A handsome guy with a fancy car? A knot twisted in Cal’s stomach.
“I better go find her. There’s some Eat Elverna business I need to discuss with her,” he said, coming to his feet.
Sally sat back in her chair. “I’m sure there is.”
“And let her know to check her bank account,” Margaret added.
“Yeah, I will,” he said, hating to be rude, but he needed to get to her.
He weaved his way through the crowd like a cat on the prowl. He was not a jealous person, but he sure as hell didn’t like the idea of some slimy city prick hitting on Mabel. But that wasn’t the only thing going through his mind. He’d be lying if he said there wasn’t something darker, something more menacing that had him on edge. But he could trust her, right?
They were…
Together?
Well, not officially.
But what they had wasn’t some booty call situation. No way! Not even close. It was the real thing.
He loved her.
He’d loved her his whole life. And he didn’t want to lose her.
Was he getting ahead of himself? Possibly. But he knew better than anyone what the city could do to a person. She’d made it back to Elverna in one piece, and every fiber of his being wanted to keep it that way.
His heart pounding, he dialed up his walk to a light jog, scanning the people strolling down Main Street. He’d almost decided to double-back when he saw her, standing next to a shiny Mercedes-Benz and laughing with another man. Tall with dark hair and an athletic build, the guy wasn’t terrible to look at—maybe someone would consider him handsome. Who was he to know? It wasn’t like he went around assessing the handsomeness of other dudes. Hell no!
“Mabel!” he called, startling her as he sprinted her way.
“Cal! What are you doing here?” she exclaimed, spinning around as her little purse smacked him in the leg.
He steadied himself, then stared the guy down for a good five seconds before turning his attention back to her. “What do you mean, what am I doing here?”
She glanced down the street toward the town square. “I thought you were with your grandmother.”
“She was tired, and your dad and Claudine offered to bring her home.”
“Oh,” she replied.
The nerve! Did she not know that he’d come to her rescue?
He schooled his features. “What’s going on here?”
Mabel pressed her hand to her chest. “Sorry, let me introduce you two. Cal, this is Preston Brockton. He’s from Chicago.”
Cal threw the man the broodiest glare he could manage. “What do you think you’re doing with Mabel?”
“Conversing?” the man replied, looking quite thrown.
Good! He had the jumpy jackass right where he wanted him.
“About what?” he bit out.
The man swallowed hard. “Food,” Preston Brockton answered before throwing Mabel an anxious look. “Is your friend going to hit me?”
“That has everything to do with why you lured Mabel away from the square and over to your car,” Cal growled, answering for Mabel, who shot eye daggers at him.
“Cal!” she exclaimed.
He waved her off. “No, these city people need to know that they can’t roll into town, wolf down our casserole, then act like they’re better than everyone else.”
Confusion bloomed on Preston Brockton’s face. “I don’t quite understand what’s going on here. I assure you. I paid for the casserole. I even left a tip.”
Mabel shook her head as another possibly handsome man joined them.
“Is everything okay?” this new guy asked Preston.
“I think this big farmer might be confused about something,” Preston answered, taking a step back.
“Oh, this big, broody farmer is confused, all right,” Mabel replied, crossing her arms.
“We’re chefs from Chicago. I’m Logan, and this is my husband, Preston,” the new guy said.
His husband? Ah, shit!
Now Cal was the one swallowing hard. “You guys are together?”
“For twelve years,” Logan answered.
Mabel cocked her head to the side and threw one hell of a broody glare. “No one is hitting on me, Cal.”
“I never thought that…” he trailed off. Okay, he totally thought that. Actually, his thoughts were far worse. In his head, he had her in the passenger seat of that Mercedes already halfway to Chicago.
“We were speaking with Mabel about a food bank we partner with in the city. We were wondering if the Eat Elverna co-op wanted to make a donation,” Preston said, taking another step away from him.
He couldn’t blame the guy. He had sprinted over like a madman.
“Preston and Logan also own several Farm to Table restaurants in Chicago and St. Louis and are interested in working with us,” Mabel added, giving him a look that said, stop acting like you’ve lost your damn mind!
“I left our business cards in the car. That’s why I’m here with Mabel,” Preston said as Mabel held up the white rectangle—clearly a business card.
“He’s usually not such a beastly broody farmer,” Mabel teased, then stilled. “Wait, no, he mostly is a beastly broody farmer, but he’s the one behind Elverna’s switch to sustainable farming, so we keep him around.”
“I see,” Preston replied warily.
“We better head out. We’ve got quite a drive back,” Logan said, throwing a glance his way before opening the passenger side door.
Mabel held up the card. “I love your ideas for supporting the food pantry. I’ll share your thoughts with the town council and get back to you. It was a pleasure meeting you both,” she finished, then shook the chefs’ hands. “Thanks for making the drive to Elverna.”
“We look forward to hearing from you,” Preston replied as the men got into their car and headed off down Main Street.
The Mercedes’s lights faded into the distance, and Cal racked his brain, struggling to come up with what to say to make up for busting into her conversation with the chefs.
“Mabel, I…” he began, but she pressed her fingertips to his lips.
“I can’t say that I’m surprised by your behavior,” she said, narrowing her gaze. “I bet you and Jamie didn’t know that I knew how you guys used to terrorize any boy who looked my way.”
Shit! She knew about that?
He shrugged. “Terrorized might be an exaggeration.”
“Here’s what’s not an exaggeration,” she parried back with that mischievous twinkle in her eye. “You, Callan Horner, were jealous.”
He waved her off. “I was not jealous.”
“So that vein popping out on your forehead is your happy-go-lucky vein?” she countered.
He rubbed his hand across his forehead. “I have veins popping out of my head?”
She laughed, and it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. “You can atone for your deranged behavior by buying me a single scoop at the Five and Dime. As of this moment, you are one loaded farmer. Remember, I’ve seen what’s inside your cash box.”
“You’re loaded, too,” he said, recalling Margaret’s request.
She frowned. “What do you mean?”