Page 76 of Always Meant for You
The wind picks up.
I can smell the rain in the air as well as the bullshit she’s trying to pull.
“No, Mabel. You work for the town. I sit on the council. Which means, by default, you answer to me.”
She doesn’t flinch. “I’m here to complete a contract. You’re my assigned liaison. Which makes you, technically, my assistant.”
And then she does it, that subtle flick of her wrist, cool and controlled.
A crack of lightning splits the sky. Thunder follows a breath behind, rumbling low and close.
“I may be a lot of things, Mabel Ruth Muldowney,” I say, voice tight, “but your assistant isn’t one of them.”
She holds steady. “That so?”
“Damn right.”
Her chin lifts. Wind catches her hair, sending it whipping across her face.
She glances toward the quarry, towards the tree. “You’re a broody farmer with control issues,” she says, stepping closer. “And whether you like it or not, this town needs me.”
It’s like that tree and everything it represents is pouring gasoline on this fight.
“You think I’m a broody farmer?” I growl.
Lightning flares, outlining her face.
She jabs a finger into my chest. “You heard me. And don’t look so shocked. You’ve been broody and glowering since I stepped off the bus. In fact, you’ve been broody and glowering for more than a decade.”
“You truly believe we need you more than you need us?” I ask, so damn irritated I could spit nails.
“I do,” she replies.
I move in closer. “I think you need us as much as we need you. I think you need the money. I think you came back to Elverna with your tail between your legs, hoping nobody would know you returned.”
“You’ve got some nerve making up assumptions like that, Cal,” she bites back.
I reach for her. I can’t stop myself. One hand at her elbow. The other at her waist. She’s trembling, but she doesn’t back away. Her palms find my chest, curling into the fabric like she’s anchoring herself to me.
The wind gusts harder. Thunder growls.
I tighten my hold on her. “You need me, Mabel. You need me a hell of a lot more than I need you.” I cup her face in my hands. My thumb grazes the corner of her mouth.
“Liar,” she says, holding her ground. “You know you need me more.”
I don’t know what we’re fighting about. The town or what happened between us.
Another bolt splits the sky. The air hums, the earth pausing, thirsty for the downpour about to come, begging for relief.
That same pressure coils in my chest.
I grit my teeth. “Why do you always push me?”
“Why do you let me?” She breathes the words instead of speaking, and my restraint wavers.
“Mabel, you make me so goddamned crazy all I want to do is kiss you to get you to shut up.”
“Then do it. I dare you.” Her voice carries over the whipping wind.
