Page 125 of Always Meant for You
Her brows knit together. “What is it?”
“What are you wearing to the farmers’ market?” I ask.
She lights up. “Guess.”
“Chloé?”
She beams. “You’re getting good at this. Yes, all Chloé. I’m wearing the cutest milk-cream colored skirt with silk lace trim.”
I kiss the tip of her nose. “You know how I feel about you in lace.”
Mischief glints in her eyes. “I do.”
“And on top?”
“An adorable vintage sleeveless top in navy with a neckline detail.”
“And your Dior heels?” I guess. I’m usually right.
“Not today.”
“No?” I ask, surprised.
“Today I’m going in a different direction with my shoes. I’m wearing boots,” she says, a shyness to her reply.
“Boots?”
She nods. “My mother’s Lucchese boots from the nineties. One could call them Texas footwear couture. My dad bought them for her.”
“Really?”
Her cheeks grow the most captivating shade of pink. “I think there might be a little more to Elias Muldowney than either of us knows.”
I nod, then lift her chin with both hands. I hold her there, gazing at her.
“Cal?” she asks, voice low. “What are you doing?”
“Taking a picture in my mind.”
Her blush deepens. “Who would have known that Cal Horner is a romantic?”
“Only for you.” I kiss her, slow and steady. Her arms loop around my neck, her fingers curling in the hair at the nape of my neck.
I love this woman.
And I want to tell her, but I don’t want to push too hard, too soon.
We’re finding a way—our way.
“You should go,” I whisper, pulling back. “It’s getting late.”
She starts to climb, her hands catching the familiar holds in the lattice. Before slipping through the window, she looks over her shoulder. “We’ve got this, Cal.”
“We do,” I say, and I mean it. After years of keeping my guard up, I’m ready to stop holding hope at arm’s length.
Mabel blows me a kiss and disappears through the window. I stay where I am, watching the curtain settle back into place, already counting the minutes until I see her again.
“Cal?”
