She glanced at Tate and indicated for him to follow. This would be the test. Would her parents be able to see him? She began building an excuse so it was ready to roll off her tongue. He was a friend, come to help her study. She stole another glance at him. That would work—he looked fairly solid, and as long as he didn’t wave around his damaged arm and they didn’t look too closely, it would be fine.Her dad looked up from the newspaper. No doubt he was still working on the crossword. “Good walk?”“Yep.” Eloise waited, her toes curling in her runners.Tate walked a few paces into the kitchen. The hairs on her arm peaked and pulled, but she resisted the urge to turn her head and look to make sure Tate was there. He was. She could sense he was the same way she’d sensed him the first time he’d appeared in her room. But her father’s gaze remained on her. He couldn’t see Tate.“If you want an excuse not to study, you can come to the nursery sale with us.” Her dad fed Shelby a piece of toast.
