The big bird suddenly put its magnificent tail up in a glorious circle—and pecked Casey’s hand hard.
“Ow! That hurt!” There was blood on her hand. “I think—”
Tate didn’t give her time to say any more because the peacock, its five-foot tail flashing in the sunlight, was going after Casey.
With the expertise of having done it in many movies, Tate threw her over his shoulder and began to run, the peacock on his heels.
Casey lifted her head enough to see the bird. “He’s gaining on us. Run faster!”
“You sound like my last director.” He swerved around two tree stumps, brushed tree branches out of his face, and jumped over a fallen log.
“I could walk, you know,” Casey said, but Tate ran a caressing hand over her curvy rear end, which was right by his ear. “Actually, I think my ankle is broken and I may never walk again.”
Tate laughed. “Is he still charging us?”
“Oh, yeah. You think that tail is up for you or me? You’re by far the prettier one.”
Tate sat her down with a thunk on the seat of the little truck and kissed her quickly. “He wants you. You look and feel and taste like a girl.” He said it with such a leer that Casey came close to giggling.
Tate started to run around the front, but the peacock pecked his ankle, so he climbed over Casey—with lots of hand–body contact—into the driver’s side, started the engine, and drove as fast as the vehicle could go.
She was watching out the back. “You outran him.”
He slowed down the truck, looked at Casey, and they burst into laughter.
“Hello,” Olivia said.
Casey was putting buckets and mixing bowls in the utility truck. After she and Tate got back, she’d asked to borrow the truck so she could try to find where fruit was growing. He’d warned her to watch out for the livestock, then they’d kissed goodbye, and he’d run to the Big House and the trainer.
“Enjoying your day off?”
The thought of just how much she’d been enjoying the day sent blood rushing to Casey’s face. “So far, it’s been one of the best days of my life. What about you?”
Olivia smiled. “I take it you spent the morning with the master of the plantation.”
“I did,” she said.
“Judging by the new scratches on your forearms, I’d say that you were at the back of the property.”
Casey looked at her in shock. “I forget that you grew up in Summer Hill. Did you spend a lot of time on Tattwell?”
“In the summer of 1970, I was the housekeeper for Uncle Freddy. He wasn’t my uncle, but everyone called him that. What are you doing with all these containers?”
“I’m going to search for food. Tate drove us around this morning and I saw several possibilities. It’s early in the season, but I think there are a few things I can preserve. You wouldn’t like to go with me, would you?”
“I’d love to.”
As they got into the little truck, Casey focused on Olivia. She wasn’t sure, but she thought maybe she’d been crying. “Everything okay at home?”
“Fine,” Olivia said. “Did you check the cherry trees? A few of them used to bear fruit very early.”
“Tell me where they are.”
Olivia gave directions and Casey drove.
“It’s changed so much since I was here,” Olivia said. “All of this used to be beautifully kept. Uncle Freddy gave jobs to so many people in Summer Hill—which is probably why he died broke.”
There was a sadness in her voice that made Casey frown. Earlier, Casey had been so happy that she called her mother to tell her everything—well, maybe not all of it. Her mother had been delivering a baby, though, and couldn’t talk.