The jean shorts allowed him to slip his hands around her firm ass. He gripped the taut globes, listening as her breathy sighs morphed into heated moans. It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, and it was only for him.
“Cal, I’m buzzing,” she said against the shell of his ear.
He unbuttoned the top button on her shirt and ran his tongue along her collarbone. “Me too.”
“No, not like that. I think it’s my phone,” she replied as worry replaced the wantonness in her voice.
“Whoever it is will call if they need something,” he answered as his phone pinged an incoming text.
“Check your phone. It might be important,” she said, concern clouding her gaze.
He picked up his cell from where it rested on the console, and his stomach twisted into a knot at the image on the screen. “Shit,” he bit out, sure that Mabel had received the same message.
“What is it?” she pressed.
His gaze ping-ponged between her worried expression and his phone.
How was he supposed to break this to her? She’d worked so hard.
“It’s from Sally,” he said, glancing at the screen. “And it’s not completely terrible. But it’s also not that great.”
“What do you mean, not that great? Sally was supposed to pick up the farmers’ market passports from the printer this morning. She said it wasn’t a problem. She even put the order in for me. Is she running late?”
He wished it was only that.
“Show it to me, Cal!”
He tried to play it cool. “Let’s head over to the diner, and you can assess the printing error.”
“There’s an error!” she exclaimed.
She scrambled off his lap and rooted through her bag in a frenzy. She pulled out her real passport. And as much as he tried to ignore it, his heart sank at the sight of it. Finally, she found her phone, then stuffed her passport back inside.
She held her cell to her chest. “Tell me one thing before I look for myself. Is it fixable?”
He cringed. “It could be.”
Mabel’s tanned complexion turned dishwater gray. “Cal, I’ve been posting about the farmers’ market passport giveaway a ton over the last couple of days. The comments and responses have been great. People are expecting it.”
He glanced at his phone. He couldn’t lie to her. “Okay, it’s pretty bad.”
“It is?” she stammered, her eyes going wide. “You’re serious?”
“There seems to have been a printing error, and I’m not sure we have enough time to fix it on each passport.” He held out his phone for her to see, and Mabel’s jaw dropped.
“No, this can’t be happening!” she countered.
“What’s done is done,” he offered sheepishly, stealing the line from Mr. Muldowney.
Mabel’s gaze bounced from him, then back to the image on the screen.
“It is kind of funny,” he said gently, but she didn’t respond. The wheels in her head were turning.
She straightened her Eat Elverna cap and pointed to the steering wheel. “Drive, Cal! Hurry! We’ve got to get to the diner!”
Chapter 4
Mabel
Assports?
Mabel stared at the giant stack of papers. At first glance, the Elverna Farmers’ Market Passports printouts were darling. Colorful, with little squares containing the name of each farm stand and vendor in lettering that matched the Eat Elverna logo, people would love it. And more than that, to enter to win Elverna’s first summer subscription box, patrons were required to get a stamp from each booth.
It was a genius idea.
She’d managed to combine acquiring foot traffic with a fun activity. Families could work together. Couples could stroll around and take it all in. Everyone participating would visit each booth. It was a surefire way to guarantee foot traffic—and hopefully, sales. Lots of sales. She needed this day to run like clockwork and adding an avalanche of new paying customers would solidify her success.
But she couldn’t distribute assports.
It was one thing to have a tiny typo here or there—but ASSPORT in bold lettering at the top would not be overlooked.
“There’s a good chance nobody will notice,” Cal offered with a cringe that said, of course, people would notice.
“It says ASSPORTS across the top in big, bold green lettering,” she exclaimed, giving him her best frustrated broody farmer glare.
He shrugged. The man was trying. In fact, she could hardly believe that he wasn’t the one losing his mind over this. This place and the success of the farmers’ market meant everything to him. Was it starting to mean something to her?
The last week and a half had passed in a blur of days spent outdoors in Elverna, seeing and tasting the actual fruits of Jamie’s labors while her nights were spent tangled in Cal’s strong embrace. Just the thought of hearing a pebble tap against her window set her on fire. She’d gone from virgin to vixen overnight and couldn’t get enough of the man who seemed to have made it his life’s goal to make her body tremble with pure animal need.
But she couldn’t allow her mind to go there. She had to focus on the here and now. It wasn’t the time to muse on her feelings for this town—or the man who looked at her as if she made up the entirety of his universe. No, she had to address the crisis at hand. She crossed her arms and stared at the giant stack of assports. Somehow, it looked worse each time her eyes grazed over the word.
If this wasn’t happening to her, it might be funny. But it was happening.
The day her Bella Mae facade came crashing down flashed through her mind. The coffee shop. That smug prick Lucce with two ridiculous Cs and one asshat of an E. And Chelsea, with her crestfallen expression. It was almost too much to bear. In the span of ten minutes, she’d lost everything she’d worked for over the last four years.
But today was different.
Eat Elverna wasn’t only hers. The entire town was involved. If the marketing campaign fell apart, she had nowhere left to run.
Bella Mae had been her dirty little secret—a methodically constructed life for a fictitiously entitled girl. And while she’d be smart to remember that someone out there knew her as both Mabel and Mae and had callously exposed her charade, there was nowhere for her to hide if her plans for promoting the town crashed and burned.
Bella Mae had been for her.
But Eat Elverna wasn’t only for the town. It was also for Jamie.
She couldn’t fail her brother.
And if today flopped, she wouldn’t get paid.
What did that mean for the trajectory of her life? She glanced at Cal. The question grew more complicated each day.
Mabel felt for the M charm—the only part of her that she’d allowed to bleed into her two lives.
The only hint of Mabel visible in Bella Mae.
“Are you furious with me, honey?” Sally asked, heartsick as lines of worry etched across her face.
But Mabel couldn’t be angry at the woman. Sally and her sisters had been good to her over the years. She had to put the woman’s mind at ease.
Mabel squeezed her hand. “No, I’m not angry. It was an accident. We just need to figure out what to do next.”