down. She doubled her resolve. “You better not have dragged my ass out a window to leave me here standing alone in the dark.”
He wouldn’t go to all the trouble, would he?
She felt him come up behind her—felt his energy, his presence.
“Open your eyes, Mabel,” he said, his voice taking on that gravelly rumble that drove her crazy as he slid his hands around her waist.
She swallowed hard, blinked open her eyes, then gasped.
Twinkling white lights hung from the rafters, casting the expanse of green and violet in an ethereal glow. She half-expected pixies to rise from the fragrant plants. The scene was something out of a fairy tale.
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she said, awe coating her words as she turned in his arms to face him.
“I want your first time to be special,” he said with the sweetest twist to his lips.
A wild sense of euphoria washed over her. He did want her.
“Oh,” she breathed, butterflies taking flight in her belly. She took in the twinkling lights, then she spied something on the far side of the enclosure. “Is that a bed?”
“It’s my futon cushion. I didn’t have that much time to throw this together,” he answered, his cheeks growing pink.
She couldn’t let him think that this was anything less than the most romantic gesture anyone had ever done for her. She pushed up onto her tiptoes and cupped his face in her hands. “Cal, it’s perfect. It’s more than perfect.”
He rested his forehead to hers. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings in the field. I just wanted to do more for you, Mabel. I’ve always wanted to do more. It’s what drives me forward each day. It’s my purpose.”
His purpose?
That didn’t make any sense.
“Cal, I—” she began, but he pressed his fingertips to her lips.
“Mabel, I want to kiss you, and once I start, I don’t want to stop,” he continued, his words breaking down her every defense.
For a broody farmer, he could sure dish out the sweet talk when he wanted to, and she knew what she had to do.
Gently, she left his embrace, then walked down the row, brushing her fingers along the lavender until she arrived at the makeshift bed, piled with pillows and blankets. She turned and met his gaze, then, one by one, she unbuttoned her Chanel denim dress. As he looked on, she allowed the garment to fall to the ground and pool at her feet. Cal drank her in, his gaze darkening as he stripped off his flannel and T-shirt before kicking out of his jeans and peeling off his boxer briefs. And sweet baby Jesus, this man was a work of art.
Strong, broad shoulders.
Chiseled abs.
Forearms that could make a woman weep.
