Uncovering Love

by Kacey Shea

  I made my way out to my living room to watch TV to pass the time. I scrolled through the channels mindlessly, ending up on some do it yourself home network show. My thoughts continued to wander back to Tate. Who were the children and woman Jon saw him with yesterday? If the children were his, my time with Tate would be over because Stacey already made her position clear on that.

  If Tate had a girlfriend we would also be done with the case. I had a gut feeling Jon was wrong about his assessment of Tate. Call me crazy, but from my little time spent with Tate he just didn’t seem the type to hide a family. He seemed the kind of guy who would shout it from the rooftops—the dad who had the corny school picture keychain of his kids, and who would casually talk about his kid in almost every conversation. The kind of man who never took his wedding band off.

  Frustrated that my thoughts were constantly wandering back to all things Tate Reynolds, I pulled my laptop off the coffee table and onto my folded legs to check my email. Nothing but advertising in my personal account so I logged in to our investigation shared account and was startled to find several emails.

  There were five emails alone from Stacey Mills-Sandoval, all expressing her pressing need to be updated more frequently on the status of our investigation. I had to chuckle to myself as I noticed some of the emails were time stamped only hours apart. Obsessive much? Jon and I would have to update her more regularly.

  I knew from my experience as a personal assistant that high maintenance clients who weren’t contacted only became more aggressive and persistent. I replied to her most recent message, sending a vague short reply letting Stacey know our investigation was progressing well and we hoped to have more definitive answers to her within a week. I ensured her we would be in contact as soon as we had conclusive answers to her questions.

  The next email I pulled up was from Harold Blackman. I opened it to find an attachment with all of the new client information forms filled out for his case. The file was at least twenty pages long. I was impressed in his thoroughness; this guy really went to town when it came to the fill in the blank answers. Since Jon and I still hadn’t had a chance to discuss their meeting yesterday, I decided to brush up by reading the file. I was deeply engrossed when there was a loud knock at the door. I looked at the clock and quickly closed the screen. This would be an interesting case to work, but for now I needed to focus on figuring out as much as I could about Tate.

  I popped up from the couch and yelled, “Just a minute!” grabbing my bag and keys as I walked to the door. I peeked through the peephole to find Tate looking fine as ever in a pair of tight jeans and a green T-shirt straining over his muscles. His tattoos were peeking out of the sleeves. His hair was wet and going in every other direction, and I felt the insane desire to run my hands through those wayward locks to style it. Down girl. I gave myself a little mental pep talk, steeling myself against his good looks, and swung the door open. “Hi, Tate.” I greeted him with a smile that matched his own. I loved seeing his dimples pop when he smiled like that. Okay, Evie, focus on the investigation. This would be a long day.

  “You ready? I thought we would get some breakfast before our big day. There’s a place not too far from here that makes the best breakfast burritos. Sound good to you?”

  I came out of the door and turned to lock up. “Yeah, that sounds great. I’m really hungry too. Correction, I’m always hungry.” I laughed.

  “A woman after my own heart.”

  We walked to the curb where his car was parked, and like the last time we were together he opened and shut my door for me. We chatted comfortably while he drove. “I’m sorry I was late this morning. One of our group instructors called in sick and Nick asked if I could sub a few classes. I hope that was okay. Being late is a major pet peeve of mine, which you already felt the wrath of, so I feel really bad!”

  “Yeah, you should feel really bad after all the shit you gave me yesterday.”

  He frowned, “Yeah, I realize the irony there. I’m sorry again. That wasn’t fair to you.”

  “It’s fine, Tate. You already apologized. Let’s just move on.”

  “Okay, sounds good. I would have been on time but after teaching both a Zumba and Booty Burn class I figured you would appreciate me taking the time to shower!”

  At that, we pulled up to Fernandos, which looked to be a hole in the wall restaurant located just off the 101. I had probably driven past this place a thousand times and never noticed it. Tate cut the ignition, then quickly jumped out of the car and ran over to open my door for me. “So, I hope you don’t judge a book by its cover.” He smiled and continued, “This place might not look like much, but the food is out of this world.”

  I grinned. “Oh, I don’t. There is a pizza place I frequent that has the same look. Everyone doubts me until I take them there!”

  Tate opened the glass door leading inside the small restaurant, holding it open for me. “Maybe one day you can take me.”

  The inside of the place was nothing spectacular. There were five booths that made up the only dining space, constructed of orange Formica that looked to be only a slight step up from the tables of elementary lunch rooms. The counter separated the open kitchen from the small dining space, and above that the menu was listed on a printed sign, each item number with a short description and picture. The smells wafting through the restaurant had my mouth watering in anticipation.

  An elderly, round Hispanic woman shuffled to the cash register. When her eyes landed on Tate she smiled warmly. “Tate! Hola guapo! How are you this morning?” Tate smiled at her words. “I’m good. You look lovely as always, Maria. I brought my friend to try your incredible food today.” Maria watched us both with curiosity. “Amiga, yes, but this one is too pretty! You should ask her to be your wife, no? You need to get married soon before you turn to an old man without a familia.”

  Tate chuckled and I couldn’t help but smile as well. It seemed these two had a familiar banter established. I studied the menu and when Tate asked me what sounded good, I ordered the number twelve. I tried to pay for my food, but Tate insisted he buy my meal again, reasoning that he invited me so it was his treat. I rolled my eyes in frustration but Maria looked pleased with Tate’s choice in the matter.

  I followed Tate’s lead and we took an empty booth by the window, giving us a perfect view of the freeway entrance. How romantic! I smiled to myself, glad that so far our day was off to friendly conversation and relaxed company. I decided to be bold and ask Tate what I had been dying to know since the night before.

  “So, Maria seems to think you need a wife and kids. You don’t have either, do you?” Tate burst out laughing and his eyes crinkled in amusement.

  “I thought we already covered our relationship status the other day, Evie.” He took a drink from his water glass. “No. No wife, no kids, no girlfriend.” He winked at me and I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “So, is that something you want someday? A wife, kids, a familia?” I asked with a grin and Tate studied me closely—a little too intently—which made me squirm in my seat. I didn’t break eye contact, though. Something about the way he challenged me caused me to not want to back down. As though we were both trying to gain dominance in the relationship.

  He must have found what he was looking for because he leaned forward in the booth and answered. “Yeah, I would love to find my soulmate one day. If we’re blessed with children, that would be spectacular too. But I don’t need a wife and kids to make me complete. If she’s not the one or I never find her, I won’t settle for less just to have a family.” The intensity of his answer had me scrambling for a way to lighten the mood.

  I was saved as Maria shuffled over with two paper lined baskets filled with our food. “Thank you,” I smiled to her and turned my attention to the giant breakfast burrito in front of me. “Oh wow. This is huge, I’m not sure I can finish it all. How am I even supposed to fit this in my mouth?”

  “That’s what she said,” Tate added with a chuckle. I laughed and looked at
him in mock irritation.

  “Why do guys always say that? You just can’t let anything be said without making it sexual.”

  He laughed between bites of food. “I’m sorry. I really can’t help myself. I know it’s juvenile, but I laugh all the same.” I smiled and took a big bite of my burrito. I groaned in delight.

  “Oh my god, this is amazing. Best burrito I’ve ever had. So good!” I moaned and continued eating.

  Tate finished his food in record time and I was awestruck to see he finished the entire thing. I tried my best but still had half remaining when I tapped out. “That was incredible. Thank you for breakfast.” Tate beamed.

  “You’re very welcome. You finished?” I nodded yes, and he cleared the table. I stood slowly and stretched before following him out the door.

  “Adios, Maria! Gracias!” Tate yelled out before we shut the door. When we were buckled up inside the car Tate turned to face me. “Okay, so you said you were up for anything, right?” I nodded yes, and he grinned. “Good. We just have to stop by my place really quick. I packed up an ice chest with everything we need, but in my rush to get to work this morning I forgot it.” He turned the key to start the Charger and began driving.

  I was trying to be patient, but I hated not knowing what came next.

  “So, can I ask what it is you have planned for us today?” I tried my most charming voice. Tate glanced over and his lips curving in amusement.

  “Do you not like surprises, Miss Harper?” I huffed and crossed my arms defensively over my chest.

  “Not particularly . . .” I muttered. I hated how easily he read me. I’d need to work on keeping my poker face in check today.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe. Where we’re going has been known to scare many a woman away, but I have a sneaking suspicion you’ll be just fine.”

  “Oh, you don’t scare me, Mr. Reynolds. I can hold my own just fine.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, I know you can.” We listened to the radio as Tate drove to his home.

  We pulled into the drive and I was impressed. The small home was quaint but well cared for. I loved the neighborhood. It was one of the older historic areas in the city, located close to Old Town and a focus for restoration and revitalization.

  “I’ll just be a minute, but you can come in if you want.” Tate cut the engine and I moved to get out of my seat, opening my door. Tate frowned at me from around the car. “I could have gotten that for you, Evie.” I smiled and teased.

  “I can open my own door, Tate.” He walked to the front door, and I followed.

  “Yes, I know you can get the door. It’s just something I like to do. My mom was always a stickler for good manners and I guess most of them have stuck. I’m sure she would be proud.” We walked inside and I noted the homey, comfortable feel inside. It was nice but sparsely decorated.

  “I’m sure she would be very proud. You’re a good guy as far as I can tell,” I added absently as I walked around, studying the photos and knick-knacks displayed on a set of bookshelves. Tate disappeared around the corner for a moment. He returned with a travel size ice chest bag and set it down near the front door.

  He disappeared again, this time down the hall, yelling over his shoulder as he walked, “Thanks for letting me stop back by here. I can’t believe I forgot the ice chest; I never forget my food. I love food! I’m just going to use the restroom real quick and we’ll get out of here.” I smiled as I came across an old framed photo of him as a child, his arm wrapped around a girl, both smiling wide at the person holding the camera.

  “No problem. I’m just excited to find out where you’re taking me next!” I moved on to find other photos of the two. This must be his sister, and they were obviously close. There was a more recent looking photo of the woman with two smiling boys balanced on her lap. They looked very much like Tate and it hit me that these must be the boys Jon saw him with yesterday.

  Tate came back down the hall. “You ready to go?” I nodded to the photos as we exited the front door.

  “Those photographs, is that your sister in them?” I asked for confirmation. He smiled, the ice chest slung over his shoulder as we walked to the car.

  “Yeah, that’s Carly.” Tate opened my door for me once more and popped the trunk, placing the packed food inside. When he was back in the driver’s seat I continued my questioning.

  “Who are those boys in that photo of Carly? They look so much like you did as a child.”

  “Yeah, they really do, don’t they?” Tate seemed thoughtful and then smirked at me. “You sure are nosy today, Evie. You want to ask me again if I have any kids?”

  I could tell he was teasing, so I responded in the same manner. “Well, now I do. You sure are being evasive with your answers. My guess would be that they are your nephews, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “Yeah, they’re my nephews Ezra and Elijah, but we call him Eli. They are great kids.” I could tell he held them in admiration by the tone in his voice.

  “I’m sure they are. Maybe one day I can meet them,” I added, and Tate’s grin widened.

  “Yeah? Well, that’s good to hear, Evie.” Tate turned the music up as we headed towards the city limits.

  Vitamins scoop, veggies scoop, soy scoop, rice scoop, weigh, and next bag. Repeat. I stood in this large warehouse as music streamed loudly over the speakers and teams of children and adults worked together. When Tate asked me if I was up for anything today, I can honestly say I had no inkling we would end up volunteering to pack meals for the hungry with a bus full of second graders. I looked to my right and smiled as Tate’s nephew Ezra carefully measured the correct amount of veggies before dumping them into the funnel. I added a large scoop of granulated soy and Tate grinned at me as he added the final cup of rice. Another bag switch and we repeated the assembly line.

  I was amazed at the organization and efficiency of the non-profit Happy Helping Hands which used volunteers to package and send nutritious meal packs to underprivileged school aged children overseas. They had taken sixty students along with several teachers and parent volunteers and put us to work in groups. We were on the blue team and assigned to work with Tate’s nephew Ezra, three of his classmates, and Miss Brown, who was Ezra’s teacher. We were totally in the coolest group.

  Ezra looked just like a mini Tate with his sparkling green eyes, dark lashes, and brown hair that was slightly shorter and actually styled unlike his uncle’s. He was a chatty, friendly kid, talking to me and asking questions with confidence. I didn’t have much experience with children his age so I was glad he was comfortable around me. He cracked me up because he was quite the rule follower, quick to point out if one of us wasn’t doing our job exactly right.

  We sang along to a top forty hits radio mix while we worked as a team. Ezra was more meticulous than I’d expect an average second grade boy to be.

  “Good job, buddy. You are doing awesome.”

  Tate offered his nephew a compliment and Ezra beamed at the praise. My heart melted at their interaction. Nothing like a strong, beautiful man who was sweet and affectionate towards children. Swoon meter activate. I held back the audible sigh that threatened to escape my lips.

  “Hi Tate! Glad to see you and Ezra today!” A group leader walked by, patting Tate on the back before continuing to the clean up call for team red. Some kids were trigger happy with scoopers and had missed the funnel several times, splattering the floor with rice.

  “Do you volunteer at Ezra’s school?”

  “No, actually this is my first time. Why?”

  “Oh, I just wondered. That guy seemed to know you.” Tate glanced up as a woman with a clipboard passed by.

  “Hello Tate! How’s it going?” She grinned as Tate offered her a nod and continued on her way.

  “Okay, Mr. Popular, what gives? Why does everyone here know you by name?” He chuckled before answering in a soft tone that only I could hear above the loud music and chatter of students.

  “I bring the boys here every couple of
weeks. They haven’t had the easiest life. I know it’s hard to not have their dad in the picture. I think it’s important for them to have a chance to give back and realize there’s always someone out in the world who has it harder.”

  Yeah, I couldn’t be held responsible for the swooning sigh that finally broke from my lips. Not only did Tate spend his spare time helping others, but he did so with the intent to help his nephews grow into empathetic young men. I was astonished at the layers to this man. Each one revealing something new and unexpected. I couldn’t wait to learn more.

  “Miss Brown! Miss Brown! Look at the good job we are doing!” One of the students waved from the green team.

  “Great work, Isabella! I like your enthusiasm!”

  Miss Brown gave the child a thumbs up before going back to her role of sealing and boxing up the food bags assembled by our team. She was attentive to each of her students and spoke sincere words of encouragement at their constant interruptions. I don’t remember any of my teachers from elementary school being so youthful or attractive, but she was both.

  Her big brown doe eyes framed by long lashes repeatedly made their way to Tate. It irritated me at how conspicuously she ran her eyes up and down his muscular frame. On one hand I wanted to high five her and commemorate the amazing genetic wonder that was Tate Reynolds. But the bedroom eyes she continued to send his way had a streak of jealously running through my normally tame thoughts.

  When Tate glanced up and grinned her way, flashing those dimples, I’d had quite enough. We were supposed to be hanging out, and although it wasn’t a date, per se, he shouldn’t be flirting back. Okay, maybe it wasn’t a date in any way, but Miss Brown did not know that.

  I sang along to the pop music blaring from the sound system for a few lines. I bumped my hip against Tate’s and leaned in close to whisper.