Christmas Dinner (Crimson Romance)

by Neeley, Robyn

  “Yes, I did.” She laughed.

  “Amanda, can I say something?” He picked up his lucky stone from the console where Amanda had left it and twirled it with his fingers. “I think your family is really great . . . and you . . . well, you are . . .” He seemed to be struggling with his words. That was a first.

  She interjected. “They like you, too. Take my mother, for instance. She never shares her secret sugar cookie ingredient, and she willingly gave it up to you within the first five minutes of meeting you! I didn’t even know that eggnog was in the recipe until I was ten, and that was only because my dad told me.”

  Tate chuckled. “I know our relationship isn’t real and this weekend is going to be over soon.” He raked his hand through his hair. “Oh, man. This is really hard . . .”

  She pulled into her parents’ cabin and parked the Jeep. Where had she heard “Oh, man, this is really hard” before? Oh, right. From Brad, right before he dumped me. “Are you breaking up with me?”

  “Not a chance.” He reached over to touch her face but missed.

  Amanda stifled a laugh. The painkiller had kicked in. She unbuckled her seatbelt and then reached over Tate and unbuckled his. Her hand rested on his leg. “Let’s get you inside and off your feet.”

  She flung the Jeep’s door open and jumped out, grabbing Tate’s crutches from the back seat. He struggled to get out. “Whoa. Stop right there, co-anchor. Let me help you,” she ordered, grabbing his arm and placing it gently around her shoulder. She liked how it felt. From the look on his face, she could tell he was hurting. “Tate, oh my gosh. You really are in pain.”

  “It’s not that bad.” He grimaced and looked up at the sky.

  “You are a bad liar. Here, lean on me.” She wrapped her arm around Tate’s back and guided him up the short front walk into the log house. The scent of sugar cookies immediately overpowered them as they stepped inside.

  “Soon you’ll be dreaming of gingerbread men.” She held onto him as they slowly climbed the spiral staircase.

  “I would prefer to dream of women.” He laughed. “Man, I love this house,” he said. “Hey—” He stopped on the stairs. “Have I told you yet? I’m having a wonderful time.”

  She laughed. “Sure you are.”

  Amanda helped him to the guest room and led him to the bed. “So, everyone should be back around eight o’clock or so. That gives us four hours.”

  “Four hours?” He leaned back on the bed. “We could do a lot up here in four hours.”

  “Very funny.” Her cheeks warmed. She quickly changed the subject. “I need to check in with Dad and see if he needs help with his deliveries. He must be close to the end by now. Then I will straighten things out with Alex before he attempts to poison your cocoa tonight.”

  “Good plan,” Tate muttered.

  “Brenda should be home, though, if you need anything.” She stood in the doorway and called out, “Hello? Brenda, are you here?” Silence. “Then again, I guess she’s not.”

  “Amanda, there’s something I need your help with . . .” His voice trailed. “I need to be somewhere at six tonight.”

  “Tonight?” she asked. Who was he possibly meeting? Someone from his past? She went to the closet for extra pillows. Maybe the drugs were making him forget where he was. Perhaps he thought they were in Wilmington, and he had a date with Ms. Hot Pink dress.

  She reappeared with two pillows and propped his ankle. “How’s that?”

  “Much better. Hey, can you help me get this off?” She looked over to see Tate sitting up and struggling to remove his sweater.

  “Hold on. Let me help.” She leaned over and lifted the sweater over his head. At the same moment, she was startled by something small forcefully plowing into her back.

  She lost her balance and fell face forward into Tate. He wrapped his arms around her and leaned back. Buried in his chest, she could smell the cologne that lingered on his white t-shirt. She let the delicious scent drift down into her lungs.

  He didn’t let go of her, and she wasn’t going to make the first move to stop whatever was about to happen. He gently brought her head to his until their lips were almost touching. Were they about to continue where they left off last night?

  Jingles jumped between them and licked her face. Not the tongue she was hoping for. She pulled back and stood. “Jingles, you silly dog. Tate, I’m sorry.” She straightened her sweater and sat back down on the edge of the bed, leaving a safe distance between her lips and Tate’s.

  “For what?”

  “This.” She motioned her hands all around her. “For all of this.”

  “I told you. I’m having a wonderful time.” He reached for her hand and gently drew a circle on her palm. “Honestly, Ace. I really am.”

  She laughed and looked away. “In spite of having to wear a ridiculous Christmas sweater covered in pine sap, being forced to listen to nineties music for eleven hours straight, being hit on by my grandmother, and oh, run over by my brother. It must be the drugs kicking in and clouding your judgment.”

  “It’s been an eventful twenty-four hours,” he agreed.

  She smiled shyly. “I should probably get going. You should get some rest.”

  Tate took off his glasses and set them on the nightstand beside the bed. “Maybe just an hour. Yeah, one hour, and I’ll be as good as new.” He closed his eyes.

  She pulled a red and green blanket over him and tucked it gently under his chin. Her hands slid down his bare arms and rested on his hands.

  “Since you’re being so honest, who is a better kisser? Me or Melanie?”

  He kept his eyes closed and grinned. “You never forget your first kiss.”

  • • •

  Amanda jogged down the stairs. She should have slapped him. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was drugged out of his mind, she would have chewed him out.

  She put on a fresh pot of coffee and waited for it to brew. How could he say that Melanie was a better kisser than her? Even if it was true, it was cruel.

  She stood up straight and adjusted her ponytail. No matter. She wasn’t going to be upset. Later tonight, she’d prove to him that Melanie had nothing on her in the kissing department.

  She pulled out her phone from her purse and called her father. “Hey, Dad. Just wanted to see if I could help you.”

  “Hi, dear. How’s Tate?” her father asked.

  “He’s fine. They gave him some painkillers. He’s upstairs taking a nap.”

  “Glad to hear it. I’m just wrapping up at the Taylors. Would you be able to meet me at Kristen Bailey’s at six?”

  Amanda reached for an empty coffee cup. “Sure. Do they still live over in the mobile home park?”

  “Yes. Last trailer at the bottom of the hill. And if your mother has some cookies left, can you bring a few with you?”

  Her eyes rested on the batch she had made earlier today. “They’re in luck. I made a batch this morning. I’ll bring some with me.”

  She finished her conversation with her dad and poured some coffee. That was strange. She could have sworn she’d seen Kristen Bailey’s name this morning as the first delivery on her dad’s list. Surely her mother or a volunteer would have stopped in with the cookies by now. She wondered what had happened. Perhaps they dropped off the ornaments and forgot the cookies?

  She carried the hot mug to the kitchen’s island and pulled up a stool. Her reflection in the window revealed her messy ponytail with blonde strands flying every which way. She anxiously ran her fingers through her hair, pulling the elastic band out.

  What on earth had just happened upstairs? There was something about the way Tate looked at her that made her weak in the knees. And those blue eyes of his. What was it about them that were so familiar?

  It had felt so right to be in his arms, even for those few brief seconds. Where were these feelings coming from? “He’s just a colleague,” she said out loud, stirring cream and sugar into her coffee cup.

  “Who’s just a colleague? Tate
?” Brenda entered, jostling grocery bags. “I hate to tell you this, but judging from last night, I think he’s a little bit more.”

  Amanda jumped up to help. “Hey! I was thinking about this guy I work with in the newsroom. He usually makes my blood boil, but lately things have been different between us.”

  “Does Tate know this guy?” Brenda set the bags on the counter.

  Amanda laughed and removed the groceries from the first bag. “Yes, he does.” She pulled out some carrots and celery. “What do we have here?”

  “Your mom asked me to pick up a few items for tonight. Some sandwiches and veggies. I’ve got a tray of deli sandwiches in my car.”

  “I forgot about the volunteers.”

  “There won’t be a big celebration tonight on account of Quinn going into labor.”

  “That makes sense.” Amanda felt relieved. Seeing Brad with Melanie was one thing, but having to interact with them in front of fifty volunteers would have been quite another.

  “Thanks for doing this. I’m headed out to meet Dad.”

  “Is Tate here?” Brenda asked.

  “He’s upstairs resting his ankle. I’m sure Alex mentioned the ‘incident’?”

  “He did, and I could have killed him. Seriously, backing over your boyfriend. What was he thinkng? Tate’s okay, right?”

  “Yeah, he’s fine, but I think running a person over puts Alex on the naughty list.” She chuckled. “His ankle is sprained, but he’ll survive. He’s taking a nap. I think he’s also exhausted from yesterday’s drive and then helping out with the deliveries all day. He’s hit a wall.”

  “Poor guy.”

  “Would you mind keeping an eye on him?”

  “No, not at all. It will give me an excuse to stay put and finish wrapping Alex’s presents.”

  “Rats. Presents.” Amanda drained her mug. She still hadn’t bought a gift for Tate. She reached for a small plate and grabbed a few cookies. “I’ll just take these up to him for when he wakes up. I need to stop by the mall before it closes.”

  She headed back upstairs, tiptoeing into the room.

  Tate was sound asleep with his right hand dangling half open off the side of the bed. Amanda crept over to the night stand and gently set the plate next to his glasses. Her eyes rested on him as she watched him sleep. Her incredibly handsome co-anchor. It was easy to understand how other women found him attractive. She imagined crawling in beside him, snuggling up to his shoulder.

  Maybe later. She turned to leave, and stepped on a hard, round object. She bent down and picked up the item. Outside in the hallway, she opened her palm to see a shiny glass rock. Tate’s lucky charm. “He certainly could have used you today.” She had an idea.

  She shut the door and hurried down the stairs, taking two at a time. “Brenda!”

  “What is it? Is Tate okay?” Brenda popped her head from out of the kitchen.

  “He’s fine. Would you have time tonight to help me with a small gift for him?”

  “Sure. What do you need?”

  “This.” She revealed the object in her hand.

  Brenda peered down. “You’re giving him a rock?” she asked, raising her eyebrow.

  “It’s not just any rock. It’s his rock. I mean, it’s his lucky charm. He keeps it in his Jeep, and I’m pretty sure he puts it in his pocket before we go on air. I’ve seen him. For some reason, he gave it to me on our ride up here yesterday, but I think he needs it.” She gave the rock a gentle squeeze. “Especially after today. I thought maybe we could etch something into it? Is that possible?”

  “Let me see it.” Brenda took the rock, examining its shape and texture. “You know, I think we could etch maybe a couple of words. You’ve come to the right woman. Your dad has some tools in his office I could use. What would you like it to say? ‘#1’ or maybe ‘Hot Anchor’?” she teased.

  “Not quite. Maybe ‘Just Believe.’” She looked at the rock again. “That’s probably too cheesy, huh?”

  “I can definitely inscribe whatever you like, but do you think he’d want his lucky stone etched? Once I do it, we can’t take it off.”

  “I’m not sure, but he gave it to me, so I guess I can do whatever I want with it. You really think you could do this?”

  “Sure can. It shouldn’t take me too long to do it.”

  “Awesome!” She hugged Brenda. “And I have the perfect box. Follow me.”

  Back in the kitchen, Amanda grabbed her purse off the kitchen island. She reached into it and pulled out the small robin egg blue box that George had given her earlier.

  “Oooh. One of your mom’s?”

  “No. No, this lovely box was given to me at the hospital today.” Amanda held it up.

  “Really? By who?”

  “Some nice old man that struck up a conversation with me while I waited for Tate. He left it on the bench and told me I’d know exactly what to put into it.”

  “Weird.”

  “I know, right?”

  “Well, it is pretty.” Brenda took the box from Amanda, opening the lid and inspecting its plush blue fabric inside.

  “Isn’t it? It’s strange. George said he put his pills in it, but it doesn’t look like it’s ever been used. Anyway, this is the perfect gift for Tate.”

  “If you say so.”

  Amanda could tell Brenda wasn’t entirely convinced. “Thanks for helping me. Without you, he would be getting a case of Upstate New York wine.”

  Brenda motioned one hand up and one hand down like a scale. “Hmmm . . . case of wine or a rock? I don’t know. Very tough decision indeed.” She chuckled. “I’ll have it ready for you when you get back tonight—” She paused. “And if you change your mind on the inscription, call me by six thirty. I won’t start until I hear from you.”

  “Perfect! I’ll give it a little more thought and call you. Thank you! You are the abolute best. Alex doesn’t deserve you.”

  She grabbed her jacket and purse from the hallway. “Oh, and can you wake Tate up at seven?” She smiled to herself and walked out the door. Her pseudo boyfriend would not be leaving the house at six but getting the rest he would need to join her in one long late night make out session that would prove once and for all Melanie had nothing on her in the kissing department.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Amanda turned on the Jeep’s windshield wipers, adjusting them to the lowest setting. She watched them move back and forth as they cleared off a dusting of tiny white flakes. Thankfully the snow was light, although judging from her ability to see her breath, the temperature had dropped quite a bit. She didn’t think Tate would mind her borrowing his car again.

  The roads could be icy later. It had been years since she’d driven on black ice. She turned out of the driveway and waved to the cars that had pulled over to view her family’s lawn. A steady stream of residents would, no doubt, be paying a visit to her parents’ house throughout the evening. It was nice to be home.

  It took her less than five minutes to drive the two miles to the trailer park Kristen Bailey lived in with her two daughters.

  “That’s funny. I wonder where Dad is?” She didn’t see her father’s truck anywhere. It was six o’clock on the nose. “Did I miss him?” She parked the Jeep, walked up the rickety steps, and knocked on the trailer’s front porch door.

  “Can I help you?” Kristen flung the door wide open. She was wearing a shimmering red sweater and black jeans. Her dark brown hair was pulled off her face. Tiny red and green ornament balls dangled from her earlobes.

  “Hi, Kristen. It’s Amanda Turner. I was supposed to meet my dad here at six. Did he already stop by?”

  “Amanda! Oh, my goodness. Of course. I didn’t recognize you. Come in, come in. Let’s get out of the cold.” She grabbed Amanda’s arm and ushered her into the trailer. “It’s so nice to see you. You look so different all grown up. So glamorous.”

  “Thanks. It’s good to see you, too. Was my father already here?” She scanned the trailer, resting her eyes on the kitchen table i
n front of her. The table was set for four. No sign of her dad.

  “He came here this morning.” Kristen pointed to the tree in the living room. “He delivered our tree with that handsome boyfriend of yours. What was his name again?”

  “Tate.” Amanda glanced over at the fully decorated Douglas Fir. That was weird—not only had her dad already been there, so had the volunteers with the ornaments. Maybe they’d just forgotten the cookies. That must be why he asked her to stop by.

  “That’s right. Tate. He made quite the impression on my little ones, especially Chloe. Look, she’s even set a place for him next to her.” Kristen motioned to the extra setting at the table.

  “Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry. I’ve interrupted your dinner,” Amanda said. “I should go.” She looked again at the empty plate. “Wait. Did Tate say he’d have dinner with you tonight?”

  “Yes. I mean no . . . not really. Chloe invited him. I told her he probably wouldn’t be able to come back, but she insisted that we set a plate for him just in case.” She put her hand up toward her face, covering her mouth slightly. “I think she’s just a little star struck finding out he’s on TV and all.”

  Amanda laughed, taking her hands out of her jacket pocket and loosening her scarf. The trailer was warm and smelled of spaghetti sauce and garlic bread. “He’s quite the celebrity, no doubt.” She glanced again at the tree. “Your Christmas tree looks beautiful.”

  “That space in there would be empty if it weren’t for your family,” she replied.

  A little girl darted into the kitchen. “Mommy, mommy. Is Tate here?” She was wearing a pretty red and green plaid dress. Her hair in a high ponytail with red velvet ribbons falling down each side. Upon seeing Amanda, she hid behind her mother, tugging on her sweater.

  “No, no.” Kristen reached behind and gently coaxed her daughter from behind her back. “Tate can’t join us tonight, but this is his girlfriend, Amanda. Amanda is Mr. Turner’s daughter.”

  Chloe let go of her mother and looked up at Amanda. “Hi,” she said softly.

  Kristen winked. “She did this shy act with your sweetheart earlier, for about two seconds. “Chloe, why don’t you show Amanda the decorations you and Tate made for the tree?”