Tate (Cowboys & Debutantes: Contemporary Book 4)

by Kit Morgan

  “Sure. When?”

  “Tuesday too early?”

  Nat watched her a moment. Oh yeah, she’d been paying attention. “So who’s the guy?”

  Great. Now see what you’ve done?

  “There’s a guy, isn’t there?” Nat probed. “You’ve been acting funny all day.”

  Melanie felt a headache coming on. She rubbed at one temple

  Nat smiled. “Ahhhh, there is a guy!” She suddenly sobered. “So what’s the problem? Why so glum? He isn’t married, is he?”

  Melanie let her hand drop and picked up her camera bag. “Might as well be.”

  Nat looked sympathetic. “I’m sorry. That sucks.”

  “Yeah, well, there’s nothing to be done about it.”

  Nat slung her duffle bag over one shoulder with a grunt. “Anyone I know?”

  “Not really.”

  Nat scrunched up her face in confusion. “That’s not a clear ‘no,’ Mel. Have I seen him then?”

  “Drop it,” Melanie said more tersely than intended.

  “Fine,” said Nat, turning to leave. “I was just asking.”

  Melanie rolled her eyes – she shouldn’t have snapped. “Sorry. I just … don’t feel well right now.”

  “Go home, crawl into bed.”

  “I can’t. I have to edit these photos.”

  Nat sighed sympathetically. “It’s a bummer, isn’t it? Unrequited love.” She adjusted her duffel bag and left the studio.

  “You said it,” Melanie muttered as the door closed with a dull thud. “But how am I going to avoid Tate Sullivan?”

  * * *

  Actually, staying away from Tate was easy for a while – Melanie was buried in work. Not only that, she was buried in blankets, working from bed. She’d caught a bug, which gave her an excuse to not only avoid the object of her affection, but also Cassandra, who’d swept back into the city with a flourish. She’d called Melanie four times already, telling her about Paris and how far she’d be able to go in the modeling industry. Melanie knew one Paris shoot did not a superstar make. Tell that to Cassandra, though.

  At least she didn’t have to see her, which was good. She didn’t think she could stand watching her talk about Tate … which, come to think of it, she hadn’t done on the phone. Had they seen each other yet?

  Melanie wrapped up some e-mails, finished what editing she had left and sent the photos to the designer. Speaking of designers, she’d forgotten about Casey’s latest creations. She crawled out of bed, padded to the other side of her room and picked up the package Tate had given her last week. Returning to the bed, she sat down, opened it, peeked inside …

  “What the …?” What looked like a huge daisy peeked back. She pulled out the swimsuit and laughed in delight. “Oh, Casey! You’ve outdone yourself.” The suit was fun, playful, a black one-piece dotted with daisies. It was also plus-sized – a lot of pluses. She knew Casey was toying with a new line for older women – her “Sexy Granny” line, she’d called it – but hadn’t expected her to actually go through with it.

  She giggled and pulled out the next suit – medium-sized, powder blue, with scenes of small children, illustrations of fancy perfume bottles, even a cruise ship. Yeah, Casey was having fun. But there was a problem, she realized as she pulled out two more, just as wonderful as the first two and as large as the first. “Casey, where am I going to find someone to model these?”

  Melanie fell back onto her bed with a groan. She might find someone for the smaller suit, but the larger sizes? She supposed she could put a call out …

  The ring of her cell phone interrupted her thoughts. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Melanie?”

  Melanie suddenly straightened. “Tate,” she said, trying not to panic.

  “I was just wondering how you are – I haven’t seen you around the stable this week. I think Georgie misses you.”

  She sighed. “Yes, he probably does. I’ve been under the weather.”

  “Sick? That’s not what I want to hear.”

  She closed her eyes against his words. She didn’t doubt his concern, but it only plugged into those feelings she was trying to suppress. “I’ll live.”

  “Hope so. I wanted to know if you’d like to take a bike ride with me.”

  A chill went up her spine. “Bike … ride?”

  “Yeah, through Prospect Park?”

  Temptation rose, increasing the tingle in her spine. “What about Cassandra?”

  “I already asked her. She’s not interested – said she has to work. She suggested I take you if I wanted to ride with someone. Nothing I hadn’t already thought of on my own.”

  Melanie flopped back onto the bed again. Cassandra was working?! Where? When? If she didn’t want to work with her anymore, she could at least say something, so Melanie could start looking for someone to replace her.

  “Mel?”

  “Oh, sorry. Just thinking about Cassandra. Um, sure, why not?” She smacked her palm against her forehead as soon as the words were out.

  I know, right? Weren’t you trying to avoid the man?

  “Great. Think you’ll feel up to it tomorrow?”

  Perhaps being with Tate wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe it would help reinforce that he’d never be anything more than a friend. No sense throwing the baby out with the bath water. “Sure, I think I can handle that.”

  He sighed in satisfaction, and she wondered what it would feel like to have him breathe into her ear. “You’ll be at the stable tomorrow?”

  “I need to be, or poor Georgie will divorce me.”

  He laughed at that. “Good – I don’t have much to do tomorrow, so I can be done by one. That work for you?”

  Cassandra flashed before her, which prompted her to ask. “Are you sure this is okay with Cassandra?”

  “Like I said, she suggested it.”

  Hmmm … it wasn’t like Cassandra to let go of a guy so easily. Unless she was planning on moving on anyway …

  Don’t!

  Melanie swallowed hard. “All right. I just wanted to make sure.”

  “Don’t worry, Cass is a big girl. She’s not the jealous type.”

  Melanie came off the bed at that, her heart in her throat. Cassandra was a good assistant, ambitious in her work, but not only had a long string of boy toys in her past, she bragged about it. When she started seeing Tate, Melanie figured Cassandra was settling down and looking for something more permanent, which Tate was a good choice for. But if she was only toying with him … well, she didn’t think she could take that lying down.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked tentatively.

  “Sorry, thinking about work. Yes, one o’clock.”

  “Good, see you then. Bye!”

  “Bye.” She ended the call. Just what was Cassandra up to? And what was it likely to do to her, or Tate? Or her and Tate …

  Girl, don’t even go there.

  “You’re such a killjoy,” Melanie told her conscience.

  Chapter 5

  “I’d like to get Cassandra something,” Tate was saying. “But to be honest, I’m not sure what.”

  Melanie wanted to groan, cry and generally feel sorry for herself, but that would be childish. She was not going to let her feelings get the best of her. “Why not some jewelry?” she suggested, hoping she didn’t sound lame.

  “I thought of that, but what do you give a woman who seems to have everything?”

  “Seems, Tate. Seems.”

  He slowed his bike. They were approaching a crosswalk for the runners. “Are you telling me she doesn’t?”

  “I’m sure, as any girl would, that she’s dressing up for you. Looking her best.”

  He smiled. “She looks good, all right.”

  Melanie nodded. Cassandra was beautiful, to be sure. “Instead of worrying what you think she’ll like, why don’t you get her something you like?”

  “But what if she doesn’t like what I like?”

  She shook her head with a rueful smile. “You’re not
making this easy. You’re a very difficult man to help.”

  He laughed as they started off again. It was a beautiful fall day – September had just rolled into October, and the leaves were starting to turn. Melanie loved this time of year, and knew Tate did as well – he’d told her as much when they’d rented the bikes.

  “Would you go with me?” he asked.

  “Where?”

  “To pick something out? I need all the help I can get.”

  “Surely you’re not that helpless.”

  “I confess, I am. I’m a klutz when it comes to this sort of thing.”

  “A klutz?” she said incredulously. “How can you be clumsy when it comes to … oh.” She paused to let her brain catch up to her mouth. “I suppose that’s a different way of saying …”

  “I suck when it comes to women?”

  “No! I was not going to say that!”

  He laughed. “Well, I do.”

  She pedaled faster to come alongside him. “Wow, that’s quite the confession.”

  He shrugged. “I always have been. Maybe because I’ve always been so busy with the ranch. Jake was the same way, and so was Jenny with boys. That poor sister of mine is gonna need a book.”

  Melanie slapped his arm. “That’s a terrible thing to say about your sister!”

  He steered his bike out of contact range. “It’s true, though – she doesn’t know the first thing about serious dating.”

  “She double-dated with your brother, as I recall,” she reminded him. “Casey told me about it.”

  “That doesn’t count – she was dating a guy she already knew, and he wasn’t right for her anyway.” He took off, racing down the bike path like lightning.

  Melanie switched gears and did her best to catch up – no easy feat. She switched gears again, trying with all her might to go faster. Until the chain slipped. And the squirrel jumped out in front of her. She screamed as she went down – thankfully ending up on grass, as she’d swerved to avoid the rodent before hitting the ground. Still, it wasn’t pretty. “Ohhhh,” she groaned. At least she hadn’t gotten the wind knocked out of her.

  But then the pain hit, a bolt of electricity from her right ankle. She glanced at it and howled. No wonder – the bike pedal had landed on it. She’d been going too fast to bail, had hit the brakes too hard, and skidded across sand and gravel before reaching the grass.

  Melanie wished that terrible screaming noise would stop, even as her head swam. She had just realized she was the one making the noise when everything went black.

  * * *

  “Melanie!” Tate had turned to taunt her, saw she wasn’t there and turned around. There was a bend in the path, obstructing his view, but once around it ...

  “Melanie!” he called again as he reached her, jumped off his bike and knelt at her side. “Mel?” He looked her over – had she hit her head on anything? Hurt her neck, her back? Her ankle looked like it took the worst of it, but getting her conscious was more important right now. “Mel, c’mon, honey, open your eyes.” He gingerly patted the side of her face, almost afraid to touch her.

  Her eyes fluttered open.

  “That’s it, that’s it!” he said in relief.

  “Tate?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. Are you hurt bad? Have you hurt your back or neck? Can you move?” He put a hand on her arm.

  She looked at him, pain in her eyes, tried to struggle to a sitting position and immediately regretted the attempt. “Aaaaa-a-a-ah!”

  “Easy, honey, easy. Let me help.” He put an arm around her and helped her sit up, cradling her. “Can you talk, honey?”

  She grimaced. “Owww.”

  Relief washed over him. “Thank God.” He looked at her ankle again. “That looks bad.”

  “Feels bad too,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “What happened?”

  She tilted her head back to look at him. “Squirrel.”

  “A squirrel did this?” he said with a mix of shock and amusement. He glanced around. “Where’s the squirrel?”

  “I don’t know, but he better have a good lawyer.”

  He laughed. “At least you’re okay. So …” He glanced around again, spied her bike’s limp chain and nodded. So much for riding out of there – if Melanie even could have, which he doubted. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. We need to get you to an emergency room …”

  “Oh no, no, I don’t need …”

  “But first,” he interrupted, “let me take a look at that ankle.” He did his best to recall his college first-aid training. “I don’t think you twisted it, but you’ve got a nasty abrasion on one side.”

  She moaned.

  “You okay?” he asked and gently set her ankle back down.

  “No, I’m not okay – it hurts like blazes!”

  “And it’s going to keep on hurting until we get it taken care of.” He stood, taking his cell phone out of his jacket pocket.

  “What are you doing?” she asked. “Don’t tell me you’re calling an ambulance.”

  “I’m checking to see where we are first,” he said with a reassuring smile.

  “Don’t call one, I don’t need it,” she said stubbornly and tried to climb to her feet. She didn’t succeed. “Yowww …”

  Tate gently eased her down again. “Stop it – stay still. What do you think you’re going to do, hop on one foot out of this park?”

  She growled forlornly in reply.

  He studied the map on his phone – great, they were smack dab in the middle of the park. He studied their surroundings. They’d left the main bike/walking trail to explore one of the many side paths. “Doesn’t anyone else ride through here?”

  She glanced around. “Not today, it seems.”

  “Just the terrorist squirrels.” He grinned at her, making up his mind. “Well, that leaves only one thing to do.”

  “What, carry me out?” she said almost mockingly.

  “Exactly.”

  “What?!”

  Before she could protest further, Tate got an arm around her, the other under, and lifted her up as he stood. “It’d help if you held onto me.”

  She swallowed hard, eyes round as a newborn calf’s.

  “I don’t bite,” he reassured.

  She shivered, and he wondered if she was going into shock. Surely she wasn’t that bad off? “Hang on to me, honey – I’ve got to get you out of here,” he gently ordered.

  She complied, her breathing a little erratic and Tate hastened them away from the two-wheeled wreckage. “What about the bikes?” she asked.

  “Forget about the bikes. What’s more important, you or them?”

  She stared at him, eyes still wide, and swallowed again. “What about the squirrel?”

  He smiled at her as his shoulders shook with silent laughter. “Like you said, he’d better have a good lawyer.”

  * * *

  It was all Melanie could do not to screech in pain, but she’d done enough of that already and didn’t want Tate to think she was some helpless female that needed rescuing. Even though that was exactly what she was at the moment.

  After about ten minutes they came across a bench and Tate went straight to it. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “No. You must be tired.”

  He sat, but didn’t let her go. “Good. You okay?”

  “My ankle’s awful, but the rest of me’s fine. You?”

  “I need some water.”

  “I’m afraid our water bottles are still on the bikes.”

  “Rats.” He glanced around. “Well, no rest for the wicked.” He scooted to the end of the bench and stood, lifting her with him.

  “Aren’t you tired?” she asked in astonishment.

  “Doesn’t matter. That ankle needs to be cleaned and dressed.” He walked another fifty feet to a water fountain. “And we both need water. Now keep your arms around me – don’t let go.” Before she could say a word, he gently set her down.

  Her good foot touched the ground as sh
e held her other leg up. She was afraid to put any weight on it, even if it wasn’t twisted – it still throbbed and stung. She’d only seen the side the bicycle pedal hit – she had yet to see the side that had slid along the sand and gravel.

  “Yes, the cavalry’s here!” Tate suddenly blurted.

  Melanie, her mind fogged by the pain in her ankle and the closeness of Tate, stared at the police car in a stupor. “Oh yeah … they patrol the park on some of the trails,” she said absently.

  Tate waved the car over. “Hang onto the water fountain, honey – that’s it, balance yourself. Okay.” He let go of her and headed for the cruiser. She stayed put as he spoke with the two police officers. His voice was so tender, so concerned it made her heart melt despite the pain.

  Both officers got out of the vehicle and came over. “Took a tumble, I hear?” one asked with a smile.

  “Afraid so,” she said tightly, feeling dizzy again.

  Tate must have seen her waver – he was at her side in an instant. “Whoa there. Let’s get you to the car, okay?” He took her in his arms again and relocated her to the back seat of the police car, keeping his arm around her as they waited for an ambulance. He was warm and smelled faintly of hay and aftershave. His shoulders seemed even wider now that she was so close to him. He had a strong jaw, a broad chest. She felt her stomach flutter, then flop …

  … and then she threw up on him.

  “Whoa!” he exclaimed in surprise, though he didn’t move. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he assured her, his voice still gentle.

  “I’m so sorry!” she cried. “Oh, ick! Sorry!”

  “It’s okay, baby, no worries, you’re okay. You still sick?”

  “Everything okay?” one of the officers asked as he peeked into the car, then froze. “Oh. I guess not.”

  Melanie had never felt so mortified in her life – it was like being stabbed through the heart. “I’m so sorry. It just came…”

  “It does that sometimes,” Tate said. “It’s your ankle, sweetie. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

  “Oh geez … so sorry …”

  The officer handed Tate a blue rag, and he started to clean up the mess. Melanie did her best to scoot across the seat, suddenly conscious of the smell, and put a hand over her mouth. “So sorry,” she managed, feeling the need to say it again.