Page 174 of Always Meant for You
“Careful,” I murmur, breathless. “My father could walk in with the governor at any second.”
He grins. “Worth it. Do you know how hard it is keeping my hands off you?”
“How hard?”
His gaze darkens. “Hard enough I’ve had to clench my fists in my pockets all damn day to keep from dragging you into the nearest empty room and showing you exactly what you do to me.”
He presses a kiss below my earlobe. “Do you know how beautiful you look in that dress?”
I’m in a vintage Chloé dress from the nineties. Pink silk, smocked at the waist, with yellow-orange florals that catch the light every time I move. The neckline dips, not too much, but enough to feel like a whisper against my collarbone. And I know Cal’s thinking about undoing the long line of its front buttons.
But we’ll save that for later.
We’re still keeping our relationship to ourselves. The focus needs to stay on the town, on the co-op, and the future of Eat Elverna. That’s the plan. And it makes sense. But I’m not sure how much longer I can hold out. It’s hard to play it cool when Cal looks at me like he’s already imagined every way he’s going to undress me the second we’re alone.
I brush my fingers along his cheek. “We should get the tea.”
“I don’t want to, but you’re right,” he says, stepping back, though his eyes still glint with lust.
“You think the visit’s going well?” I ask, reaching into the fridge for the pitcher. The chill in the air barely touches the heat blooming under my skin.
He shifts his weight against the cabinet, arms folded, gaze fixed on me. “You had the governor hooked from the first stop. His staff couldn’t scribble fast enough. It was like you were laying out the blueprint for farming’s next chapter—and making it look easy. That wasn’t a pitch. That was a masterclass.”
“You weren’t so bad yourself,” I say, the pitcher in hand. “Your line about integrating compost heat systems into the winter greenhouse rotation had everyone nodding like it was gospel.”
I gesture toward the counter. “Will you grab that tray with the glasses?”
“I need to grab something else first.” Cal wraps an arm around my waist and presses a kiss to the top of my head. “You were made for this, Mabel.”
“We were made for this,” I reply, grounding the moment. “Together.”
His gaze softens. “Always.”
“You’re the farm porn, and I’m . . .” I trail off.
Cal picks up the tray. “You, Mabel Muldowney, are the heart. Same as Jamie. He’d be proud. I know I am.”
My hand moves to the M charm resting at my collar. I hold it there. The memory of my brother threads through the present and through Cal’s words.
Cal’s watching me. When I meet his gaze, his smile takes my breath away. There’s no question about it. He sees me, and he loves me.
“You keep getting more beautiful,” he says. “Or maybe this is what happens when you’re loved—when you know it’s safe to let someone see all of you.”
My God, this man.
“I still can’t get over you being a closet romantic, Callan Horner,” I say, ready to melt into a pool of swoon.
He leans in, and I rise to meet him, balancing the pitcher between us. Our mouths meet in a breath-stealing kiss.
Before I can sink into it, Duke charges through the back door. The Great Pyrenees bounds into the kitchen, bright-eyed and focused, his tail sweeping back and forth.
“Are they coming back, buddy?” Cal asks, eyeing the pup.
I get the ice bucket from the freezer and set it on Cal’s tray. “Is he the lookout?”
Cal grins. “The best lookout there is.”
He turns back to me, more serious now. “Mabel?”
