The Girl From Summer Hill (Summer Hill 1)

“Would you please open the bottle of wine by the sink? You wouldn’t know what happened to my wineglass from last night, would you? It’s part of a set that was a gift.”

“No, I don’t. It was on the table when I left. You were sleeping so peacefully that I didn’t dare wake you, and besides, I was hurrying out the front to escape Tate’s wrath. You don’t think he— No, no, of course not. He’s not a thief. Now I realize that I should have stayed here to protect you.”

Casey was stirring the glaze and frowning. “He was in my bedroom yesterday and I think he was chasing a peacock out. Kit said—”

Devlin gave a derisive snort. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

Casey began to plate the food. “Why don’t we sit down and have our meal and not so much as mention Tate Landers?”

“I’d love to do that. It’s just that usually, when people hear who my ex-brother-in-law is, he’s all they want to talk about.” He held out a chair for her.

“Not me,” Casey said.

“I’m very glad to hear that.” He smiled so warmly that she couldn’t help returning it.

When Tate showed up with Gizzy and Jack, Casey knew she shouldn’t be surprised, but she was. He stood there looking at her, his eyes a bit sad.

“If you don’t want me here I’ll leave,” he said. “But Kit called and said you might need a couple of men, so here I am.”

“Tate got us a bigger truck.” Gizzy was encouraging.

The three of them were lined up and staring at Casey in a way that made her feel like the Bad Parent. “Cut it out!” she said. “All three of you! I’m sure it’s too much to hope that any of you have eaten. No? I thought not. Get the coolers.”

Grinning, Gizzy and Jack went toward the Big House. “I told you she’d have breakfast for us,” Gizzy said. “Food surrounds Casey like mosquitoes in a swamp.”

Tate stayed where he was, watching her. “I’m serious. If you can’t stand a day around me, I’ll go. Jack is quite capable of doing whatever you need.”

She turned to face him. “Did you get a peacock out of my house?”

“Yes.” There was a bit of a smile on his face.

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“I felt bad about the pie, and it was kind of nice to be thought of as a villain. Always playing the hero gets tiresome. I shouldn’t admit it, but throwing women across saddles is exhausting.”

Casey didn’t laugh. “I guess I owe you some food. As for today, what are we going to do when you’re recognized by squealing girls?”

“I brought a fake mustache and a baseball cap. And I figure that if I keep my clothes on, even my most rabid fans won’t recognize me.”

At the memory of their first meeting, the blood rushed to her face. His smile showed that he’d seen her blush—and he enjoyed it.

“What about Jack? Doesn’t he need a disguise?”

“Fewer people…”

“Oh, I see. His movies have a select clientele, while yours are seen by the masses.”

“Except for you.” He looked at her for a moment. “I better go help Jack with the coolers. He’s a puny little thing, and I’d hate for him to collapse under the weight.”

Casey went back into her house. After Devlin left, she’d stayed up until midnight making apple cranberry muffins, and she’d put ingredients into her bread machine and set the timer. This morning she’d boiled eggs and made crêpes and packed everything.

“We’re ready if you are,” Tate said from outside the screen door. “When does the sale start?”

“Ten, but they open for previewing at eight. My sister sent me a long list of items that we need to buy. Could you get this box? It’s full of ropes and bungee cords so we can tie things down.”

Tate didn’t move, just stood there.

“If you’d rather not carry it, I can,” she said stiffly.