Page 29 of Horn of Plenty
“We were speaking with Mabel about a food bank we partner with in the city. We were wondering if the Eat Elverna co-op wanted to make a donation,” Preston said, taking another step away from him.
He couldn’t blame the guy. He had sprinted over like a madman.
“Preston and Logan also own several Farm to Table restaurants in Chicago and St. Louis and are interested in working with us,” Mabel added, giving him a look that said, stop acting like you’ve lost your damn mind!
“I left our business cards in the car. That’s why I’m here with Mabel,” Preston said as Mabel held up the white rectangle—clearly a business card.
“He’s usually not such a beastly broody farmer,” Mabel teased, then stilled. “Wait, no, he mostly is a beastly broody farmer, but he’s the one behind Elverna’s switch to sustainable farming, so we keep him around.”
“I see,” Preston replied warily.
“We better head out. We’ve got quite a drive back,” Logan said, throwing a glance his way before opening the passenger side door.
Mabel held up the card. “I love your ideas for supporting the food pantry. I’ll share your thoughts with the town council and get back to you. It was a pleasure meeting you both,” she finished, then shook the chefs’ hands. “Thanks for making the drive to Elverna.”
“We look forward to hearing from you,” Preston replied as the men got into their car and headed off down Main Street.
The Mercedes’s lights faded into the distance, and Cal racked his brain, struggling to come up with what to say to make up for busting into her conversation with the chefs.
“Mabel, I…” he began, but she pressed her fingertips to his lips.
“I can’t say that I’m surprised by your behavior,” she said, narrowing her gaze. “I bet you and Jamie didn’t know that I knew how you guys used to terrorize any boy who looked my way.”
Shit! She knew about that?
He shrugged. “Terrorized might be an exaggeration.”
“Here’s what’s not an exaggeration,” she parried back with that mischievous twinkle in her eye. “You, Callan Horner, were jealous.”
He waved her off. “I was not jealous.”
“So that vein popping out on your forehead is your happy-go-lucky vein?” she countered.
He rubbed his hand across his forehead. “I have veins popping out of my head?”
She laughed, and it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. “You can atone for your deranged behavior by buying me a single scoop at the Five and Dime. As of this moment, you are one loaded farmer. Remember, I’ve seen what’s inside your cash box.”
“You’re loaded, too,” he said, recalling Margaret’s request.
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Margaret wanted me to tell you that she transferred your first payment into your account. She did it from her phone, which surprised the hell out of me. She must have your banking information.”
“She asked me for it last week.” Mabel slipped her cell out of her pocket as they strolled toward the Five and Dime. The light from the screen illuminated her face. “Wow, it’s all there. Five thousand dollars,” she breathed, staring at the screen.
He wanted to be happy for her, but a twist of trepidation tightened in his chest. Why did this make him so nervous? It wasn’t like he wanted her to be penniless, and she’d clearly earned her compensation. It had to be the encounter with the chefs. That had thrown him. He hadn’t expected it, and he did have his own baggage when it came to the city. He ignored the pang in his chest and focused on Mabel and her accomplishment. “You did it. You beat everyone’s expectations by a mile,” he said as they approached the window the shop used to sell ice cream after the store had closed.
She stared up at him. “We did it, Cal. You, me, and the entire town.”
Right there, in the middle of Main Street, his worries melted away. It was as if everything disappeared, and only the two of them existed. He wanted to kiss her—to take her into his arms and never let go. He gazed into the eyes of the woman who held his heart in her hands.
“What’ll it be?” a teenage girl called from the opening, bringing him back to reality.
Mabel leaned her elbows on the counter and peered at the tubs of ice cream. “He’ll have a scoop of Rocky Road, and I’ll have whatever your newest flavor is.”
Going all broody, he raised an eyebrow. “How do you know I still like Rocky Road?”
She mirrored his expression. “Do you?”
