blackberries. Sometimes he felt silly having such long hair, but his contracts called for it. No wig, no extensions, just lots of real hair.
“I guess you did all this because you think you can. You own the place, plus you’re a movie star, so you can walk into someone’s home and steal her food. Is that what was in your mind?”
When Tate backed into a stool, he sat down.
Casey glared at the ruffle-edged pie plate. It was an Emile Henri, and her mother had given it to her for her eighteenth birthday. Last night she’d put her favorite pie in it, but now it was nearly empty. Just a piece of crust clung to the bottom. “I promised Josh and Kit some of that pie, but now it’s gone.” She looked back at him as he sat there in silence, watching her. “This morning I felt really bad about what happened. I should have told you I was there as soon as I saw you strip naked. But I didn’t.”
Tate raised his eyebrows.
“I sat there and watched you and later I was prepared to lie about it. I was so afraid that you’d throw me out of my house that I planned to deny being where I was and seeing what I did.” Her motion included his entire body.
“But I can’t take this,” she said. “I have to have privacy.” She went to a far cabinet and opened an overhead door, but the two big plastic pie carriers were at the top. She stretched but couldn’t reach them.
Tate’s arm went over her head, pulled the containers out, and set them on the counter.
“Thanks,” she said, then corrected herself. “I mean, no thanks. I don’t need your help. Look at these things. They were made to hold
six
pies. Six! But now I have only five of them.”
Tate went back to sit on the stool.
Casey began putting the pies in the carriers and loudly snapping the clasps. “Okay, I will leave. Since you believe that ownership and your…what? Celebrityship—if that’s a word. No! Entitlement. That’s what it is. Your sense of entitlement allows you to shower on my back porch and wander in and eat what I’ve cooked for other people. Since I can
not
live with that, I must leave. Where I’m going to find a house with a decent kitchen so I can cook for Jack, I don’t know.”
“Jack?” Tate asked.
“Yes.” She glared at him. “While you were wandering about the grounds in your birthday suit, Jack and I became friends.” She gave him a look of triumph.
Tate seemed surprised—and very interested.
“Get your mind out of the gutter. Friends! That’s what Jack and I are. Not that it’s any of your business, but Jack is falling for Gisele Nolan. But then, that’s understandable considering that she’s so beautiful.” Casey waved her hand. “Not that anything in Summer Hill interests a big movie star like you, but anyway, your friend is going to spend the summer here so he can play Bingley. And Gizzy will be Jane. Jack is going to live in your big, unused house, and I’m going to cook for him. It would have been perfect since I live close by, but now you’ve ruined everything. Can you drive?”
Tate’s eyebrows were high on his forehead as he gave a single nod.
She took the truck keys off the counter and tossed them to him. “Good. Get what’s left of the pies and put them in the truck, then drive us to the auditions. I don’t know why he’d want you, but Kit expects you to be there.”
Casey, still so angry she could hardly see, got into the passenger seat and slammed the door. When Tate got in beside her, she said, “I’d ride in the back but it’s illegal.” She looked out the windshield. “Please tell me that isn’t your shirt hanging from my roof!”
Tate bent forward to look up. His blue plaid shirt was still caught in the gutter, waving in the breeze. He got out, grabbed the tip of it, pulled it down, and got back into the truck.
Casey’s teeth were clamped together. “Were you in my bedroom?”
Tate was looking at his shirt. There was a big hole in the front. “Do you know how to sew on a
“I guess you did all this because you think you can. You own the place, plus you’re a movie star, so you can walk into someone’s home and steal her food. Is that what was in your mind?”
When Tate backed into a stool, he sat down.
Casey glared at the ruffle-edged pie plate. It was an Emile Henri, and her mother had given it to her for her eighteenth birthday. Last night she’d put her favorite pie in it, but now it was nearly empty. Just a piece of crust clung to the bottom. “I promised Josh and Kit some of that pie, but now it’s gone.” She looked back at him as he sat there in silence, watching her. “This morning I felt really bad about what happened. I should have told you I was there as soon as I saw you strip naked. But I didn’t.”
Tate raised his eyebrows.
“I sat there and watched you and later I was prepared to lie about it. I was so afraid that you’d throw me out of my house that I planned to deny being where I was and seeing what I did.” Her motion included his entire body.
“But I can’t take this,” she said. “I have to have privacy.” She went to a far cabinet and opened an overhead door, but the two big plastic pie carriers were at the top. She stretched but couldn’t reach them.
Tate’s arm went over her head, pulled the containers out, and set them on the counter.
“Thanks,” she said, then corrected herself. “I mean, no thanks. I don’t need your help. Look at these things. They were made to hold
six
pies. Six! But now I have only five of them.”
Tate went back to sit on the stool.
Casey began putting the pies in the carriers and loudly snapping the clasps. “Okay, I will leave. Since you believe that ownership and your…what? Celebrityship—if that’s a word. No! Entitlement. That’s what it is. Your sense of entitlement allows you to shower on my back porch and wander in and eat what I’ve cooked for other people. Since I can
not
live with that, I must leave. Where I’m going to find a house with a decent kitchen so I can cook for Jack, I don’t know.”
“Jack?” Tate asked.
“Yes.” She glared at him. “While you were wandering about the grounds in your birthday suit, Jack and I became friends.” She gave him a look of triumph.
Tate seemed surprised—and very interested.
“Get your mind out of the gutter. Friends! That’s what Jack and I are. Not that it’s any of your business, but Jack is falling for Gisele Nolan. But then, that’s understandable considering that she’s so beautiful.” Casey waved her hand. “Not that anything in Summer Hill interests a big movie star like you, but anyway, your friend is going to spend the summer here so he can play Bingley. And Gizzy will be Jane. Jack is going to live in your big, unused house, and I’m going to cook for him. It would have been perfect since I live close by, but now you’ve ruined everything. Can you drive?”
Tate’s eyebrows were high on his forehead as he gave a single nod.
She took the truck keys off the counter and tossed them to him. “Good. Get what’s left of the pies and put them in the truck, then drive us to the auditions. I don’t know why he’d want you, but Kit expects you to be there.”
Casey, still so angry she could hardly see, got into the passenger seat and slammed the door. When Tate got in beside her, she said, “I’d ride in the back but it’s illegal.” She looked out the windshield. “Please tell me that isn’t your shirt hanging from my roof!”
Tate bent forward to look up. His blue plaid shirt was still caught in the gutter, waving in the breeze. He got out, grabbed the tip of it, pulled it down, and got back into the truck.
Casey’s teeth were clamped together. “Were you in my bedroom?”
Tate was looking at his shirt. There was a big hole in the front. “Do you know how to sew on a
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