Tate (Cowboys & Debutantes: Contemporary Book 4)

by Kit Morgan

  “Don’t be, that’s normal. You should have seen me when I broke my leg.”

  “You broke your leg?” she asked, hand still over her mouth.

  “Yeah. Got run over by a bull.”

  “A bull?” the officer said. Melanie had forgotten he was there.

  “Yep. I was twelve and trying to learn how to wrestle a steer.” He shrugged. “I picked the wrong steer.”

  She laughed into her hand. “I guess you did.”

  “Worst pain I ever felt. Puking at least took my mind off it.”

  She closed her eyes, understanding what he meant but not wanting to throw up again. Through her eyelids she saw flashing red lights – the ambulance had arrived. And soon she was being helped out of the police car and onto a stretcher, still arguing that she didn’t need to go to a hospital.

  Tate would have none of it. After she was loaded into the ambulance amidst more questions and the stares of onlookers (now the other bikers come by!), he spoke with the officers a moment then hopped into the back of the ambulance with her. “What did you tell them?” she asked.

  “I told them where the bikes were and could they please return them to a city bike stand.”

  “But the chain’s broken on mine.”

  “They’ll fix it – right now we need to worry about fixing you.” He turned to the EMT. “How is it?”

  “She’ll need antibiotics – that’s a deep abrasion. Hard to tell about the rest until they do some X-rays.”

  Melanie cringed. She had a photo shoot tomorrow – one she’d put off once already because Cassandra had bailed on her. “But I can go home tonight, right?”

  “We’ll see. The doctors will want to make sure that bicycle pedal didn’t fracture your ankle when it landed on you.”

  “Great,” Melanie groaned, throwing her arm over her face.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get home,” Tate told her.

  She lifted her arm and smiled at him. “Thanks. ‘Preciate it.” She let it fall again and tried to ignore the pain.

  It didn’t take long before she and Tate were in the ER at Methodist Hospital. It also didn’t take long for her to realize that keeping her distance from Tate would be a lot harder than she’d thought. He was attentive as a mother hen, and wasn’t even bothered that she’d puked on him earlier. He brought her water, got her candy from a vending machine while they waited, even read her jokes out of an old Reader’s Digest in the waiting area.

  Melanie had to agree with her nagging conscience on this one: she never should have said yes to that bike ride.

  Chapter 6

  Melanie’s brain registered a sound in the distance. She opened one eye, then the other. Her cell phone alarm was going off. She grabbed her phone and stuck it under the pillow, then realized she hadn’t turned it off.

  Melanie, you idiot …

  “You’re not helping,” she told her conscience. She switched off the alarm, put her phone back on the nightstand, then stared at the ceiling. “Ow.” Her ankle throbbed every time she moved. It was horribly bruised on one side with a nasty abrasion on the other. Good thing Tate was there when she crashed or she’d never have made it out of the park. Well, that wasn’t true – someone was bound to have come along and found her. But having Tate come to her rescue was much nicer.

  Except when she threw up on him – that wasn’t so nice, though he took it all in stride. And of course, she wouldn’t have been in the park to crash had he not invited her.

  She gingerly got out of bed, grabbed the crutches the hospital gave her, headed to the bathroom … and her phone rang. “Go away,” she grumbled while checking her tired reflection in the mirror. She took care of her morning business and returned to the bed. She still had a photo shoot today, and while she wasn’t sure how she’d pull it off, work was work and she didn’t dare get behind.

  Wait – maybe that was someone calling about her social media shout-out for an assistant for the day. Cassandra had backed out – again – and Nat was also busy with her own work. She looked at her phone. “Tate,” she said softly as she touched the call-back icon.

  “Hey, Mel – how are you feeling?”

  His voice was bright yet concerned. It made her heart melt. “Awake. At least I’ve got that going for me.”

  “Awake is good,” he chuckled. “Say, I was calling to check on you and ask if you’d like me to ride Georgie.”

  That took her by surprise – he was willing to take care of her horse? “Sure.”

  “I know you normally ride English, but I think I can handle it. Miss Williams decided she’d better give me a few lessons, though.”

  “Georgie would be good for that. He’s pretty gentle.”

  “Yes, I can tell. He’s a good horse. I’m looking forward to spending some time with him.”

  “Thanks, Tate – that’s very nice of you,” she said with a smile.

  “Think nothing of it. So are you resting up today?”

  She should be, especially considering he was going to take care of Georgie’s exercise for her. But … “Afraid not – I have a shoot later today.”

  “You’re working?” he said incredulously. “Are you out of your mind?”

  “Welcome to the world of self-employment. Don’t worry, I’ll manage.” She hoped it was true.

  “Not if I have anything to say about it,” he said sternly.

  His statement got her hackles up and made her insides turn to jelly simultaneously. “Tate, I’ll be fine.”

  “Who’s helping you – Cassandra?”

  “No one yet. Cassandra couldn’t – she’s… actually I’m not sure what she’s doing today. I just know she’s not available to work with me.”

  “I don’t think you should be on that ankle, Mel …”

  Melanie sighed. “Tate, it’s not broken, not even sprained. It’s just a bad bruise and…”

  “Painful,” he finished for her.

  She couldn’t argue with that. “I will manage.”

  “Without an assistant? Look, I don’t know a lot about what you do, but I know from what Casey’s told me that you do need a helper. What time’s your shoot?”

  “Two o’clock – why?”

  “Where?”

  Melanie shook her head. “Oh no. No. You are not…”

  “Got a better option?”

  “Tate …”

  “No arguing. If you have to work, you have to work, I get that – but you’re going to have help, even if it’s me. Not that I’ll be much help, but something’s better than nothing. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

  His offer was generous, and tempting. Sure, maybe someone would respond to her shout-out before the morning was gone. But if no one did, she’d have to cancel and she didn’t think this client would come back – it was a new designer, and the woman wanted her photos next week. She’d have to get the shoot done today to get them to her in time. “All right, I’ll let you help, unless I get a better offer.”

  “A better offer? You mean like someone who knows what they’re doing?”

  She laughed. “Something like that.”

  He laughed as well. “Then it’s settled. Give me your address and I’ll pick you up. Unless you work from home?”

  “No, I share studio space with another photographer.”

  They worked out the details, said their goodbyes and Melanie hung up. She then stared at her phone in wonder. “How did I just manage to end up spending more time with him?”

  * * *

  By the time Melanie and Tate got to the studio it was almost 1:30. He was late getting out of the stable, then had to figure out how to get to her place via the subway. But he made it, then gallantly helped her get to the curb and into a cab. Once at the studio he helped her inside, got her settled, then studied the place, hands on his hips. “So what do you want me to do first?”

  Melanie pushed herself up from her chair, grabbed her crutches and hobbled to a trunk. “You can help me set up the background. It’s half do
ne, but I need some of these draped over that curtain rod.”

  Tate looked at the backdrop. “Nice. Pretty.”

  “Thanks.” She pointed at the trunk. “There’s a long piece of pink silk in there – we’ll start with that.”

  Tate flipped the trunk open, pulled out what she needed and headed for the backdrop. He began draping the fabric, and Melanie giggled. “You’re a natural.”

  “I’ve got a sister who likes frou-frou stuff. Used to, anyway. What are you photographing?”

  “A mother-daughter line.” She sighed. “And my models are the designer and her daughter.”

  “Wow. How often does that happen?”

  “More often than you’d think. A lot of smaller designers model their own clothes to save costs. That’s why I didn’t want to cancel – not only does she want her photographs next week, but she’s heavily invested.”

  “No wonder you wanted to get this shoot in today. I don’t blame you.” He turned to her with a smile and a wink. “I’m glad I could help.”

  Melanie felt herself blush. “I’m glad too. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it, Tate.”

  “Glad to do it, Mel.” He looked at his handiwork then turned to her again. “Cassandra didn’t leave you hanging, did she?”

  Yes, and repeatedly, Melanie thought. But should she tell him that? “Um … like I said before, she had other things to do today.” Even though she’d informed Melanie before she got home from Paris that she would help with this shoot …

  He shook his head. “I don’t know what she has going on today either. I haven’t heard from her since the day before yesterday.”

  “That’s Cassandra for you,” Melanie said, returning to her chair. Cassandra could be fickle – he might as well know that. From the sounds of it, he was figuring it out anyway. “She’s like a butterfly, fluttering from flower to flower – you never know where she’ll land next.”

  His eyebrows rose as he smiled. “You got that right. But I’m getting used to it.”

  She did her best not to grit her teeth. Cassandra didn’t know what she had, and if she didn’t figure it out soon she’d let Tate slip away. If she was ready to settle down, Tate Sullivan would certainly make a good husband … but she wasn’t acting like she was ready.

  “Melanie!” a woman called from the hallway.

  Tate and Melanie turned to see a petite brunette with a four-year-old girl at her side. “Annie!” Melanie said. “Come in, come in. This must be Tiffany.”

  “Yes, it is.” Annie patted the girl on the head. “My husband’s bringing the baby – we’re all together today. But don’t worry, he won’t get in the way.”

  “No worries – they can sit over there in the corner while we work.” Melanie motioned to Tate. “Meet my assistant for the day, Tate Sullivan.”

  Annie looked him up and down and smiled. “Wow! Where did you find him?”

  “I’m right here, ladies,” Tate said dryly but with a smile. “It’s a long story. But we’re practically related.”

  Melanie’s heart sank. Her best friend might be married to his brother, but how did that make them “practically related”? At least this let her know how he viewed their relationship.

  “And how did that happen?” Annie asked.

  “Like he said, long story,” Melanie told her, not willing to explain further.

  “So Cassandra couldn’t work today?” Annie continued as her husband entered with a baby carrier. “Put him over there, will you, Ed? Then come meet Tate and Melanie.”

  Ed was tall and lean with receding brown hair and kind eyes. He and his wife were a few years older than Melanie. He set the baby carrier and diaper bag in the corner and crossed the room, a hand extended toward Tate. “Nice to meet you.” He shook his hand.

  “Nice to meet you, too,” Tate said.

  Ed glanced around the studio. “Nice. Good background.” He glanced at his wife. “The pink’ll make the white dresses really pop.”

  “Yes, it will.” She set down the large bag she’d carried in. “Will you fetch the rest of our stuff from the car, please?”

  “Sure, honey – be right back.” He smiled at Tate and Melanie, then hurried off.

  “Does your husband tag along often?” Tate asked.

  “He does quite a bit.” Annie bent to her daughter. “Tiffany, honey, do you want to put this over by your brother?” She handed her some white silk flowers she’d taken out of the bag. Her daughter obliged.

  “Did you want to get some shots with the baby?” Melanie asked.

  “If it’s all right. Do we have time?”

  Melanie glanced at Tate automatically, but for the life of her couldn’t figure out why. It’s not like she needed his permission to extend the shoot. “Of course.”

  “Unless Melanie’s ankle starts to give her trouble,” Tate added.

  Annie noted the crutches, then seemed to realize Melanie hadn’t gotten up from her chair. “What happened?”

  Melanie and Tate glanced at one another and said “squirrel” in unison, then burst out laughing.

  Annie laughed along with them. “What?”

  “They said squirrel, Mommy,” Tiffany said with a giggle.

  “That must’ve been a very bad squirrel,” Annie said.

  “Bad squirrel!” Tiffany declared.

  Melanie looked at Tate. “A really bad squirrel.”

  Tate smiled at her. “I’m still gonna sue him.”

  Melanie could only keep a straight face so long. She looked away, but lost it anyway and laughed again. “He’s right,” she said to Annie. “It was a really, really bad squirrel …”

  * * *

  After three hours and a lot of laughs, Melanie and Tate finished the shoot. Annie and her husband had such a good time they invited the two to dinner later in the week. Melanie was hesitant, but to her surprise Tate accepted for both of them.

  Now here they were, curbside at Annie and Ed’s apartment building in Chelsea, a neighborhood in the lower west side of Manhattan. Tate helped Melanie struggle out of the cab and onto the sidewalk. “I hope this building has an elevator,” she commented.

  “Looks modern enough,” Tate commented as he paid the driver. The cab pulled away and Tate came back to her, looking worried. “I hope this isn’t going to tire you out. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She closed her eyes, savoring the concern in his voice. Every time she heard it, a little piece of her heart hopped over to him, like jumping a fence. If too much more of her gravitated to his side of that fence, she wasn’t sure she could stand it. “I’m fine. Let’s go inside.”

  A doorman greeted them – calm, cool and collected. Nothing like Bernard. He did, however, guide them to the elevators, so it was enough.

  Upstairs in the apartment, they were given the grand tour, including the children’s room where Tiffany took over. She showed them each stuffed animal and toy, quickly naming them in succession. “Wow, you have a whole zoo!” Tate said with a laugh.

  His arm brushed Melanie’s as they retreated toward the living room, and a jolt of peace and longing shot through her, but she did her best to ignore it. “Thanks for the tour, Tiffany,” she said instead.

  “You’re welcome. I had to do it.”

  “Had to?” Tate put a hand on Melanie’s shoulder, increasing the longing tenfold.

  “My little brother can’t show you. He can’t talk yet.”

  Everyone laughed and headed down the hall. Conversation began once everyone was settled – Melanie and Annie talked about the shoot and future work together, while Tate and Ed gabbed about – what else? – baseball. Melanie watched Tate laugh and joke, as well as observing Annie’s children. “How do you do it?” she finally asked.

  “Do what?” said Annie.

  Melanie watched Tiffany try to put a sock on Ed Jr.’s foot. “Have it all.”

  Annie followed her gaze. “Oh – family, career, that sort of thing?”

  Melanie nodded.

  “Well …”
Annie glanced between Melanie and Tate. “… we spend a lot of time together. We both work from home, which helps. We’re not apart unless we want to be. And my mother helps with the kids when we need alone time.”

  Melanie smiled. “It must be nice.”

  “It is,” Annie commented, glancing at Tate again. “He’s a nice one.”

  Melanie looked at him too and sighed. “Yeah, he is.”

  Annie leaned toward her. “Then why don’t you go for it?” she whispered.

  Melanie half-laughed. “Because he’s dating someone else.”

  Annie leaned back. “Too bad. The two of you seem perfect for each other.”

  Melanie did her best not to cringe – or cry. “Yeah, I know.”

  Chapter 7

  Melanie did her best to avoid Tate the next few days, but guilt compelled her to return his phone calls. Maybe her conscience was schizophrenic …

  “There you are!” came the happy greeting on the other end of the line.

  “Hi,” she said. “Sorry – been busy.” Which was true – she’d been editing Annie’s photos. They’d turned out wonderfully, some of the best she’d ever done.

  “Not a problem. I just wanted to let you know that Georgie’s doing fine. I’ve been taking good care of him.”

  She smiled at that. “Thanks. I knew you would.”

  “Are you free later?”

  The question took her by surprise. “Why?”

  “Just wondering if you’d help me pick something out for Cassandra. Remember, I suck at this.”

  She rolled her eyes. But then, what could she expect? She was just making herself miserable – she needed to either stop having contact with Tate or get it through her head that they would just be friends. “All right.”

  “Great. Can I come by and get you when I’m off work?”

  Melanie did a mental run-through of her own workday. “What time?”

  “About five?”

  She fought back a sigh. “Works for me.”

  “Perfect. Stay clear of the squirrels!” He hung up.