The Girl from Summer Hill (14 page)

When Tate showed up with Gizzy and Jack, Casey knew she shouldn't be surprised, but she was. He stood there looking at her, his eyes a bit sad.

“If you don't want me here I'll leave,” he said. “But Kit called and said you might need a couple of men, so here I am.”

“Tate got us a bigger truck.” Gizzy was encouraging.

The three of them were lined up and staring at Casey in a way that made her feel like the Bad Parent. “Cut it out!” she said. “All three of you! I'm sure it's too much to hope that any of you have eaten. No? I thought not. Get the coolers.”

Grinning, Gizzy and Jack went toward the Big House. “I told you she'd have breakfast for us,” Gizzy said. “Food surrounds Casey like mosquitoes in a swamp.”

Tate stayed where he was, watching her. “I'm serious. If you can't stand a day around me, I'll go. Jack is quite capable of doing whatever you need.”

She turned to face him. “Did you get a peacock out of my house?”

“Yes.” There was a bit of a smile on his face.

“Why didn't you say so?”

“I felt bad about the pie, and it was kind of nice to be thought of as a villain. Always playing the hero gets tiresome. I shouldn't admit it, but throwing women across saddles is exhausting.”

Casey didn't laugh. “I guess I owe you some food. As for today, what are we going to do when you're recognized by squealing girls?”

“I brought a fake mustache and a baseball cap. And I figure that if I keep my clothes on, even my most rabid fans won't recognize me.”

At the memory of their first meeting, the blood rushed to her face. His smile showed that he'd seen her blush—and he enjoyed it.

“What about Jack? Doesn't he need a disguise?”

“Fewer people…”

“Oh, I see. His movies have a select clientele, while yours are seen by the masses.”

“Except for you.” He looked at her for a moment. “I better go help Jack with the coolers. He's a puny little thing, and I'd hate for him to collapse under the weight.”

Casey went back into her house. After Devlin left, she'd stayed up until midnight making apple cranberry muffins, and she'd put ingredients into her bread machine and set the timer. This morning she'd boiled eggs and made crêpes and packed everything.

“We're ready if you are,” Tate said from outside the screen door. “When does the sale start?”

“Ten, but they open for previewing at eight. My sister sent me a long list of items that we need to buy. Could you get this box? It's full of ropes and bungee cords so we can tie things down.”

Tate didn't move, just stood there.

“If you'd rather not carry it, I can,” she said stiffly.

“There is no way on earth that I'm going to enter your house without a specific invitation. Something like, ‘Landers, please come inside.' ”

Casey rolled her eyes. “Okay. You may enter. Please come inside and pick up that box while I get the first-aid supplies.”

He still didn't move. “Are the pies securely hidden away?”

With a groan, Casey flung the screen open. When he passed her, his arm grazed hers, and electricity shot up her arm and into her shoulder. “Ow!”

Tate smiled as he picked up the box.

“Have you had yourself checked out by a doctor?” she asked. “There must be a reason why you shock people.”

“Since it only happens with you, I haven't felt the need for an exam. Besides, since I'm pretty sure it's just old-fashioned sex, I think my doctor would laugh at me. Anything else you need carried?”

“No,” she said, frowning. “But I'm sure the electricity has nothing to do with—” She broke off, because Tate had left.

This is bad, she thought. First he reminded her of the idiocy of watching him take a shower, then he said…

As she straightened her shoulders, she told herself that she wasn't going to dwell on any of that. She picked up the last of the boxes and went outside, closing the solid door behind her. A closed door would keep out whatever critters were running around, human or otherwise.

The truck they'd brought had a big double cab and a closed back. It was from a major rental company and Tate was standing by the open doors. “Where did this come from?”

“Kit called me yesterday,” Tate said. “Let's see if I can quote him verbatim. ‘Since you're wasting your life doing absolutely nothing, why don't you call somebody and get a big truck so you can help Casey?' He seemed to be in a bad mood.”

She handed him boxes to put into the back. “He is. It's what I told you about Stacy and Kit's son. Kit seems to think she's falling in love with the wrong man.”

“Been there, done that,” Tate said in a way that made her give a little snort. “Sounds like you have too.”

“Not really. My only long-term boyfriend was perfect. He was an altogether nicer, kinder person than I am.”

“So you didn't rage at him and falsely accuse him of crimes he didn't commit?”

“Absolutely never.”

“Poor guy,” Tate said, his eyes sparkling.

“I've been meaning to ask how you and Kit are related.”

“I think it's that his maternal grandmother and my great-grandmother were sisters. Or was it my great-great-grandmother? I can't remember which.”

When Tate closed the back door of the truck, Casey's eyes widened at what she saw. Standing under a nearby tree, Jack and Gizzy were wrapped around each other and kissing with great enthusiasm.

Tate took a step to the side to block Casey's view.

“How long has that been going on?”

“Since about five minutes after they met. They rarely come up for air. My house has become like a Roman orgy. Underwear is hanging from the chandeliers, and peanut butter is everywhere. What do you think they
do
with all that peanut butter? Make sandwiches?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You're not funny. Gizzy's dad won't like this.”

“I think that's part of the reason they're trying to hide out. In public they barely lock pinkies, but when they're alone at my house…” With a shrug, he turned and yelled, “Jack! We're packed and ready to go. I'm driving.” He looked at Casey. “You get shotgun beside me.”

Minutes later, the four of them were in the truck, Jack and Gizzy in the back. As Tate left town and pulled onto the highway, Casey began handing out food and drink. After they ate, Gizzy snuggled up to Jack and the two of them immediately fell asleep in each other's arms.

“You're looking at them like you're the disapproving schoolmarm. They don't have sex in Summer Hill?”

She started to defend herself but didn't. “How would I know? I'm sure you can answer that better than I can. How's Angela Yates?”

“Have you been reading the fan mags?”

She didn't tell him that last night Devlin had mentioned the starlet. They'd been talking about themselves, comparing stories of education and relationships, when he'd said that he had dated Ms. Yates, who was a very pretty, up-and-coming young actress. But then she'd met Tate. “And that was the end of
me,
” Devlin said. She'd left a Christmas party with Tate, and Devlin never saw her again.

When Casey didn't answer his question, Tate glanced at her and the teasing look left his face. “I've never met the young woman. Don't you know that most of what you read in those magazines and see on the Internet is a lie? If I'm seen at the same restaurant as some starlet, the next day they'll say we were meeting in secret and she's going to leave her husband for me.” He changed lanes. “We've got a long drive ahead of us so why don't you tell me about yourself? I heard you used to run Christie's in D.C. What made you quit?”

“How do you know I wasn't fired for being a bad cook?”

“That pie I stole,” he said. “It was as addictive as a drug. Not too sweet, a bit tart. It had a cream base but was also crunchy. The owner of a restaurant would
never
fire somebody who could cook like that. So you must have left for some other reason. My guess is that your leaving had something to do with the perfect boyfriend.”

For a moment Casey looked out the window at the passing scenery. Virginia really was a beautiful state. The only person she'd told the truth of what happened to make her leave the restaurant was her mother.

But right now, being isolated in the car with a man she hardly knew—but who sent electricity racing through her—with the couple cuddled in the back, was making her feel like telling the truth.

“Who was the one who did the dumping?” All humor was gone from Tate's voice.

“He was.”

“Hurts, doesn't it?” He sounded sympathetic.

“I don't know.” She paused. “I wasn't there.”

Tate waited, but when Casey said no more, he said, “I love stories. It's a lot of why I got into acting. My mother used to tell my sister and me fascinating stories about her summers at Tattwell. I—”

“Your family owned the place? I didn't know that. Did you—?”

“Oh, no, you don't. You first. Tell me how he broke up with you when you weren't there. A Post-it note? Email? Twitter? What was it?”

His tone was lightening the mood. So far she'd only been able to cry at the thought of what happened. One night over a glass of wine she'd started to tell Stacy, but wine on an empty stomach had dulled her senses so much that she didn't continue. “None of the above,” Casey said.

“Phone message? Skywriting? He had someone else tell you?”

Casey was beginning to smile. “He didn't tell me at all.” She looked at Tate. “I didn't know he was gone until ten days after he left.”

Tate glanced at her with what was supposed to be a concerned look, but he couldn't keep it. He let out a burst of laughter so loud that Jack and Gizzy stirred.

“Shhhh, you'll wake them up.”

“Then they'll start kissing again and I'll start looking at you and we know how that ends. I thought you were going to hit me with a spoon over a pie. If I stole a kiss you'd probably use a tire iron. You have to divert my mind. Move to the middle and tell me everything.”

“I don't think— Why are you slowing down?” She knew the answer. “Okay, I'm moving. But don't
touch
me.”

“Wouldn't dream of it. Fasten your seatbelt. Now, tell me.”

“It was all my fault,” she began.

“Let me judge for myself.”

“I took on too much, and that caused the problems. You see, Mr. Galecki—he owns Christie's—wanted someone to bring the old place back to life.”

“So he wisely chose you.”

“Actually, I was fifth on his list of possibles, but I didn't know that until three years later. He's a wily old man and I think he figured me out in an instant. He told me he thought I was too young to do the job.”

“And his words lit a bomb of determination inside you?”

“Exactly,” she said. “Everyone, even my mom, told me not to take that restaurant on. I thought she doubted that I could do the work, but no, she saw through Lecki.”

“My guess is that he hired you because you were young and alive with the old I-can-do-it attitude. And you were probably very cheap.”

“That's exactly right. I was determined to show them all that I
could
do it. So anyway, back to my boyfriend, Ben. We'd been dating off and on since college. For most of the time, I was in culinary school and he was getting his law degree. After we moved in together, he started his new job and I began at Christie's. We hardly saw each other, but it was okay. We were both young and ambitious and…” She shrugged. “It worked. At least I thought it did.”

She took a breath. “But last fall Lecki booked me for three weddings in ten days. He just kept telling the brides, ‘Oh, Casey can do that.' Whatever those girls could come up with, he told me to do it. Port-wine sauce, check. Every chicken deboned, check. I had to do everything!