Page 96 of Falling Back to You

Chapter thirty-one

Noelle

A thousand eyes skewered me in place.

I’m going to be sick. I shot metaphorical darts at Mrs. Gulliver. The woman had it out for me. But her wrinkled face, caked with too much bronzer and her reddish-orange lips, only grinned wider when her piercing gaze landed on me. Like a monarch bestowing an honour to a plebeian.

Really, it was a prison sentence.

Or Brutus giving the final blow to Julius Caesar.

Me. Head up the Harvest Potluck. Ha.

“It’s a good way for her to give back to our community,” Mrs. Gulliver continued. “Now a few words before I hand things over to our dear mayor. For the Fall Festival . . .”

The ringing in my ears drowned out the rest of her words.

Cal nudged me. “You okay?”

“Was I just given community service?” I hissed. This had to be a joke. “As a way to bribe my way back into the town’s good graces? What crime exactly did I commit?”

Paisley snorted. “Likely none. Mrs. Gulliver gets ticket happy.”

“I know nothing about party planning.”

Cal chuckled, adjusting Khia on his shoulders.

“What are you laughing about? This isn’t funny!”

“Elle, you’ve never had a problem telling people what to do.” He winked.

Was he . . . flirting? Nope, nope, nope. I straightened my spine. “I’d rather not get raked over the coals because I failed.”

His expression softened. “Shawna usually does the planning because she’s also bossy and likes to order people around. She’d probably be willing to help.”

I nodded absently, tired just thinking about it as my mind whirled with plans and ideas. Rosie Cotton’s wet nose bumped my hand, and I stroked her head. How am I supposed to do this? Maybe if— Stop spiraling. Focus on Mrs. Gulliver.

Cal, however, wasn’t interested in the mayor’s wife’s monologuing. In an undertone, he said, “I have fifty bucks on Brett winning the pie-eating contest.”

Greyson huffed softly. “You’re going down. It’ll be Shane.”

Paisley wrinkled her nose. “This is worse than Legolas and Gimli’s drinking contest.”

Greyson chuckled and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Love, have you seen Shane eat? He is Legolas when it comes to pie.”

My heart twinged watching their banter. They were cute together.

Finally, the announcements were over—they weren’t really necessary in the first place—things hadn’t changed for the Harvest Parade in thirty years.

“Daddy, they have fluffy cows!” Khia shrieked, kicking her red rain boots against his shoulders. “Can I have one? She can sleep in my room.”

Cal grunted, gripping her ankles, but he smiled indulgently. “Then there won’t be any room for you.”

She giggled. “That would be silly.”

“What’s silly is that your daddy thinks Uncle Brett will win,” Greyson cut in, reaching up and tweaking her nose.

“Nuh-uh, Uncle Myles!” Myles wasn’t even competing, but at least she had her uncle priorities straight.