Kiss Me, Tate (Love in Rustic Woods)

by Karen Cantwell

  Willow and Charlie smiled for the camera, and after Tate clicked, Charlie gave her a wave. “Come on in, Mom.”

  Tate spun around. His face lit up with a wide smile. His brown eyes locked on hers. Bunny caught the hint of hesitation in his voice. “Hi.”

  It was easy to get lost in those eyes, which was why she offered a quick, “hi” before focusing on Charlie and Willow. Nervously, she tucked stray strands of hair behind her ear.

  “I’m glad you came,” Tate said.

  That was good, she thought. He was glad she came. He didn’t spit on her or tell her to get her pictures and get out. He was glad she came. She nodded a little, relieved. “How’s your father doing? I’ve been thinking of him.”

  “You know, he has his good days and his bad days, but he’s not as cranky. He and Samuel are actually getting along.”

  “I’m glad.” That annoying hair kept falling in her face. She tucked it behind her ear again. “Well, I guess I should get snapping, huh?” She took a few steps closer, landing next to Tate, but making sure not to stand too close. Despite her attempts to keep a decent distance, she swore she could still feel warmth radiating from him. She knew it was just her imagination, but she had trouble concentrating anyway.

  She lifted her small, digital camera. It paled in comparison to Tate’s large, professional looking apparatus. After framing them in the shot and pressing the auto-focus feature, she shouted, “Say cheese doodles!”

  Willow’s resulting laugh was perfect for Bunny’s shot, only nothing happened when she pressed the shutter button. Well, something happened: the camera powered off.

  “Noodles!” she swore.

  “You mean, doodles?” Tate said, smiling.

  Bunny pressed the tiny power button. Nothing. “No, I mean, noodles. My camera shut down.” She pressed the power button again. Wait for it. Nothing. Again. Nothing. She felt her face flushing, knowing Tate’s eyes were on her, watching her every silly, ridiculous move.

  “What’s wrong, Mom?” Charlie asked her, his arm still around Willow’s waist.

  “It shut down, and I can’t get it back on.”

  “Did you charge the battery?”

  “Yes, Charlie. I’m not an idiot.”

  “Do you want me to take a look at it?” Tate asked.

  She heaved a sigh. “Sure.” As he took it from her, their fingers brushed. Even the tiniest feel of his skin against hers caused a tingle to rippled across every nerve in her body.

  She watched as Tate pushed the power button the same way she had, then flip open the battery bay, eject the battery, re-insert, and try the power button again. Her shoulders dropped. She couldn’t believe her luck.

  “It’s dead, alright,” Tate said, handing the camera back to Bunny. “But I’ll just send you these.” Before she knew it, he was next to her, his arm touching hers, and positioning the large display on his own camera for her to see the photographs he had already shot.

  They were ten times better than anything she would have managed with her own anyway. Tate pressed an arrow and the stunning pictures scrolled by on the display. Okay, there was one with Charlie’s eyes half-closed, but other than that, they were all spectacular. And even more spectacular than the pictures was Tate’s breath on her shoulders and in her ear. She felt her knees go a bit weak and her heart rate kick up a notch.

  “Those are great,” she said. “You’re better than some professionals I’ve seen.”

  “He’s taken tons of photography courses,” Willow said.

  “Let me take a couple of you and Charlie,” Tate suggested.

  “No, no,” she protested. “This is their day.”

  Willow stepped away from Charlie. “Great idea! Come here.” She waved Bunny over.

  Bunny had primped quite a long time before arriving, it was true. She was certainly photo-ready. She just wasn’t sure she could look natural with Tate scrutinizing her through his telephoto lens.

  Trying to appear relaxed, she patted the sweat from her palms onto her cotton capri pants while stepping up to her handsome son and hooking an arm around his waist. She thanked her lucky stars that the pants were navy blue and wouldn’t show the wet spot from her hands. She tried for a natural smile that didn’t reveal her nerves.

  Tate took shots of them from a couple of different angles. Bunny’s cheeks began to cramp. She was greatly relieved when he stopped and Charlie said, “I think we should get going. Our dinner reservations are for six thirty.”

  Bunny had never heard her son worry about being prompt before, and she imagined he was more interested in being alone with his date. The thought caused her to smile again, and she jumped when the camera flashed.

  “Sorry,” Tate said, grinning. “Had to catch that smile.”

  Was he flirting with her?

  Willow jumped up on her tip toes to plant a kiss on Tate’s cheek. He returned the gesture with a hug. “Have a good time you two. Home by two, right?”

  “Right,” agreed Charlie.

  Bunny and Tate turned at the same time, watching their children walk away. Once they were out of sight, Bunny knew she needed to make her own exit, although she hoped, with the friendly smiles and possible flirtations, that Tate would stop her.

  When she turned around to say good-bye, Tate was holding a red rose and looking into her eyes.

  “I was an asshole,” he said.

  She would have said something in return except a lump had materialized in her throat as she fought back tears.

  He leaned forward. “That’s kind of my way of saying, I’m sorry.”

  “Okay.” Her voice was weak. “I’m sorry too.”

  “You don’t to be sorry for anything. You’ve been nothing but generous and kind. If I had been outside of myself watching me talking to you like that, I would have punched my lights out.”

  She laughed. “I’d pay to see that trick.”

  “I always said I wouldn’t be like Morton, but it turns out that I really am. I shut people out.”

  “I don’t think he’s a bad person, and I know you aren’t.”

  “I was really hoping you would come tonight. Actually, I planned on it.”

  “You did?”

  “I made dinner. Can you stay?”

  Yes, yes, yes! “I suppose.” She took the rose from him and sniffed its aroma.

  With his large camera still in his left hand, Tate took several long steps to his front door and opened it for her, motioning for her to enter. Even his simple movements sent delightful shivers up and down her arms. She followed his lead and as she passed him, she couldn’t help but reach out, squeezing his hand with hers.

  So many thoughts went into the single squeeze. She wondered if he understood even a millionth of them.

  He returned the squeeze as she entered his house. He closed the door behind her.

  “Okay,” he said, placing his camera on the credenza near the door. “Wait right here. Just for a minute.”

  She breathed in the aroma of basil and spices. “Smells amazing. I didn’t know you were a cook.”

  He smiled. “You’re smelling one of about two dishes I do well.” He put his hands up to motion her to stay put. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Tate slipped through the passageway that led to his dining room while Bunny fiddled nervously with the camera in her hand. She decided to place the broken thing on the credenza next to Tate’s as she listened to the sounds of things clinking from the dining room.

  Her hands had gone from sweaty to ice cold and her toes were feeling a little icy as well. She was beginning to regret wearing the stylish flip flops.

  “Okay,” she heard Tate call out. “You can come in!” His tone was uncharacteristically playful.

  When she entered the room, her breath stuck somewhere between her lungs and her throat. Tate had dimmed the sconce lights on the wall and lit a pair of tall white candles. The table was set for two and covered in rose petals. The flickering candlelight reflected in Tate’s eyes, and if that wasn’t enough
to melt her heart, the corsage in his hand finished her off.

  Taking her hand and pulling her close, he slipped it over and onto her wrist, then gently pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. “There’s more.”

  Bunny didn’t need more. She had all she wanted right there, right now.

  Tate pulled a remote from his back pocket, pressed a button, and set it down on the table. He pulled her to him with his hand pressed against the small of her back. He looked into her eyes, assuring her that she was the only one for him in all of the world.

  “More Than Words” began to play from speakers somewhere around them. When they had danced to this song at their own prom, Bunny hadn’t known if Tate knew her from the piece of gum on his shoe.

  Now, so many years later, she was locked in his arms, and his eyes were on her. It wasn’t a dream, and it wasn’t just a memory anymore either. “You remembered?” she asked.

  “You’re not an easy person to forget.” He moved in a slow rhythm, pressed against her, and she followed. “It feels right, dancing with you again.

  “Listen,” he said, pulling her hand to his chest, as they swayed gently. “I’m not the most talkative guy, and I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve or share things easily. And it’s been a long, long time since I’ve...I mean, since someone has...” he stopped and laughed a little. “I had this rehearsed, you know. Had a little speech all prepared.”

  She shook her head lightly. “It’s okay. I don’t need the speech.” The feel of his warm breath on her lips made her head light.

  “But I need to say it. I am crazy, crazy in love with you. And I do want you in my life. Every part of it.” His hands tightened on the small of her back, igniting an explosion of desire. “And,” he said rubbing her nose with his, “I want to know all about your foot.”

  She laughed. “What?”

  “I want to know why Barbara Marr shot you in the foot,” he said.

  “Oh. That’s a long story.”

  “We both keep saying that.” He stroked the small of her back with his thumb.

  “Time to start talking then, I guess, huh?” The gentle sway of their slow dance, and the closeness of their bodies made Bunny ache.

  “Yeah,” he agreed.

  “But before we talk, would you...”

  “Would I what?”

  “Would you kiss me, Tate?”

  “Oh, you did not just say that.” He grinned, minimizing what little space remained between their faces.

  She laughed again. “I couldn’t resist.”

  “You want a kiss?” he asked. “You mean, like this?” He touched her lips lightly The tease made her shiver. Then he pressed tighter, opening his mouth to taste her more fully, still swaying, moving her body with his, the rhythm of the song guiding them both.

  Yes, she thought, just like that.

  Eventually they would make the time to talk, and they’d learn all they needed to know about each other.

  But that kiss...

  That kiss told her more than words could ever say.

  THE END

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Karen Cantwell lives and in Virginia just outside of Washington, D.C. When she’s not writing or tending to the needs of her wonderful family, she can be found working in her garden or relaxing on the couch watching a favorite classic movie.

  Kiss Me, Tate is the first book in the new Love in Rustic Woods Series, a romantic spin-off from her popular Barbara Marr Murder Mysteries.

  If you’d like to receive email notifications about future Karen Cantwell releases, please subscribe to her newsletter here. Your email address will never be shared or bombarded with frivolous junk. You may unsubscribe any time.

  Karen loves to hear from readers! For her email address and to learn more about Karen and her books, find her at KarenCantwell.com.

  MORE BOOKS BY KAREN CANTWELL

  Would you like to read more about Bunny Bergen and her friend Barbara Marr? Try the Barbara Marr Murder Mystery Series:

  Take the Monkeys and Run (A Barbara Marr Murder Mystery #1)

  Citizen Insane (A Barbara Marr Murder Mystery #2)

  Silenced by the Yams (A Barbara Marr Murder Mystery #3)

  Saturday Night Cleaver (A Barbara Marr Murder Mystery #4)

  Dead Man Stalking (A Barbara Marr Murder Mystery #5)—Nov. 2013 release

  The Chronicles of Marr-nia (Four Barbara Marr Short Stories)

  It’s a Dunder-Bull Wife (A Barbara Marr Holiday Tale)

  Bjorn! on the Fourth of July (A Barbara Marr Short Story)

  Keep Me Ghosted (A Sophie Rhodes Ghostly Romance #1)

  IF YOU LIKED KISS ME, TATE...

  Independent writers can only survive and flourish with the help of readers. If you like what you’ve read, please consider reviewing Kiss Me, Tate on Amazon.com. Just three or four short sentences are all it takes to make a huge difference. Thank you.

  If you’d like to receive email notifications about future Karen Cantwell releases, please subscribe to her newsletter here. Your email address will never be shared or bombarded with frivolous junk. You may unsubscribe any time.

  Karen loves to hear from readers! For her email address and to learn more about Karen and her books, find her at KarenCantwell.com.