Kiss Me, Tate (Love in Rustic Woods) Read online

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  More Books by Karen Cantwell

  If you liked Kiss Me, Tate...

  Kiss Me, Tate

  Copyright © 2013 by Karen Fraunfelder Cantwell. All rights reserved.

  First Kindle Edition: August 2013

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9896861-0-5 (Kindle)

  Cover and Formatting: Streetlight Graphics

  This eBook is licensed for the personal enjoyment of the original purchaser only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Special thanks go to the many people who have helped see this book to publication: Beth Balberchak and Misha Crews for their beta and proofreading; my family for putting up with me when I get a little stressed; the wonderful people at Streetlight Graphics for doing so much in a short amount of time; and last, but most importantly, to Maria E. Schneider, my friend and editor who worked tirelessly on such a tight deadline. You’re the greatest, Maria!

  “I see a woman may be made a fool, if she had not a spirit to resist.”

  —William Shakespeare, Taming of the Shrew

  CHAPTER ONE

  BUNNY BERGEN’S GREATEST WEAKNESS WAS her inability to see past people’s social veneers. Which was why she found herself standing with a cardboard box tucked under one arm and a severance check in her other hand, wondering what the heck had just happened.

  She’d been fired. Or rather, “let go” as Dr. Page, DDS, had said. He claimed he couldn’t afford her, but that was plain crazy. He barely paid her above minimum wage for a receptionist position that required far more than simply answering a phone, for crying out loud. And she was the only receptionist, which meant he’d need to find someone else for less pay pretty darn quick. No, it didn’t add up. Bunny might be naive, but she wasn’t stupid.

  As she balanced the box filled with personal items and dug for her car keys in her purse, Lois, the senior dental technician, hurried down the front walk of the Rustic Woods Medical Building. She stopped in front of Bunny, putting a fist to her hip. “He did it, huh?” The woman, easily ten years Bunny’s senior, looked at her watch. “What did he do, call you in early to give you the boot?”

  Bunny nodded, the memory of her termination episode knotting her stomach. “You knew?”

  “Let’s just say that I overheard some things.”

  “What things?”

  “Remember yesterday, when Broom Hildie was in?”

  Bunny deepened her frown. She didn’t care for the nickname the staff had given Dr. Page’s wife. It seemed awfully harsh given that the woman appeared perfectly cordial. Yet during her short, three-week stint at the dental practice, the technicians had shared rants more than once about ‘Broom Hildie’ Page. She thought back to the previous day and Mrs. Page’s lunchtime visit. She had smiled and shaken Bunny’s hand, introducing herself. Said how glad she was to meet her and that Dr. Page had mentioned many times how lucky he was to find someone as hard working and dedicated as Bunny. Nothing had seemed out of the ordinary to Bunny. She shook her head. “I don’t get it. She was nice. I was nice. What did I miss?”

  “She had an apoplectic fit outside when they left for lunch. She didn’t even wait to get to their car before she tore into him.”

  “About what?”

  “Your boobs.”

  “What?” Bunny covered her chest instinctively, mortified.

  “Said they were hanging out like you were having a two-for-one sale.”

  “They were not!” Bunny dipped her gaze and examined the guilty parties. It was true, she didn’t try to hide them. She preferred blouses that complemented the cleavage she inherited from Nana McDougal, but she sure as heck didn’t let them “hang out.” Plenty of respectable women wore flattering clothes. The accusation caused her face to flame.

  “It gets worse,” Lois said.

  Bunny didn’t know if she wanted to hear anything worse. Lois told her anyway. “She called you a skank.”

  The word hit Bunny like a punch to the stomach, making her nauseous. She’d been the subject of nasty rumors before, passed on by people who didn’t know her. People who judged her simply because she was attractive and chose to wear decidedly feminine attire. She didn’t need this kind of trauma in her life again. Taking a moment to steady her rage and fantasizing about punching Hildie Page in her puffed up, collagen-filled lips, she pressed her car fob and heard it unlock. With some clumsy maneuverings, she pried the door open and shoved the box into the back seat. Slamming the door loudly helped her vent some of the indignation, but certainly not all of it.

  Lois pulled something from her coat pocket. “Here.” She handed a folded piece of blue paper to Bunny. “I thought this might happen, and I know you need the work. They need a receptionist at the Nature Center, and they’re interviewing today. You should probably get over there as soon as possible.”

  Bunny took the paper with shaking hands.

  “I’m sorry,” Lois said. “I know it hurts, but I thought you should know.”

  Tears welled in Bunny’s eyes, but she fought them back. “It’s...” she gulped, not wanting Lois to see her break down. “It’s fine.” She waved the blue paper in the air while opening the driver’s side door. “Thank you for this.”

  Seated in her car with the heat running, Bunny pondered her dilemma. She should sue. Surely you couldn’t fire a person based on her neckline or on ridiculous lies spread by cranky wives. Waterworks began flowing at the thought. She would have to hire a lawyer, and lawyer’s fees were the reason she’d taken this ridiculously low-paying job in the first place. Fighting her ex-husband for custody of her two boys had nearly bankrupted her.

  After allowing herself a ten-Kleenex cry in her twenty-year-old, junk-yard-ready Ford, Bunny unfolded the paper and inspected it more carefully. Lois’ scrawl was nearly indecipherable, which didn’t matter, really. If she decided to rush over, red-rimmed eyes and all, she certainly knew her way to the Nature Center. Most people in Rustic Woods did, especially if they had children. Her own boys had attended summer camps and boy scout nature hikes there.

  The question was, did she want to
interview for the position at all? She didn’t have a resume with her or anything. Not that there was anything on the resume. The job with Dr. Page was her first real work experience outside of a summer internship with a fashion magazine between her junior and senior years in college. Not exactly a Nature Center sort of a background. And, technically, now she’d have to add her three-week stint at Dr. Page’s that ended in termination. Her cheeks cramped and water filled her eyes again. She yanked three more tissues from the box, grabbed her phone and dialed Barb for advice.

  Her friend picked up on the third ring, and Bunny started blubbering again, even before she could hear the “Hello.”

  “Bunny, what’s wrong? Has something happened?” Barb asked.

  Barbara Marr lived one street over from Bunny and was a rock as far as Bunny was concerned. They’d become friends during a very strange time in Bunny’s life, and the fact that Barb had tried to shoot her in the foot only increased her admiration for the woman. Barb had pulled the trigger to save Bunny’s life, after all.

  Bunny choked back sobs. “He fired me.”

  “The dentist? Why?”

  “My cleavage, apparently.”

  “This sounds like a discussion we should have over a glass of wine.”

  Bunny laughed over a sniffle. “It’s nine o’clock in the morning, Barb.”

  “Coffee then. Do you want to come over?”

  “I don’t know. One of the dental technicians told me about another job, but I need to go over right now.”

  “Another dentist office?”

  “No. The Nature Center.”

  “That’s great!”

  “You think?”

  “I do. You need a pep talk? I can meet you there.”

  Bunny sniffled some more. She didn’t deserve a friend as sweet as Barb. “Thanks. Can you bring—”

  “Getting a turtleneck from my closet right now,” Barb told her. “And a sweater for good measure.”

  Barb’s white minivan was already parked in the large graveled parking lot of the Rustic Woods Nature Center when Bunny pulled in, her cranky old car coughing and sputtering as she turned off the ignition.

  They met between the two cars. The curly-haired woman gave Bunny a tight hug that really did make her feel much better. “Thank you for coming. I’m still not sure about this, though.”

  “Pshaw,” said Barb. “You’ll go in there and wow their socks off. They’ll love you. Probably hire you on the spot. Now let’s get you interview-ready.”

  Bunny looked around. “Where?”

  Barb tugged hard to open the sliding van door. “My van. Hop in the back.”

  Bunny, despite her name, didn’t hop anywhere easily. She was a tall woman with some fairly long and lanky bones.

  Grinning, Barb handed her an emerald green turtleneck. “Green to match your eyes. No one will even notice your knockers. Speaking of which, you owe me a story while you’re dressing.”

  Doubtfully, Bunny wrangled herself into the back while trying to keep her black skirt from shimmying too high or her heels from flipping off her feet. Once inside, she breathed heavily, winded from the work-out involved. When spring arrived, she needed to put some serious effort into a plan for more exercise.

  Barb followed, slid the door closed, and scanned the parking lot through tinted windows. “I think you’re safe. Undress, and I’ll keep lookout.”

  Bunny unbuttoned her blouse while recounting her tale of woe, but grunted the story out less easily while trying to work her way into her friend’s turtleneck. Once she had one arm halfway on, she knew she was in trouble. It was tight. Very tight. “Lois said she called me a skank,” she said, more or less finishing her story. “What size is this?”

  “Medium. A skank? Based on what?”

  “I don’t know.” Bunny contorted this way and that, attempting to get the thing over her head and down over her bodice. “Medium, huh?”

  “What size do you usually wear?”

  “Not a medium.” Bunny pulled and yanked and shimmied. Finally, she had the turtleneck in place. Well, sort of. She looked down.

  “Uh-oh,” said Barb.

  Uh-oh was right. Donning a too-small top had the opposite of her intended effect. Instead of diminishing the large appearance of her chest, the constrictive fabric accentuated her upper girth. Her hopes sank. “I have a broad back.”

  “To match your broad front,” said Barb with a light chuckle. “I’m so jealous. The only time I ever had cleavage was when I was breastfeeding. I took pictures so I could look back and remember the good days.” She shook her head while Bunny laughed, thankful for her friend’s dry humor.

  “Back to the drawing board on Project Hide and No Peek,” Barb said with a sigh. “Get your blouse back on. We’ll have to cover you with this sweater.” Barb gave another scan to make sure the coast was clear for Bunny to strip.

  Back outside, they battle-planned the wearing of the sweater, which was also on the small side for Bunny, but not nearly as disastrous as the turtleneck. Bunny suggested wearing her winter coat into the interview. “I could say, I don’t know, that I was feeling a fever coming on.”

  They killed that idea almost immediately. Not only would the coat make Bunny appear odd, but the interviewer might get distracted worrying about germs in the air instead of paying attention to Bunny’s qualifications.

  Bunny fiddled with the sweater some more, then decided she’d done enough. Either she’d get this job or she wouldn’t. She needed to just get in there, get it done, and get out.

  She took a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Barb gave her a warm smile and took Bunny by the shoulders. “Remember, you’re a brave, strong, confident woman.”

  “I’m not that confident...”

  “What did you just say?”

  “Confident. I’m a confident woman.”

  “So confident, they’ll have no choice but to give you that job, right here, right now. Do you want me to come in with you?”

  Bunny’s first thought was, Yes please. In fact, can you interview in my place? But she dug down deep and found some courage. She shook her head. “No. No. I’m good.”

  “Do you want me to wait?”

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be. You should go home. Can I come by after?”

  “Sure. I’ll have coffee waiting.”

  “Have that wine chilled just in case.”

  Bunny stepped into the Rustic Woods Nature Center and not-so-confidently peeked around the quiet place for a person to consult about this possible receptionist position. To her right and left were rooms with posters on the walls and terrariums containing local plant life and probably a snake or two. Was there a reception desk? She couldn’t remember. If they needed a receptionist, there must be a reception desk. Her heels clacked on the hardwood floor as she proceeded tentatively forward, her head leading the rest of her shaky body.

  “Hello?” She clacked a few more steps ahead. “Hello?”

  Aha. There it was. Halfway down the main hallway, she saw the appropriately rustic wooden reception desk. Seated there was a girl who looked only a year or two older than her son Charlie. Bunny wondered why the girl didn’t answer. A few more loud steps, and Bunny could see the reason why. The girl was reading a book and had tuned the world out with ear buds and an MP3 player.

  Bunny clattered a little more boldly to the desk. A teenager wasn’t so threatening. She could handle that. The girl still hadn’t noticed her even though Bunny stood right in front of her now. Bunny cleared her throat. No reaction.

  “Tap her book. She’s oblivious.” The low male voice came from behind Bunny and startled her enough to make her jump.

  A man and a woman sat on a bench against the wall. The man was dressed like he’d just come from a shift at an auto mechanic shop. The woman, a brunette, was younger and interview-ready in a salmon suit which, while attractive in a sort of Floridian way, seemed to Bunny to be entirely out of place in the month of February
, even if March was just a few days away. She gripped a soft leather briefcase in her lap, as if afraid the man next to her might steal it.

  “Tap the book,” the man repeated. “That’s what I did.”

  Bunny smiled hesitantly at the grimy man. She reached out, giving the girl’s book a small poke with her index finger.

  Rather than seeming startled, the girl raised her eyes with an annoyed glare. After what felt like years to Bunny, the little brat pulled one bud from her ear. “Can I help you?”

  “I was told...I mean, I’d like to...”

  The girl sighed while Bunny fumbled to speak her thoughts coherently. The sigh irritated Bunny, prodding her to get a grip on her wits. “The receptionist position,” she said with more certainty. “I want to interview.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Bu—” She stopped herself just in time. When interviewing, she always used her legal name, Robin. It sounded more adult, she thought. More professional. “Robin Bergen.”

  The girl made a grand gesture of leaning over to look at a clipboard. She scanned the thing for all of a half a second, then lifted her eyes to Bunny, acting very bored about the whole process. “You’re not on the list.”

  “That’s okay. I was told if I came right over, I could interview. I have a name...” she pulled the paper from her pocket. “I’m not sure what it is, though. Allison, maybe?”

  The girl stared at Bunny. Bunny stared at the girl. A big clock on the wall made of redwood ticked and tocked. The unblinking girl tapped her finger once, twice, three times. “Or maybe it was Avril,” Bunny finally said, her confidence waning. “I couldn’t read her writing.” She held the blue paper up for the girl to read, but the imp didn’t seem interested. Without taking her accusing eyes off Bunny, she picked up the phone and punched a button. “Abigail?” she said into the receiver.

  Bunny heard a beeping noise, and a moment later a woman’s voice sounded over the intercom. “Yes, Corinne?”