Tate (Cowboys & Debutantes: Contemporary Book 4)

by Kit Morgan

  He half-laughed. “You mean since I told you I hadn’t, what, an hour ago?”

  She sighed. “I’m sorry – my head’s in the clouds today.”

  He studied her a moment before coming closer, concern written all over his face. “We can cancel dinner if you like.”

  She looked into his fathomless dark eyes and swallowed. “Um, well … no, it’s all right.” She couldn’t do it, she just couldn’t. After today she’d avoid the man like the plague – if she could. But for one lousy evening, she wanted Tate to herself.

  “Okay, so long as you’re sure?” he said.

  Melanie nodded and smiled. “Very sure.”

  They emerged from the park at Grand Army Plaza on the north side. Melanie watched Tate look around at the sights around him. “Wow,” he finally said. “There’s certainly a lot here to see.”

  “Yes, Brooklyn is nice.”

  He looked at her with a smile. “You wouldn’t happen to have time to show me some of it, would you?”

  Oh, great, she thought. Of course she’d have to tell him no. There was no way she could play tour guide for Cassandra’s boyfriend when her heart was bouncing all over at the sight of him. It was a recipe for big trouble. No, no, a thousand times no … “Sure,” she squeaked.

  You are really a grand prize idiot, her conscience groaned.

  He laughed. “Something wrong with your voice?”

  She shook her head. “Allergies? Who knows?”

  He smiled again, looking around at the people and everything else around them. A lot of walkers and runners were emerging from the park. “Popular place. It’s hard to believe all these people are here, while in there it was just the two of us for so long.”

  She smiled. It was all she could do.

  He peered past her. “Is that the subway station right there?”

  “Yes.” She whipped out her phone, even though she already knew they’d be using the station he’d spotted. Unless … “You up for a little more walking? We could take the 4 to the Upper East Side. The station’s down this way a few blocks.” She waved at Eastman Parkway, a main thoroughfare.

  “I’m game if you are,” he said.

  She smiled. She could have steered him to the station in front of them, rode the few blocks to the next and caught the 4 there, but she wanted to have him to herself just a little longer. “Okay, follow me.” They started off.

  Her conscience started a list: Selfish. Stupid. Dangerous …

  I don’t care, she thought back.

  “This is so New York,” he commented after they’d walked past the Brooklyn Library and the museum. “What are the Botanical Gardens? I noticed an entrance to them back there.”

  Melanie tuned out her guilt and smiled. “Oh, they’re very nice. Too bad it isn’t spring, they’re great in the spring. All those blossoms …”

  “Really?” he remarked with interest. “Has Cassandra ever been to them?”

  Melanie fought back a sigh. “Yes, I’ve done some photo shoots with her there.”

  “Did she like them?”

  “We were working, so I couldn’t tell you.” And wouldn’t want to tell him even if she knew. But she did know Cassandra wasn’t one for nature – she was a city girl through and through. But hadn’t she mentioned once that she was originally from the country? One would think she’d hanker for the outdoors, but no, the more concrete the better. Hmm, she must have Cassandra’s origins mixed up with someone else. Which brought back Tate’s earlier question – had Cassandra told him she liked to go hiking?

  They crossed the street and walked down the tree-lined walking and bike path that ran down the center of Eastman Parkway. Tate reminded her of a kid in a candy store. “Look at all these benches.” To her surprise, he stopped at one and sat.

  The path, which ended another block or so down, was lined with benches on either side. She’d taken this walk before after hiking through the park and had occasionally stopped just to sit and think. It was a pretty spot, even with cars going by on either side. “You’re enjoying yourself.”

  “Oh yeah. Jake told me about places he’d gone his first time here, and I saw a couple of things the last time I was in town – tourist stuff, like the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building. But I was busy – there wasn’t much time. This is new.”

  “You should check out some of the museums,” she suggested.

  He shrugged. “I’m more interested in checking out Yankee Stadium.”

  She made a face. Her father was a baseball freak – she should introduce them. Better yet … “You should check to see if there are any games while you’re here.”

  “Now you’re talking!”

  Melanie laughed at the look on his face – one would think she’d just given him a brand-new car. “My dad’s really into baseball.”

  “He is?” Tate asked, just as enthused.

  “He’d love to go to a game – though mind you, he’ll talk your ear off about the old Stadium and all the players he’s seen. I can call him after we eat.”

  “Wow – thanks, Mel!”

  Her breath caught. He’d never used her nickname before. Maybe it meant nothing, but the sound of it coming from him …

  For Pete’s sake …, her conscience began.

  “So you like baseball?” Melanie blurted, hoping to drown out the interior monologue. Besides, baseball was a running joke in her family, at least when it came to her father. He’d even taken Bernard the doorman to a few games. “It’s kind of a requirement.”

  “A what?”

  “Yeah,” she said with a nod. “I see about four games a year, if I have time. But my dad …”

  “When can I meet him?” Tate asked, excited.

  “Well, um, I suppose I could invite him to join us for dinner …”

  “Great, do it!”

  Melanie did her best not to groan. A few hours alone with Tate Sullivan, when she’d planned to savor every moment, was being washed out by the gleam of the superfan in his eye and the excitement in his voice. Tate and her father were going to hit it off beautifully. Sigh. With feigned enthusiasm, she pulled her out her phone and dialed her dad’s number.

  * * *

  “You want to see someone get excited?” Douglas Haeger said with a chuckle. “Take Bernard to a game.”

  Tate laughed so hard he almost spilled his drink. “I can just imagine, and I’ve only met him once.”

  “He’s a great guy. I don’t see him as much now that Casey’s not there – I used to drop Mel off and visit with him.”

  “I wonder if Casey misses him,” Tate commented.

  Melanie took a sip of water. They were still waiting for their food. Her dad met them outside the restaurant, one of his favorite Italian places to eat, and he and Tate were having a ball. She, on the other hand, was bored out of her skull. The exchange of historical trivia about the game (each man testing the other’s knowledge – “baseball posturing,” she liked to call it), comparing notes on the current season … no doubt they’d get to Hall of Fame candidacies somewhere around dessert. She’d seen it before.

  The two were getting along so famously she wondered if either remembered she was there. “Bread, anyone?” she asked. The waiter had brought a basket, set it down and left, but neither man paused for breath long enough to notice.

  “And what about Jackie? The things he had to go through …” Her father shook his head.

  “Did you see 42 when it came out?” Tate asked. “I never got the chance.”

  “I think maybe I’ll order a shot of whiskey,” Melanie tossed in.

  “It’s terrific – in fact, I own a copy. Maybe we could watch it tomorrow night – are you free?”

  “Maybe I’ll order a bottle.” She poked the breadbasket. She didn’t drink, but she’d never seen her father hit it off with anyone like this before. The man was completely enthralled. And she was completely a third wheel.

  “Where do you live?” Tate asked.

  “Not far from where you�
��re staying,” her father said. “I can pick you up at eight.”

  “Don’t trouble yourself – I can walk.”

  “Are you sure? It’s ten blocks.”

  “He won’t get lost,” Melanie interjected.

  Both men looked at her – finally. “What’s that, sweetheart?” her father asked.

  “The man is perfectly capable of finding your house, dad.”

  Tate grinned. “Google Maps. Never used it ‘til I came here.”

  “Handy, aren’t they? Have you looked up the new Stadium yet?”

  “No, sir, but I plan to.”

  “Well, you’d better. I have a luxury box there, you know.”

  Melanie cringed. Tate looked ready to melt into a puddle of ecstasy. And to make matters worse, his phone rang. He casually pulled it out to check it while at the same time asking her father if he’d seen their last game – now that was a silly question! But then Tate stared at his phone, then up at her father as if coming down to earth. “Could you excuse me for just a moment?”

  “Certainly,” her father said. They watched Tate get up and leave the table, heading toward the restrooms. “I hope everything’s all right … hey, bread. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Melanie wanted to facepalm, but restrained the impulse. Instead she let her eyes drift across the room to where Tate stood. “Must not be too bad – he’s not talking to anyone.”

  Her father was busy buttering the slice of bread he’d plucked from the basket. “Nice work, Melanie.”

  “What?”

  He smiled and nodded at Tate. “Nice work. I like him.”

  Melanie groaned, and now she did facepalm. “It’s not that.” she mumbled through her fingers.

  “Not what?”

  She looked up and ran a hand through her long hair. “He and I aren’t …” She waved a hand in the air. “… a thing.”

  Douglas Haeger’s face fell in disappointment. “Really?”

  “Really, dad,” she said with a grimace. “He’s dating Cassandra.”

  “Cassandra?!”

  “Dad, lower your voice, for Heaven’s sake.”

  He leaned toward her. “Cassandra?” he hissed. “What has Cassandra got that you don’t?”

  Tate Sullivan, she thought sadly, then shrugged.

  “Ridiculous,” he said. “Cassandra’s not his type.”

  “Tell that to him.”

  “I will.”

  “No, no!” Melanie’s eyes popped with panic. “Don’t you dare!”

  Her father smiled wryly, but sympathetically, and nodded just as Tate returned to the table. “Good news!” Tate said.

  Melanie sighed in relief. “What is it?”

  “Cassandra just e-mailed me – she’s coming home!”

  Tears stung the back of Melanie’s eyes. “That’s wonderful,” she replied, ignoring the inner voice – and the way her heart broke just a little.

  Chapter 4

  “That’s it, beautiful,” Melanie told her model as her camera whirred. “Now raise your chin … perfect …” The shoot was for a holiday look book. Music from Michael Angelakos’ Merry Christmas, Mr. Fields played in the background for ambiance. She had friends who’d worked on the album and gave herself a quick reminder to give them a call. But first things first. Her camera continued as she worked her magic.

  The set was feminine, surreal – Melanie’s trademark, like something out of a storybook dream. The model’s fluid motion at Mel’s directions continued until she was satisfied they had enough shots for the outfit they were working with. “Okay, Nat, let’s do the next one.”

  Natalie, a gorgeous blonde with waist-length hair, did a little dance. “Finally!” she yelped as she ran for the bathroom.

  Melanie laughed and checked some of the shots she’d just taken. She was using a digital camera for this shoot, though lately she’d preferred good old-fashioned film. She went on to change the background and move props for the next set of shots. The music played on, and she began to sing along with a song aptly named “Weather the Storm.” Which was how she felt, only the storm was Hurricane Cassandra. And it was soon headed for American shores.

  Melanie picked up a long piece of silk, draped it over the background and thought of the “Weather the Storm” music video. A friend of hers had directed Angelakos’ entire video album, and had a young girl, no more than fourteen, dancing with a fur coat during this particular song. There was a freedom and innocence in her simple movements that Melanie wished she could capture for herself at the moment. Instead she felt as if she were trapped under a bridge by relentless wind and pelting rain.

  Cassandra was coming back in a couple of weeks … but should have been back a week ago. Just what was she doing all this time? Melanie knew well that the shoot couldn’t have fallen that far behind. Maybe she picked up another one, who knows? She wasn’t responding to Melanie’s e-mails, even though Cassandra worked for Melanie much of the time. One would think she’d want to know when she was needed next. But nope, silence.

  Melanie frowned and fluffed some pink furry pillows.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Nat asked as she returned in a new outfit. “And what do you want me to do with my hair?”

  Melanie sighed wearily. “Hmm. Let’s take a curling iron to it – just the ends.”

  “Okay.” Nat went to a small duffle bag full of brushes, combs, rollers and other hair paraphernalia. She pulled out the curling iron, went to the nearest outlet and plugged it in. “So you gonna tell me?”

  “Tell you what?” Melanie mumbled as she continued to change things around.

  “Why you’re so grouchy.”

  Melanie froze. “I’m not grouchy …” She stilled and let herself review the day. “… much.”

  “The heck you’re not.” Nat was from a strict church background, and didn’t even swear when she stubbed her toe.

  Melanie sighed again. “Uncle.”

  “Wow, that was almost too easy. So what’s the matter?”

  Melanie shook her head and tried not to think about how excited Tate looked last night when he found out Cassandra was coming home soon. He liked the girl a lot, and Melanie was just going to have to get that through her thick skull. “It’s nothing I can’t figure out.” She gave Nat a reassuring look. “Now let’s take care of your hair.”

  They worked for two more hours, followed by another thirty minutes to clean everything up. “I hope the guy you share this space with doesn’t mind glitter,” Natalie said.

  Melanie’s eyes skipped around the floor. Her friend James, whom she shared studio space with, had misplaced the broom sometime last week. How he’d managed that, she had no idea. “He can live with it. Besides, he’s working in L.A. right now – I don’t count on him being back anytime soon.”

  “Jealous?” Nat asked.

  Melanie gave it some thought. “A little.”

  “Is he gonna move?”

  “I don’t know, maybe. If he finds enough work.”

  “What about you?” Nat asked and zipped up her stylist bag.

  “I don’t know. Thanks for doing your own makeup and hair today. Sorry Sorcha wasn’t available.”

  “That’s okay, I need the practice. I have to know I still got it.”

  Melanie rolled her eyes. “As if you’d ever lose it.” A lot of the models she worked with were also stylists in their own right, and Nat was no exception.

  Nat closed her eyes a moment. “Ohhhh, I love this song.”

  Melanie, caught up in her thoughts, had forgotten the music was still playing. The title song of Merry Christmas Mr. Fields, hit her hard. The song wasn’t meant to be sad – it was about celebration, gratitude. But the childlike innocence the artist was conveying always made her think. Was she wasting her life? Had she lost sight of things? Ever since Casey married Jake, she’d felt like she were drifting. Maybe that’s why she was so attracted to Tate.

  Or, Heaven forbid, was she jealous in that area too – of Casey? She wasn’t in a hurr
y to get married – she was still in her mid-twenties, was building a career, and was too busy most of the time to even think about men. But then Jake walked into Dixie’s one day and she watched her friend not only fall in love, but figure out who she was.

  Melanie zipped up her camera bag, wondering if she knew who she was. Could she do what Casey did when challenged and leave New York? She remembered the night Jake told Casey to figure out what she wanted, get away from the world she knew and see how the other half lived. Melanie wasn’t there for the conversation though she was in the same place when it happened. Casey had told her later about how she’d had a blow-up with her father and upset Jake, who’d thought Casey had played him for a fool.

  Melanie closed her eyes a moment to still the threatening tears. And now she’d started to fall for a guy that wasn’t even available – how could she have possibly let herself do that? How stupid could she be?

  What have I been saying? her conscience interjected.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she muttered. Tate Sullivan had occupied her mind constantly since Casey’s wedding. Unfortunately, so had Cassandra. She worked with her, after all, and had to listen to her talk about Tate, how good-looking he was, how he was so different from other guys she knew. Let’s see, Oregon rancher vs. New York hipster … yeah, that was about as different as one could get.

  But was Cassandra serious about him or just stringing him along? Men were like playthings to her, and with her looks Cassandra could play a lot when she wanted to. And often did …

  Stay out of it, Mel. Just back off.

  “Easier said than done,” she replied. Being around Tate felt so … right.

  “Talking to yourself again?” Nat asked. “Good thing I know you, or I might think you were actually on the phone, like normal people.”

  “Ha ha ha,” Melanie said. “And I know, it’s a bad habit.” Nat was just staring at her – had she heard what she’d said? “So can I count on you next week?” she asked, just in case Nat was tempted to tune her out – or paying too much attention to her maunderings.