Page 20 of Horn of Plenty
She wanted this. She wanted today to be the start of something big for Elverna…and perhaps herself. Could she have the best of both worlds? Would it be possible to whet her appetite for travel and fashion while making a life here? It had never seemed like a choice until this very moment.
Cal glanced over the stack of papers. “I recognize that guy. I think that he lives a few towns over now. If I remember right, his family used to farm in Elverna. He’s the man in the blue shirt wearing a whistle around his neck. It looks like he’s one of the coaches.”
Mabel tapped her hands on the steering wheel. “See, it’s a sign!”
Cal chuckled. “You sound like the old Young sisters.”
Excitement coursed through her veins. “They’re usually right, aren’t they?”
He stilled. “Come to think of it, yes, they usually are.”
She surveyed the scene. “We’ll walk over to that coach you know, explain the situation, then ask if he’ll lend us the kids for a few minutes.” She pointed to a throng of children sprinting from home plate over to first base. “Look at them run! They’re like little balls of energy. We need them to knock out a bunch ofPs. That’s not so weird, is it?”
Cal cringed. “I’m not going to lie, Mabel. It is a little weird.”
“But worth a shot?” she parried back.
She gazed into his stormy blue eyes. They’d been at each other for so many years. She’d do something to deliberately annoy him, and he’d ignore her. But now, on the same side and working together, she couldn’t deny that she’d never been happier. She’d dreamed of having this man want and need her. And here they were, again at another crossroads. The question was, did he have faith in her?
“Well?” she asked, her heart hammering in her chest.
“Can you get the door for me? These assports weigh a ton,” he said, keeping his tone even, but the glint in his eyes gave away his measured expression.
She grabbed the can of pens and grinned from ear to ear. He was all in.
She wanted to knock the assports off his lap, wrap her arms around his neck and kiss her broody farmer until the cows came home—which they actually did around six thirty each day. But they didn’t have a second to waste. Instead, she jumped out of the car, ran to his side, and swung open the door. They started toward the field, and she glanced at her watch. They had little more than half an hour.
“Be careful, Cal! Don’t drop any of the assports!” she warned.
He gave her that look.
She rolled her eyes at her farmer. “You’re a manly man with those big strong hands of yours. But I want you to be extra vigilant.”
“When am I not vigilant?” he shot back with a wink.
He had a point. With his lists, charts, spreadsheets, and that whiteboard that looked as if he had all the makings of a methodical serial killer, whatever way you sliced it, the man was a practitioner of efficiency and vigilance.
“That’s true,” she conceded. “You are maddeningly regimented and detail-oriented.”
“You didn’t seem to mind my attention to detail last night,” he said, lowering his voice.
A tingle ran down her spine and settled below her belly.
Stop! No sexytimes thoughts until after the assports become passports!
She shook her head, working to get the image of Cal twisting her hair in his hands as he took her from behind out of her head.
“Assports, Cal! We need to focus on the ass!” she chided when the man in the blue, with what she could now see was the wordCougarswritten in bold lettering across his shirt, glanced up from his clipboard, and frowned.
Holy coincidences! This team must be the Cougars!
“Hey, watch the language! We’ve got children everywhere,” he barked.
“Mabel, let me talk,” Cal whispered, but she brushed him off.
“No, I’ve got this.” She waved to the man. “Sir, we need your children,” she blurted and quickly realized that was probably not the smartest thing to say.
“You need our children?” he repeated, his frown deepening.
