Page 127 of Always Meant for You
“It is. Mabel stopped by early to check the market prep.”
The air thickens between us.
He nods slowly. “Then she decided to take a picture of you half naked with cats. I saw the photo online.”
God help me.
I don’t think there’s any way in hell I can explainfarm pornto Elias, let alone speak those words.
“That’s correct.” I shift my stance. “She noticed those kinds of posts were getting more traction. She thought we should lean into what’s working.”
“And there’s one with her in it too,” he says, eyeing her phone again.
I swallow hard, wishing I knew the exact location of Mr. Muldowney’s shotgun.
“I wasn’t sure she’d post that one, but yes, we took a picture for fun.”
He studies me, and the longer he doesn’t respond, the more the pressure builds.
“She’s good at this, Mr. Muldowney,” I say, filling the void. “The posts. The strategy. She knows what people want. She’s doing what she said she’d do. She’s telling Elverna’s story. It seems to be working.”
“That Kathy woman online seems impressed.” There’s a thread of dry humor in his voice.
I cringe, feeling my cheeks heat. “She’s enthusiastic.”
He doesn’t nod. Doesn’t smile. “I fed your cats. They were getting restless, and I put a scoop of kibble in Duke’s bowl.” He picks up Mabel’s phone. “I’ll get this back to my daughter.”
He walks toward the door.
I follow. “I’ll walk you out.”
Once we reach the porch, he stops, turns halfway, and fixes me with a look. “You all right, Cal? You seem a bit disheveled.”
“I’m good . . . I’msheveled. Assheveledas they come.”
Christ.
I shake my head. “I’m fine. There’s just a lot to think through today.”
He doesn’t press.
Mabel’s voice cuts through the morning air. “Cal?”
She rounds the corner, then looks from me to her father. At the sight of her, my chest tightens. She’s radiant and wearing the outfit she described. Sunlight flashes against the edge of her boots. Those must be the ones that belonged to her mother. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail, and the rose gold M charm rests at her throat.
I zero in on the white frilly fabric around her neckline. “Good morning, Mabel. I see you’ve got aneckline flounceon your shirt,” I say, recalling she mentioned it the other day on a ruffly number she was wearing.
I’m trying to sound composed, but from Mabel’s perplexed expression, I can tell I’m failing.
She touches the white detail. “Actually, Cal, this is more of a ruffled trim.”
Elias looks between us. His brows knit together. I might as well hang a neon sign that says I’m sleeping with your daughter. Please refrain from shooting me.
I clear my throat. “Mabel’s been telling me about her clothes. While wearing them, of course. Usually in my truck, where she keeps her clothes on.”
Sweet Christ, what is coming out of my mouth?
“I must’ve missed you this morning, Mabel Ruth,” Elias says evenly, ignoring my verbal spiral. “I think you forgot this at Cal’s place. I found it in the cottage.”
