“Uncle Tate is angry about the scripts. He wants to do something funny.”
“Too bad people can’t see the movie he made with the peacock. That was very funny.”
Emmie looked at Casey with a brilliant grin.
“What’s that for?”
“I was just thinking about clouds. They’re very pretty.”
Puzzled, Casey agreed.
When they got back to the house, Emmie thanked her, then ran away, leaving Casey to haul everything inside and start her prep work. But first she cooked a crab-cake dinner for the Landers family and packed it into a cooler and a big basket. On impulse, she wrote a note.
Dear Tate,
I would like to apologize for believing another person over you. I am angry at myself for not seeing the truth.
When you returned from your trip and spoke of future possibilities, I misunderstood. I feel bad that Nina had to go to so much trouble to show me the truth.
I understand if you cannot forgive me.
Thank you for everything.
Acacia Reddick
She put the note in an envelope, sealed it, shoved it into the side of the basket, then hurried over to the Big House to leave it all on the porch steps.
When she got back to her house, she was shaking. How would Tate react to what she’d written? Would he call her and bawl her out? Appear on her doorstep and tell her she was never to contact him again?
When she couldn’t get her mind off what Tate was going to do, she turned on the TV. Maybe a nice scary movie would distract her as she prepped for tomorrow. Counting cast and crew, the lunch would be for about fifty people, so she had a lot to do. She needed to get up no later than five tomorrow morning to put it all together.
She checked the channels to see what was on. To her shock, a Tate Landers movie was just starting. Usually, she’d flip past it—not what she was interested in. But today she pushed the button and put the remote control down. Maybe she should see what so many women were talking about.
There was a naked man on Casey’s back porch.
It was five A.M., her alarm had just gone off, and she’d staggered down to the kitchen to start making lunch.
Last night she’d stayed up late because she’d watched three Tate Landers movies in a row. When the first one ended, her heart was pounding and her fingertips were tingling—as was every other part of her body.
The plots of the movies were absolutely absurd. Pretty girl in a jam gets saved by the reluctant hero. Ho-hum. Nothing new there.
But Tate made the pictures so very watchable. His dark good looks were intensified on the screen. When he scowled in annoyance at the heroine, Casey found her own heart beating faster. She’d set down her knife and stared at the screen.
Had Tate ever looked at her like that? she wondered. Maybe he had, at first, but she hadn’t realized what he was doing. She’d been so angry at him that nothing he did made a good impression on her.
When the first movie ended, all she knew for sure was that she wanted more. She searched until she found movies she could stream, and she purchased—not rented—two of them.
By the middle of the second one, she gave up cooking, moved to the bigger TV in the living room, turned out the lights, and watched.
When that was over, she put on the pajamas Tate liked so much and watched the third movie on her iPad while in bed. It was as close as she could get to snuggling with him.
If it hadn’t been for the huge lunch she had to cater the next day, she would have stayed up and watched a fourth film. Reluctantly, she turned the iPad off and went to sleep.
When the alarm went off at five, she could hardly get out of bed. She fumbled her way down the stairs, yawning, filled the electric teakettle, and put the leaves in the strainer. A sound made her turn. The back-porch light was on, but she often left it on.
Standing on the stone path was Tate, and as she watched, he took off his T-shirt and sweatpants and let them fall to the ground. Totally nude and facing her, he walked up the three steps, his full male glory in clear view.
He forgave her! That’s what went through her mind.