She shook her head, working to get the image of Cal twisting her hair in his hands as he took her from behind out of her head.
“Assports, Cal! We need to focus on the ass!” she chided when the man in the blue, with what she could now see was the word Cougars written in bold lettering across his shirt, glanced up from his clipboard, and frowned.
Holy coincidences! This team must be the Cougars!
“Hey, watch the language! We’ve got children everywhere,” he barked.
“Mabel, let me talk,” Cal whispered, but she brushed him off.
“No, I’ve got this.” She waved to the man. “Sir, we need your children,” she blurted and quickly realized that was probably not the smartest thing to say.
“You need our children?” he repeated, his frown deepening.
“Mabel,” Cal whisper-shouted, but she wasn’t done yet.
She had to be direct. “We need some help with Ps and would appreciate your assistance.”
The man looked ready to call the cops. “Pee, like urine? The port-a-potties are on the other side of the park.”
She released a laugh that sounded part hyena and part pubescent teenager. “No, of course, I’m not talking about urine. We simply require a little child labor. It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”
Oh no! She needed to stop talking.
Cal stepped forward, shoved the stack under one arm, and shook the man’s hand. “I’m Cal Horner, and this is Mabel Muldowney. You’re Shaun, right? Didn’t your family used to own the Haystead farm down rural route twenty-six?”
She glanced over at her quite diplomatic and not-at-all broody farmer. Maybe his approach was better.
“Yeah, that’s me,” the coach replied, then gestured toward her. “Is she okay?”
Cal flashed her a look that said, don’t say another word.
She plastered on a grin that seemed to appease him.
Cal nodded, adjusting the assports. “Yes, she’s fine. We’re in a jam and could use some help from the community.”
The coach cocked his head to the side. “You two are with Eat Elverna, aren’t you? I recognize you from the computer. My wife follows you on social media.”
Mabel was ready to break out into cartwheels.
This was great! If he was familiar with them, he’d totally be on board to help. She wanted to hug this Cougar coach and press a giant kiss to his cheek, but that would only fuel his fears that she was indeed a lunatic.
“We’re heading up the Eat Elverna initiative,” she exclaimed instead, forgetting that her job was to keep quiet and definitely not request child labor or anything that had to do with urine.
Cal flashed her a look that said exactly that, and she pasted her mouth closed.
Her broody farmer slipped a sheet off the top and handed it to the coach. “You see, Shaun, we’ve got our first Saturday farmers’ market starting in less than a half-hour. We’re doing a passport promotion activity, and there was a printing error that we could use some help fixing.”
The man surveyed the piece of paper and winced. “Now I understand the whole P thing, but I’m not sure I can—” he replied when a woman shrieked.
“It’s him! Kathy, it’s him!”
At the mention of the name Kathy, Cal’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He wasn’t wrong to be concerned. Armed with travel-sized coffee mugs, shirts with Cougars emblazoned across the front, and sensible haircuts, a gaggle of women charged toward them. And the one leading the pack looked a heck of a lot like CougarMomKathy4456’s profile picture.
“You know this guy, Kath?” Shaun asked as Kathy and her band of minivan mavens devoured Cal with their eyes as if he were the special of the day.
“Know him!” the woman cooed as she stroked Cal’s arm. “This is Farmer Cal, honey. He loves his little kitties and that sweet baby goat. Remember, I showed you those pictures, and then we…” She raised her eyebrows.
Mabel shot Cal a glance that said, oh-la-la.
Yep, this was the cougar mom who’d commented on their social media sites and double-yep on it being a good call to make Cal the subject of pure unadulterated farm porn!
Shaun gave Cal the once-over. “I didn’t recognize you without the cats.”
“And he’s usually not wearing a shirt. Those are my favorites!” another mom chimed.
“We prefer those pictures, don’t we, ladies?” a Cougar mom swooned as the women nodded.
Mabel bit back a grin as Cal looked positively taken for a loop.
But she couldn’t help the rush of relief that washed over her. The universe had thrown them a bone, and Cal’s farm porn fan club was about to save the day.
God bless the internet!
Mabel waved for the group to come closer. “Ladies, we’re in a bit of a bind. And if you could help us out, I’m sure Cal would be happy to take a picture with you.”
The women shrieked with excitement as Cal’s head whipped toward her.
“I will?” he asked, throwing a side-glance at the salivating assembly of horny homemakers.
She checked her watch. “Yes, you absolutely positively would be delighted to take a photo in exchange for assistance with our passport situation.”
“Anything for Cal! What do you need?” Kathy offered.
Mabel handed the woman the canister of pens and an assport. “If you could get your kids to add the letter P to the top of the paper, that would mean the world to us.”
Another Cougar mom stepped forward and glanced at the sheet. “I RSVP’d for this! It’s the Eat Elverna passport contest, right?”
“Yes, and it starts soon. And, as you can see, we need a lot of Ps.”
The Cougar moms huddled and began speaking in hushed tones. They were either strategizing about how to organize the children or planning a way to kidnap Cal. From the way the women kept glancing at her befuddled broody farmer, it could have gone either way.
“Mabel,” he whispered like a man being offered up as a human sacrifice.
She shushed him. “It’s in the hands of the Cougars now. Smile pretty!”
With a clap and a round of high fives, Kathy turned to them. “We’ll do it!”
“Come on, Cougar moms, let’s go, go, go!” another woman exclaimed.
The mothers dispersed. Women on a mission, they headed toward the kids as Kathy removed the whistle hanging from around her husband’s neck. She sucked in an audible breath, then blew into that poor piece of metal like she needed to dislodge a piece of chewing gum from its cavity. The shrill sound pierced the air, and the children froze.
“Everyone to the bleachers! We’re going to practice writing the letter P before this game starts! If you want to play today, you’ll have to P first,” she ordered, then turned to Cal and drank him in again before weaving her arm in with his. “And you’re coming with me, handsome,” she added, leading Cal toward the mass of children.
It was a sight to see. Sports moms were a breed unto their own. Within seconds, the children were at it, correcting assport after assport. Mabel pressed her hand to her lips to suppress a grin as the cougars closed in on her broody—and now quite uncomfortable—farmer. He caught her gaze and mouthed, “help.”
“He’ll be okay, won’t he?” she asked Shaun.