Christmas Dinner

by

Robyn Neeley

To my loving grandparents and one sweet kitty.

PROLOGUE

The Letter

One Month Before Christmas

Today, there was a letter in the mailbox. Betty reached in for the velvet white envelope, her feeble hand trembling. It was addressed to her and her husband, Bruce. She clutched the envelope and climbed back up the hill to their log cabin. Cool, white mist wrapped around her legs. Once she reached the top of the hill, she could no longer wait. She opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of matching velvet white paper.

Her hand flew to her heart. Her granddaughter Amanda would be arriving next month.

She had so many wonderful memories of her second grandchild, particularly during this time of year. As a little girl, Amanda had always been the first to try out the frozen pond out back, ice-skating for hours upon hours. She was also the first downstairs on Christmas morning, sliding down their wooden banister to make her entrance. She loved this holiday—she took after her father in that regard.

Amanda grew up to be a TV news anchor and was working in Wilmington, North Carolina. She abruptly moved there from New York two years ago to get a fresh start. For the last two Christmases, her seat at the dinner table remained empty. Amanda told her parents that she couldn’t get the time off from work, but Bruce and Betty knew better. It broke their hearts.

Betty entered the house and walked into the kitchen. Bruce sat at the square oak table engrossed in his crossword puzzle. She waved the letter slowly.

“Is that for us?”

She nodded. “It says Amanda will be arriving next month.”

“Amanda?” His eyes widened, and he set his pen down. “How old is she now?” He looked up toward the ceiling. “Thirty?”

She nodded and handed him the letter.

“I’m surprised she’s joining us so soon.”

Betty watched her husband study the paper closely. He rose and peered out the kitchen window in the direction of the mailbox. “Maybe it’s a mistake?” he asked, hopefulness in his voice.

Without a word, Betty reached over and claimed the letter from Bruce’s shaky hand. She folded it, placing it carefully back in its envelope. It was best to leave him alone with his thoughts.

She walked into the living room and took a seat in her favorite rocking chair. Setting the envelope on a nearby end table, she picked up a pair of knitting needles and yarn.

The red and green meshed string immediately attracted a buff-colored tabby who sauntered over from her napping spot near the stone fireplace. The cat jumped onto Betty’s lap, rubbing its soft head against the ball of yarn.

Forcing a smile, she set her needles aside and began petting the purring feline. “Sydney,” she said, patting the cat on its head. “Amanda’s coming home next month. Won’t you be happy to see her after all this time? She’ll be here in time to join us for Christmas dinner.”

With that realization, a tear rolled down her cheek.

CHAPTER ONE

December 22

The mayor of Wilmington was high on top of the naughty list this year. News anchor Amanda Turner was going to make sure he received a well-deserved stocking full of coal to hang in his jail cell.

She stood in the control booth and reviewed her notes. Minutes ago, her script had been successfully uploaded into the teleprompter. She was finally ready to break the news. For months, she had worked tirelessly to expose Mayor O’Malley for mishandling his reelection funds. Lavish vacations, special gifts for his wife, and expensive outings around town with local celebrities were just a few ways he spent his supporters’ donations. His inexcusable behavior was about to be revealed. Amanda would make sure that the honest, hard-working people of Wilmington knew the truth and that WENC news was on their side.

Her producer, Jeff Wakefield, tested out the shot of Jenny Jenkins, a field reporter stationed outside the mayor’s office where the press conference would later take place.

“Good morning, Jenny,” Amanda said, leaning over Jeff’s shoulder. “You look great. Ready to break the story?”

“I’m ready.” Jenny gave them a thumbs-up signal. “Talk to you soon.”

Jeff turned to pat Amanda’s back. “Santa Claus certainly came early for us, didn’t he?”

She laughed. “Yes, he did.” Busting the mayor had been a long time coming. It was a real team effort—with the exception of one particular colleague—her tall, dark, and arrogant co-anchor who was now ten minutes late.

Rumor had it he’d had some fun at the staff Christmas party last night. Not that she paid attention to office gossip—nor had she attended the event. She wasn’t a fan of Christmas these days. Besides, she was way too busy taking down the mayor.

She set aside her backup notes and fished out her compact from her purse to check her makeup one last time. The news station didn’t have a professional makeup artist for the on-air talent, but her assistant, Lacy Cavanaugh, had given her a hand this morning to make sure her face was flawless.

Suddenly, a blue eye appeared in her mirror.

She jumped.

“Good morning, Brenda Starr. Ready for your big moment?” Tate Ryan stood directly behind her. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Amanda snapped the compact shut, crossed the studio to the anchor desk, and took her seat. Her eyes zoomed in on his tie. “Seriously?” She pointed to the red and green stripes.

“What?” Tate sat in his chair and spun around.

“Your tie.”

“Just trying to be festive. Do you have something against Christmas?”

Amanda ignored him. She always wore royal blue on Wednesdays, and he knew it. Lacy always sent him an e-mail each afternoon, reminding him what color to wear the next day. It helped ensure they didn’t clash on camera.

He’d worn the tie to get a rise out of her. Typical Tate. She smoothed her straight blonde hair along her jaw line. Well, it wouldn’t work today. This was her moment, and nothing he could say, do, or wear was going to ruin it.

Jeff stepped up to the desk. “Nice work, you two. You’re quite the dynamic duo.”

“Thanks,” Tate responded and flashed a smile toward Amanda. “I couldn’t agree more.”

Amanda rolled her eyes. It figured Tate would try to take some of the credit. It really didn’t surprise her. No matter. Jeff had agreed to let her break the story.

“All right. Let’s give the mayor a Christmas gift he can rewind and replay into the New Year.” Jeff’s eyes twinkled. “Ho, ho, ho . . .”

“Break a leg, Ace.” Tate winked.

Ernie, their cameraman, signaled. “Three, two, one.”

Amanda stared into the camera and smiled brightly. “Good morning, Wilmington. I’m Amanda Turner.”

“And I’m Tate Ryan. Your morning news starts right now. Thanks for joining us.”

She took a deep breath, her expression serious. This was it. Her time to shine. “In breaking news—” She paused, waiting for her next few lines to appear on the teleprompter.

Something was wrong. Where was the next line? The words on the screen stopped moving. The machine appeared to be stuck.

She looked down at the table and her heart galloped. Her backup notes were not on the desk. Dammit. She must have left them in the control room. This couldn’t be happening. Not today. Please work. Please work. Improvisation was not her strong suit. You can do this. Say something. “In breaking news . . .” she repeated. That was it; her voice stalled out much like the teleprompter.

“In news you’re hearing first on WENC,” Tate interjected.

Ernie swung the camera over to Tate.

“An investigation has uncovered that Mayor Chris O’Malley allegedly used reelection funds for personal use. Our Jenny Jenkins is reporting live from outside the mayor’s office where a press conference is scheduled for 10 A.M. Jenny, what are you hearing? Will the mayor be addressing these allegations personally?”

Amanda’s jaw dropped. She was unable to comprehend what had just happened. Tate had broken her story! She motioned for him to toss it back to her, but he either didn’t see her or didn’t want to. All she could do was listen as Tate fired one question after another to the reporter. Three minutes later, he wrapped up.

“Thanks, Jenny. We’ll continue to provide coverage on this explosive story as it develops.”

The camera zoomed in on Amanda, snapping her back to the moment. The teleprompter was working and running the next few lines. Words originally meant for Tate, but were now hers.

Humiliated, she forced a smile and read the next line. “In other news . . .”

* * *

Tate chuckled and removed his tie. He didn’t care for bright red—and with green stripes, he could easily be mistaken for one of Santa’s elves. That is, except for his height. He only wore the tie to mess with Amanda. Opening his desk drawer, he pulled out a more suitable royal blue one and put it on.

She was infuriated with him. No question about it. After the newscast, she’d stomped away from the anchor desk without saying a word. How was her freezing under pressure his fault? She should have thanked him, not given him the cold shoulder.

His door suddenly flew open.

Speak of the devil.

And she was still as gorgeous as ever—even with imaginary darts spewing from her beautiful green eyes. He was a glutton for punishment.

“What the hell happened in there?” Amanda burst in and slammed the door.

The clock above the entrance shook off center. Tate calmly smoothed his tie, rubbing his hand up and down his chest. This ought to be good.

“Hello, and you’re welcome.” He moved to straighten the clock. A benefit to being tall. What he really needed to do was move the timepiece to another wall since Amanda slammed his door often.

“You’re welcome? You want me to thank you? You just humiliated me on live TV.”

“No, I just saved you from humiliation. Big difference.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Did you jam the teleprompter?”

“Excuse me? You think I sabotaged you?”

Amanda cocked an eyebrow. “Well?”

“You really think I would do that? Aren’t we on the same team? You know—dynamic duo. I stepped in when you clearly needed some help.”

“I was fine,” she retorted.

“Right,” he said skeptically. “Not so great at thinking on your feet? I could give you a few pointers.”

“I don’t need any help, especially from you.” She grimaced and narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t give me time to recover.”

“Amanda, we were headed toward dead air. Now that would have humiliated not only you but the entire station. Did you want that to happen?”

“No, of course not. I would have said something. I just needed a second. You didn’t give me a chance.”

“Look, I was trying to help you save face. What’s the big deal?” He lifted his tie and pointed it toward her. “Better?”

“Enough.” She gritted her teeth. “I couldn’t care less about the color of your tie, the suit you’re wearing, or the color of the dress on your bimbo last night.”

He threw back his head and gave an exaggerated laugh. “For your information, it was pink—hot pink.” It was a lie, of course. There had been no bimbo or a hot pink dress last night. He’d gone home alone—like he had every night since he’d started working with Amanda. But she didn’t need to know that.

Amanda shook her head and glanced up at the clock. They were scheduled to be back in the studio to cover the press conference. “This conversation is not over.” She opened his door.

“It never is with you.” He walked up and faced her. This woman knew how to get under his skin. They were inches apart. Her vanilla scented perfume enticed his nostrils. What he wouldn’t give to swoop down and devour her neck. When it came to Amanda, there were so many things he really wanted to do rather than argue, but now wasn’t the time to act on his feelings. She’d most likely slap him.

He lifted his hands and squeezed her shoulders. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a press conference to cover.”

CHAPTER TWO

Later that evening, Amanda shifted in her stool at the Singing Surf Tavern on the waterfront and reflected on the day’s events. She sipped her white wine and closed her eyes. The cold liquid flowed down the back of her throat. Soon it would do its magic and erase the miserable day.

She laughed bitterly. How could one ill-timed malfunction cost her the opportunity of a lifetime? At least her station had been the first to break the story. Maybe she was being too hard on Tate; perhaps she should’ve thanked him for jumping in when he did.

But there was the little matter of him not tossing the story back to her. Not only did he break it, it appeared he enjoyed doing so. The way he gloated afterwards, believing he had saved the day. What was his deal? He hadn’t lifted a finger during the investigation but had gallantly walked around the newsroom all day like he was Tom Brokaw.

She swirled her wine inside her glass. Why, at thirty-three, was he working in Wilmington? Why not a bigger market? He was talented and well liked. There was no denying that their ratings had improved since his arrival in January. Viewers really took to him—at least the focus groups indicated they did.

Her phone buzzed. She grabbed it from the bar counter. Her younger brother, Alex, had sent her a text. The message, Check your Facebook, appeared on the tiny screen.

That was vague. She touched the icon. There were no new messages. Perhaps her very pregnant sister, Quinn, had posted something on her wall about the baby. Amanda’s finger slid up and down, scrolling through the statuses. Jen, a production assistant, was making macaroni and cheese, and writing out her Christmas dinner shopping list. David, Amanda’s friend from church, was at the dog park. She laughed. It amused her how some people used the online platform to broadcast the most mundane events in their lives. Who really cares what you’re planning to make for Christmas dinner or that you’re picking up your dog’s sh—?

Wait a minute. Her heart stopped and her fingers trembled. Brad Sullivan had changed his status from single to engaged.

This had to be a cruel joke. Her ex-boyfriend was getting married? How could this be? Mister “I’m afraid of commitment” was engaged? To whom? It was only two years ago that he’d been her boyfriend.

Brad wasn’t just an ex-boyfriend—he was her only ex-boyfriend. They had grown up together and had known each other all their lives, but it was only when she started working at their hometown news station after college that they began dating.

While Amanda worked the eleven o’clock weekend shift, Brad had enrolled in the police academy program and, shortly after graduating, became a police officer for their town. They were together for five years.

Amanda wanted to get married. There was no question in her mind that Brad was the one. They’d talked about it, but Brad seemed to always have a reason why it would be better to wait. He had made all the excuses under the sun from wanting them both to be better established in their careers to needing to save up enough money to buy a house.

She never understood his logic. She was an anchor and he was a police officer in the town they grew up in—how much more established did they need to be? Her parents would have helped them build a cabin on their land, but he’d said he was too proud to accept their help.

Two years ago, she thought Brad was finally ready to propose. Amanda drained her glass. Staring into its bottom, she thought back to that awful Christmas Eve that had changed everything.

* * *

Amanda could hardly wait. She brushed back the red velvet curtains in her childhood room and peered out the second story window at the decorated lawn below. Her gaze fell on the red and gold sleigh at the end of the driveway. The sleigh was part of the elaborately decorated lawn that brought thousands of visitors to her parents’ home in Bath, New York each Christmas. It would be the perfect spot for Brad to ask her to marry him. They had shared their first kiss in that sleigh.

Just days ago she had seen him leaving Bath Jewelers with a gift bag in hand and had ducked into an alleyway so he wouldn’t see her. She’d always dreamed about getting engaged on Christmas Eve just like her grandparents had. Christmas was a special holiday for the Turners.

Brad’s squad car pulled into the driveway. She squealed with excitement and took one last glance in the mirror, approving her last minute change from her family’s mandatory Christmas sweater to a formfitting winter white one, dark jeans, and brown riding boots. A much better outfit to say the all-important “yes” in. Brad would love it. Dabbing her lips one last time with gloss, she headed to greet her man.

From the top of the banister, she could hear the sound of many voices talking over the Christmas music. Christmas Eve was the biggest day of the year for her family—her parents ran a Christmas tree farm, and every Christmas Eve they provided Christmas trees for those in need. The evening always ended with a celebration at the Turners’ with the volunteers who’d helped out throughout the day. It would be wonderful to share her good news with all of her family and friends.

Amanda made her way down the spiral staircase taking two steps at a time. In the foyer to her right, groups of her mother’s volunteers chatted and munched on Christmas cookies. They were all wearing matching red sweaters with tiny embroidered Christmas trees on the front. The same as the one she ditched upstairs. She moved into the living room. Over by the fireplace were Brad’s fellow police officers. Her parents stood near the tree.

Her father greeted her. “Hi, honey. Everything okay?”

“Hi, Dad. Everything’s fine.” She scanned the crowded room, her heart beating rapidly. “Great turnout tonight. Have you seen Brad?”

“He’s over there under the mistletoe.” Her mother nodded toward the foyer entrance. “Better go kiss him before your grandmother does.” She chuckled.

Amanda laughed. Her mother adored Brad. She had let it slip this week that he had stopped by to talk to her dad.

She nudged Amanda. “Looks like Quinn is enjoying Mark’s company.”

Amanda spotted her older sister on the sofa laughing it up with Brad’s older brother. What a flirt. They were both teachers at Hammondsport High School. She was glad he was here. The Sullivan brothers were very close. They had lost their parents at an early age and were raised by their grandparents. Unfortunately, both grandparents had since passed away. Amanda’s parents had always treated both Brad and Mark like family. Soon Brad would be an official member. She smiled, watching her sister flirt back. Maybe someday Mark would, too.

Amanda grabbed a candy cane from a dish on the coffee table and twirled it with her fingers. It wouldn’t be long now. The sleigh was ready. Her family and friends were here to celebrate afterwards. Amanda guessed there had to be at least fifty volunteers in the house, if not more.

Amanda whispered to her mom. “I think it’s time.”

Her mother grinned.

Amanda tucked her hair behind her ears and headed toward the hanging mistletoe. Brad, who was still wearing his police officer uniform, greeted her with an uncomfortable expression—he wasn’t one for crowds. She had fantasized about this very moment for five years, but never in her fantasy was he wearing his police duds or looking as disheveled as he did now. He was still incredibly handsome, with his brown hair, chocolate eyes, and square jaw.

She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Tradition,” she chirped, pointing to the mistletoe.

Brad shifted, appearing uncomfortable. “Hey. Can we talk outside for a minute?”

“Sure.” Amanda grabbed the duffle bag with the blankets. Her eyes caught her mother’s, and she raised her hand nonchalantly, touching her ring finger.

Her mom hurried over to the large bay windows. Amanda knew her mother planned to have a front row seat to the proposal.

She followed Brad outside and shut the front door. The frigid air immediately hit her face. It was a perfect winter’s night. She’d remember this feeling for a long time to come, and one day tell the story to their children and then their children’s children. She smiled at the thought.

“Amanda, I wanted to wait until after Christmas, but, um . . .” he stammered and looked away. “Oh, man. This is really hard.”

She nodded. “I know.” Grabbing his hand, she gave it a reassuring squeeze. Brad wasn’t the best with words but Oh, man. This is really hard wasn’t quite where she had envisioned he’d start. Hadn’t he practiced?

“Why don’t we go down to the sleigh?” she suggested. “I have some blankets in the bag.”

“I think here is fine.”

Her gaze darted over toward the living room windows. Her parents quickly turned their backs. Their blatant attempt to witness the proposal was so transparent. She should’ve just brought a row of chairs outside and charged admission.

She linked her arm with his. “Come on, honey” she coaxed. “It’s so beautiful down there with the lights.”

Brad broke their link but then grabbed her hand. His eyes were fixed on her.

Something wasn’t right. His hand shook in hers. Was he really that nervous? She would just have to put Brad out of his misery and get engaged on the porch. That was fine. With the twinkling white Christmas lights outlining the house, it was still pretty romantic, plus her family would have a better view of the proposal.

“Whatever you need to say, I’m listening,” she reassured him. “Let’s just step over here.” She moved to the right, a better angle for her family to see. She noticed the backs of her brother and sister were now next to her parents’.

Brad sighed again. “You mean the world to me . . . I . . . um . . .”

“Is there something you want to ask me?” She didn’t know how much longer she could stand out in the cold without the blankets or his body to snuggle up to. If he couldn’t spit it out, maybe they could get engaged inside by the fireplace. Good Plan B.

Brad pulled his hand away and jammed it into his coat pocket. “Amanda, you are wonderful and we’ve had a lot of great times together.”

This was it. She watched as he fished around his pocket. The ring must be really buried in there. She could see her younger brother, Alex, watching with a smart aleck grin.

Brad continued. “I guess what I’m trying to . . .” He took his hand out of his pocket. The small object fell out of his shaky hands into the snow. He bent down trying to find it.

Before she knew what she was doing she blurted out, “Yes I will marry you, Brad Sullivan.”

She looked down. Her eyes widened. Brad was not holding a ring but a small key. Her apartment key. “What is this?” she asked.

“I think we should take a break.”

Just then the door flew open and her family burst out. She glanced around in horror. All of the guests had congregated in the foyer. Many of them holding plastic champagne glasses.

Her father slapped Brad proudly on the back. “Congratulations, son. Welcome to the family.”

Her mom came over and hugged her. “Let me see. Let me see.” She grabbed Amanda’s hand. Her eyebrows furrowed. “Dear, where is your ring?”

Humiliated, Amanda rushed into the house and up the stairs to her room.

* * *

It had only gotten worse from there. The news that Brad had bought an engagement ring but then changed his mind and dumped her on Christmas Eve had spread like wildfire. Daily errands were torture; the whispers and glances of pity were just too painful. She needed a fresh start. A month later, she landed the job in Wilmington and didn’t look back.

But while her relationship had ended that night two Christmas Eves ago, a new one began. Quinn started dating Mark, and they eloped in Las Vegas six months later. They were now about to have a baby. The fact that Quinn was now Brad’s sister-in-law was difficult for Amanda to swallow. There was no clean break. Her family tried to be supportive and encouraged her to come home this Christmas. She’d thought she was finally ready to do it. Until now.

She knew it was a mistake earlier this year to accept Brad’s friend request on Facebook. This proved her theory that one should never friend her ex-boyfriend until both were happily married—and even then, one should reconsider.

“Thanks a lot, Alex,” she mumbled, annoyed at her brother for sending the text in the first place. Was he trying to give her a heads-up? He could have called to break the news.

“I’ll have another, please.” Amanda waved her empty wine glass and glanced up at the mounted television. Their explosive local story had made national news. “I really need to get out of this town,” she muttered.

“Excuse me?” The bartender picked up her glass. He was wearing a Santa hat.

“Oh, nothing.” She pointed at his head, changing the subject. “Do they make you wear that?”

“Nah, I just like to get into the Christmas spirit.” He grabbed a bottle of wine, refilling her glass.

“Christmas spirit,” she echoed dryly. She remembered that feeling. It was only two years ago that it was her favorite time of year—two heartbreaking years. “Thanks.”

She took a long gulp and went back to brooding over Brad’s status update. What if she ran into him and his fiancée this weekend? Oh, God. What if she knew her?

“Hey, Santa, think you could bring me a boyfriend to take home this weekend?” she asked sarcastically. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flicker of a man in a suit. She knew its owner immediately.

“Why, Ace, are you taking resumes?”

She spun around and shook her head. Tate had taken the empty seat next to her. Her knees briefly touched his. “What the—where did you come from? Are you following me now?” She drank her wine. “I hate you,” she mumbled.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He pointed to her fresh glass. “I see you’re celebrating. Mind if I join you?”

She pushed off her seat. “Sorry, I was just leaving.” Her legs wobbled, and she felt a little tipsy. When had she become such a lightweight? She sat down to regain her equilibrium. “On second thought, I was here first.”

The bartender came over. “Sir, can I get you anything?”

“A stocking full of coal would be appropriate,” Amanda interjected sweetly. She glared at Tate and raised her finger directly at a group of women on the other side of the bar who were looking their way. She suspected they were gushing over Tate. Most women did.

“See that cougar in the tight sequined silver top and black hooker stilettos? I’m sure she’s one of your fans. I’d bet my paycheck she’d love to have the great Tate Ryan make her night.”

Tate nodded to the woman and pulled Amanda’s arm down. She felt his hand linger.

“I think I’ll pass.” He signaled the bartender and said, “Hey, buddy, could I get a Manhattan?” Then he turned back to Amanda. “Okay, talk to me, Mandy. Why so glum?”

“Don’t call me that. My brother calls me Mandy, and I’m angry with him right now, too.” She stood once again and reached for her purse, determined this time to get away from her co-anchor. “I think I’ll get a table—for one. Merry Christmas, Tate,” she said flatly.

She walked over to the dining area and scanned the room for an empty table. There was one near the window. She plopped down in a chair.

Tate sauntered over.

“Oh, no. No, no.” She raised her hand in protest. “You are not sitting here.”

“Look, you can’t still be angry with me for what happened earlier.”

“Why can’t I?”

“Ace, you know I didn’t sabotage you.” He pulled out a chair and took a seat.

Amanda sighed. “I know.”

“Listen, let’s order some dinner. My treat. I’m starving, and I’ll bet you are, too. We’ll eat, and you can tell me why you’re here drowning your sorrows because this can’t all be my fault. Start from the beginning. I’m a great listener.” He scrolled through his iPhone. “Was it really that bad of a day?” he asked, glancing up.

“You can’t be serious. You did not just ask me that.”

Tate shrugged. “It’s one story. There will be others.”

“Not like this one.”

“You really believe that?”

Amanda shrugged. “I don’t know what I think anymore. Let’s just order. Will you promise to leave me alone after we eat?”

“Deal. Okay, where to begin? All right, why do you hate me? No. Wait.” Tate jerked his hand up in the air in a halt. “Don’t answer that. Let’s start with a softball question. Why do you hate the holidays?” He grabbed the other menu on the table.

“I don’t hate the holidays.”

Tate smirked. “Amanda, you pretty much tell anyone who wishes you a Merry Christmas to go to hell.”

“That’s not true.”

“Not to mention I had to twist your arm for you to do the kick-off story on this year’s toy drive.”

“That hardly makes me a scrooge. I agreed to it, didn’t I?”

He pointed at the window. “Speaking of toys, did you see that huge Santa and sleigh on the flatbed truck in the parking lot? It’s filled with all kinds of fun things. What do you think they’re doing with all those toys?”

Amanda followed his gaze out the window. In the darkness, she could just make out a life-size Santa and sleigh. God, she hated sleighs.

She could also see Tate’s reflection in the glass. The man certainly knew how to wear a suit. Why did he have to be so incredibly good looking? His eyes met hers, causing her cheeks to warm. She glanced away and reached for the breadbasket. “Does it really matter?”

“I’m just trying to lighten the mood.” He flipped his menu to the other side.

She sighed. He was right. It was common knowledge around the station that she wasn’t a big fan of the holidays.

“You’re right. I do get somewhat uptight this time of year,” she admitted. “I was planning on going home tomorrow, but now I don’t know—”

Tate looked up and interrupted. “You’re not going home for Christmas? Why?”

“I don’t know what to do. My mother will kill me if I don’t. My older sister’s about to have a baby.”

“Everything okay?”

“With her, yes. It’s just I received some unsettling news about my ghost from Christmas past.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.” She slid back in her chair and took a drink. “It’s just hard to be single during the holidays, I guess.”

Tate studied her. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type of woman who gets down in the dumps for being single this time of year.”

“I’m not.” She paused. “Well, maybe I am a little. You think you’re headed down this precise path to achieving all of your carefully planned out goals—good grades, great college, solid career, the guy, perfect marriage, great sex—”

“Why, Ace, I could help you with that last goal.”

Amanda rolled her eyes. Of course he could. She continued, “Adorable kids and a nice house.” She sat up in her chair. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy in Wilmington. I’ve got a wonderful career, good friends, and my beautiful beachside condo bought and paid for. It’s just . . . I don’t know. You think everything is on track and then a—”

“Teleprompter jams,” he finished.

Her eyes started to water. “Something like that.” She immediately looked out the window to hide the evidence. Tate could not see her cry.

“So how long has it been since you’ve been home?”

“Two years.” Amanda grabbed a piece of bread and broke it apart.

“That’s nothing. What’s kept you away?”

“Long story.” Amanda grimaced and shoved the bread in her mouth.

“Might help to talk about it.”

She swallowed. “If you must know, my boyfriend of five years dumped me two years ago on Christmas Eve in front of all my family and friends.”

“Ouch.”

“Tell me about it.” She picked up her glass and swung it up in the air. “Then I get a text tonight telling me to check my Facebook, and guess what?” she asked, her voice rising. She didn’t wait for Tate to respond. “The bastard’s getting married!” She slammed her glass down. “Freakin’ engaged.”

“Is it really the end of the world?” Tate motioned for the waiter to bring Amanda a glass of water.

“Clearly you’ve never been in a relationship.”

“You just said you were happy here.”

“I am.”

“Are you still in love with him?”

“No.” She shook her head. “He might have broken up with me, but I realized we really weren’t meant to be. It’s just . . .”

“Just what?”

Amanda stared at Tate. Why was he so interested in her love life? “I guess I don’t understand why Brad gets to have his happy ending before me. Two years ago he didn’t want it.” Her eyes watered. This time she couldn’t hide the evidence as one tear slid down her cheek. “At least not with me.”

Tate grabbed a napkin from the table dispenser and handed it to Amanda. “Let’s turn this around.”

“How?” She sniffed, dabbing her eyes.

“Okay, here’s how I see it. Your sister is radiantly pregnant and about to pop out your mother’s first grandchild. Is your brother in a relationship?”

“Yes, with my best friend from high school.”

“I see. It’s all making sense. There you will be at Christmas dinner, sandwiched between both couples. You have a great career and some would say a pretty good life here down south, but the humiliation of what happened with Brad will be the unspoken elephant in the room all weekend. Am I painting an accurate picture?”

With each stroke of his verbal brush, he certainly was. “I think you should order your dinner to go,” she said icily. It had obviously been a bad idea to share her love life with Tate.

“I think I can help—no, I know I can help you.”

“Help me? How?”

“If you brought a new man home, it would show everyone that you’ve moved on.”

“Maybe, but it’s not like I can rent one.” She thought for a second—could she?

“No need.” Tate reached for his drink and took a sip. “You can take me—free of charge.”

Amanda studied Tate. Was she hearing things?

“Take me home with you and introduce me as your boyfriend. I’ll fill that seat at Christmas dinner this year.”

“I was kidding with the bartender.” Amanda scoffed. The idea of bringing home a handsome boyfriend was intriguing. It would prove to everyone she was over Brad and past the humiliating breakup. But this was Tate. Handsome, yes. Her boyfriend? She didn’t think so. He rattled her on most days. They’d never pull it off.

“Well, just think about it. We can leave tomorrow.”

“Why on earth would you want to spend Christmas with my family pretending to be my boyfriend? Don’t you have to ingratiate yourself to your own family? Or did they not invite you home this year?”

From his uncomfortable expression, she could tell the last question stung. “I’m sorry. Your family is none of my business.” Reaching for her wine, she took another sip. She wasn’t completely heartless during the holidays, despite what he and apparently everyone else around the news station thought. She was also no one to judge when it came to going home for Christmas.

“Consider the offer an olive branch—an apology for my contributing to your bad day,” Tate said.

“That’s not necessary.”

“I think it is. Plus, it would be nice to get out of this town for a bit,” he said, glancing at the gaggle of women from earlier who continued to circle the bar. “Meet some new fans.” He locked his eyes with Amanda’s. “Do we have a deal?”

“No,” she shot back and drained her wine glass. “Absolutely not.”

CHAPTER THREE

She’d definitely said no. At least she thought she had. So why was Tate sipping coffee at a dining room table still wearing his suit from yesterday, and why was she lying on a couch in a Boston University sweatshirt with North Carolina State shorts? The red and white school colors combo made her dizzy.

Amanda reached up and touched her forehead. A soft piece of satin material brushed against her cheek. She looked down to see a royal blue tie wrapped around her wrist.

Tate’s tie.

Oh, no. What have I done?

She shut her eyes tightly and yanked the blanket over her head. “Where am I?” she murmured, realizing she was on a black leather couch and not her beige suede one. Was Tate sitting at his dining room table? This couldn’t be his place, could it? Did they?

Think, Amanda, think. They’d been at the bar and had a couple drinks. There was Tate’s tongue in cheek offer of great sex. Why was his tie snaked around her wrist? Did last night get kinky? “We don’t even like each other,” she whispered, sinking deeper into the couch.

“Good morning, Boss! Time to wake up.”

Amanda whipped off the blanket. Lacy stood in front of her with a coffee mug in her hand.

“Lacy!” Never had she been happier to see her assistant. “Thank you, Lord.” This must be her apartment. “I mean, thank you, Lacy. I could really use coffee right now.” She took the mug.

“I’m out of milk so it’s strong. It’ll help you open your eyes.”

Amanda inhaled the rich aroma. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Um, Lacy, why is Tate here?” Amanda nodded in his direction. He was talking on his phone. “And why am I here?” She rubbed her temple. What a night. She vaguely remembered a Santa hat and inhaling smoke.

Lacy plunked down in a matching black leather recliner across from the couch, bringing her knees to her chest. “You don’t remember? He brought you here last night. You wouldn’t tell him where you lived.”

“I wouldn’t?”

“Nope. You were in pretty rough shape. I put you to bed in my roommate’s room. She’s at NC State for the weekend.”

“Explains the shorts,” Amanda mumbled.

“Tate slept on the couch,” Lacy quickly added.

“Then why am I on the couch?” Amanda asked.

“Hey, Lois Lane.” Tate was off the phone and walking over to Amanda. “Or wait . . . Should I say Candy Cane? Lacy, what on earth did you give her to wear?”

Lacy giggled. “What do you mean? It’s my favorite BU sweatshirt. I bought it my freshman year.”

“Amanda, I think you have something of mine.” He grinned mischievously and pointed to his tie still coiled around her wrist.

She immediately pulled it off and flung it at him. “Lacy was just about to tell me how I ended up on the couch where, apparently, you were sleeping?”

“I got this, Lacy.” He winked and turned to Amanda. “You came out here earlier this morning mumbling something about needing to make sugar cookies for the tree deliveries. What was that all about anyway? I got up to use the bathroom, and when I returned . . . well, there you were snuggled up on the sofa. Out like a light.”

Amanda sipped her coffee. His recount of how she’d ended up on the couch was innocent enough. She would have preferred that her assistant didn’t see her after a few drinks, but at least she didn’t make a mistake with Tate.

“I really do need to go.” She set her mug on the coffee table. “I still need to pack. I should have been on the road by now. Lacy, would it be too much trouble to take me to my car?” She stood up and looked around for her clothes. She hoped her Nissan was still at the Singing Surf.

“Sorry, Boss. My roommate has my car. She drove to Raleigh last night. I’m sure Tate can take you.” Lacy retrieved Amanda’s suit from the back of the recliner and handed it to her.

Tate stood. “Sure. No problem. I’m headed out of town for the holidays myself. Packed and ready to go. I can drop you off at the bar and jump on the highway.”

“Thanks,” Amanda muttered.

“Where are you off to, Tate?” Lacy asked, picking up Amanda’s coffee mug.

“Nowhere special. Just visiting extended family up north and getting a little skiing in.” He yawned. “Can you be ready in five minutes, Ace?”

“Fine.”

She dressed hurriedly in the bathroom and rushed out the door. Tate and Lacy sat on the building’s front steps. Well, what’s going on here? She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but something suspicious was going on. Amanda watched them hug.

Seeing Amanda, Lacy pulled away from Tate and stood. “Well, I should probably get ready for work. The bus comes in twenty minutes. Happy holidays,” she said, giving Amanda an enthusiastic embrace. She whispered in her ear, “Open your eyes. This is going to be your best Christmas yet.”

Amanda smiled wryly. Why was this going to be the best Christmas yet? What had Tate said to Lacy? And why did Amanda need to open her eyes?

“Bye, Lace.” Tate rose from the steps and gave Lacy a quick wave. He reached inside his coat pocket for his keys. “Ready?” He started down the path to his Jeep, not waiting for Amanda’s answer.

“What kind of game are you playing?” Amanda called out, hot on his heels. “Visiting family up north? You don’t mean my family, do you? Please don’t tell me I agreed to take you home with me?” She tied her coat tightly around her waist, trying to block out the frigid air.

Tate smirked. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re grumpy all the time. Okay. I’ll tell you what happened. We had dinner together. You had one too many glasses of wine. I wanted to drive you home, but you wouldn’t reveal such classified information as your street address. There was no way I was going to let you get behind a wheel.”

“So, how did we end up at Lacy’s?”

“Look, Nancy Drew, I called Lacy, using your phone, to get your address. Check it if you don’t believe me. You snatched the phone from me. Might I add this is after you grabbed the Santa hat off of the bartender’s head and tried to set it on fire with the candle on our table.” He reached out and touched her shoulder. “You really have issues. We’re lucky you didn’t burn the place down. The owner practically tossed us out.”

Amanda pushed his hand away from her. That explained why she vaguely remembered the Santa hat and inhaling smoke. Whatever. The bartender looked ridiculous in that hat, anyway. She did him a favor. “All right. Go on.”

“You demanded that Lacy pick you up and told her that her job depended on it. It was late and rather than continue arguing, I agreed to drive you here. Shortly after we arrived, you passed out.” He unlocked and opened the passenger door. “Lacy and I stayed up and watched TV for a while. I fell asleep on the couch until you commandeered my spot earlier this morning, and to the recliner I went. End of story.”

Amanda got in his Jeep. She didn’t believe for a second that he was telling her the complete story. What was their embrace back there about? They were hiding something.

“So I didn’t agree to take you home for Christmas?” she asked as soon as Tate jumped in the other side.

“No,” Tate admitted. “You didn’t.”

“Thank God.” She massaged her aching head.

“Hey, you really are in rough shape. Anything I can do, Ace?” Tate asked, shoving his key into the ignition.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough this week?” Amanda shot back. “Maybe when I return you can break another story and put the final nail in my career’s coffin.” Her head was about to split in two.

“There will soon be other news for you to break—probably more on this story, in fact. How about a Christmas truce?”

“Fine,” she conceded. She needed to let it go. The teleprompter jam really wasn’t his fault. Besides, he was right. There would be more news on the mayor’s downfall after the holidays. She would insist on taking the lead.

They sat in silence as Tate drove the two miles to the bar. Red and green holiday decorations saturated Wilmington’s historical district storefronts. Poles decked out with red and white ribbon.

Maybe she should hibernate in her condo and ride out Christmas weekend. She could tell her family she had the flu and shouldn’t be around her pregnant sister. It wasn’t a total lie. She closed her eyes and fought back the sick feeling in her stomach. The last thing she needed to do was throw up in Tate’s Jeep. He’d never let her live it down.

Minutes later, her body leaned to the right as Tate swerved into the bar’s parking lot. Finally.

“What the . . .” Tate raised his voice.

“What?” Amanda flung her eyes open and sat up straight. “Oh my God. My car!” The life-size Santa statue and sleigh display from last night had crashed into her car’s front hood, shattering her window. Toys and shards of glass were scattered all over the ground. The sleigh was turned over on its side next to the car. Kris Kringle’s red velvet behind and black boots were lodged halfway through her front window.

Flying out the Jeep, she ran over to her Nissan. She bent down and picked up a small brown teddy bear, a casualty from the sleigh.

“Wow!” Tate joined her. “Now this could be the best reason yet for you to hate Christmas.”

“You don’t think one of the mayor’s supporters did this for revenge?”

Tate considered it for a second. “Nah, but I have a feeling we’re about to find out what happened.” He nodded in the direction of the tavern.

Amanda recognized the man walking toward them. It was Richie, the tavern’s owner. “Ma’am, is this your car?”

“Yes. I left it here last night. Do you know who did this?” she asked in disbelief.

Richie pointed over to the flatbed truck and stammered. “Well . . . um . . . er . . . We were fixing to take the sleigh off this morning when my son, Drew, accidentally put the truck in reverse and hit the gas too hard. It went flying onto—”

“My car,” Amanda finished. Her eyes were fixed on her violated Nissan.

“I’m awfully sorry. We’re going to pull the Santa out and call for a tow truck. Can I have them take it to a garage for you? I’ll take care of the repairs.”

Amanda shrugged. “Yeah, I guess it’s not drivable.”

Tate snickered. “You think? Hey, I’m going to get us some coffee while you’re sorting this out. I’ll be right back.”

“Thanks.” She turned to Richie. “It can be towed to the Nissan dealership on Market Street. Hold on a second.” She walked quickly over to the Jeep and pulled a business card out of her wallet. “Here’s my card. My cell is on the bottom.”

Richie took the card. “I also reported it to the police and called my insurance company. A cop was out earlier this morning taking a statement.” His hand went up, waving for Drew to join them.

The teenager walked over with his head hung low.

“My son has something to say.” He nudged him. “Go on.”

“I’m really sorry, ma’am,” Drew said. He kept his head down, avoiding Amanda. “I didn’t mean to wreck your car. I hope you still have a Merry Christmas.”

Amanda studied the boy. His body language showed his uncomfortable remorse. He couldn’t even look her in the eye. She believed he was truly sorry for what had happened and maybe a little embarrassed. She wasn’t going to rub it in his face.

“It’s fine. Accidents happen, right? I didn’t want to leave town this weekend, anyway. You did me a favor, Drew.” She chuckled. “Happy holidays to you both, too.”

Perhaps Richie would consider giving his son driving lessons for Christmas.

Amanda walked back over to the Jeep. She glanced around the empty parking lot. Did Tate go to Brazil for her coffee? Leaning against the front passenger door, she took a deep breath. The cold air filled her lungs.

She looked up to the cloudy sky. Santa’s butt lodged into her windshield had to be an omen from above to cancel her trip home. Grabbing her phone from her purse, she punched in her parents’ number. It was time to break the news. She would not be going home for Christmas.

* * *

Tate waited at the corner for the light to turn red. With hot coffee cups in both hands, he watched Richie and Drew step over the collection of toys on the ground.

He laughed. St. Nick crashing into her car was really something that could only happen to Amanda. It was pretty hilarious. Though he’d never admit that to her.

His gaze zoomed in on his co-anchor. Amanda leaned against his Jeep, talking on the phone. Even in yesterday’s wrinkled clothes and tousled hair, she was absolutely stunning. He hoped she wasn’t working. She was always chasing a story.

If only she would reconsider his proposition. It was his chance to spend some time with her outside the station. He had shared his plan with Lacy, the only person besides his Aunt Bridgette who knew how he really felt about his co-anchor. Lacy thought it was a good one.

Maybe it was a bit farfetched to pose as her boyfriend for a whole weekend, but sometimes the zaniest ideas worked.

He also wanted to visit the area. Amanda didn’t know this, but he, too, had once lived in western New York, not far from her home town. It was one of two secrets he was ready to reveal to her.

It was also probably the easier of the two to confess. She didn’t realize that years ago on a snowy Christmas Eve they had met as kids—an encounter that had made quite an impact on him growing up. He wasn’t sure how to bring it up without coming out as a shady stalker.

There was also the little matter that she despised him. He didn’t know how to change that, but last night he’d had an idea. If he could convince her to take him home with her, it just might give him the opportunity to come clean—about everything. He could take her to the place they had met, and hopefully, jog her memory.

He reached the Jeep. Amanda appeared to be in an uncomfortable exchange with the person on the other end of the phone.

“Mom, I said I was sorry. No, I’m not on the road yet. That’s why I’m calling. I had a late night and a bit of a car issue this morning.”

Tate glanced over. Richie had both hands on Santa’s hips, trying to remove the statue carefully from the window. Bet he regretted not going with an inflatable one.

“I don’t think I’m going to make—Why are you screaming? Slow down. I can’t understand you. Quinn’s water broke last night, and you’re all at the hospital? Why didn’t you call me?”

He handed her a coffee cup. “Two creams and two sugars. Just like you like it.”

“Thanks,” Amanda mouthed. She opened the door and climbed in.

Tate raced over to the driver’s side. He didn’t want to miss a word of her conversation.

“Why would I be mad? Just tell me—WHAT! He’s staying with you? Is his fiancée there too? Yes, I know he’s engaged. Why are they staying with you? Seriously? That’s terrible. Well, I guess you didn’t have a choice.”

“No, I’m not upset.” She made a motion to throw her phone out the window.

Tate put his key in the ignition and played with the heat. Something was going down with her ex-boyfriend. He thought back to last night. On their ride to Lacy’s, she had cried the whole way. He had taken off his tie and wiped her tears. What creep dumps his girlfriend on Christmas Eve in front of her entire family? No wonder she was bitter. She had every right to be.

He continued to eavesdrop.

“When were you going to tell me, Mom—when I bumped into them on my way to the bathroom? Who is she, anyway?”

Oh, boy. He would need to prepare for a fresh batch of tears if she knew the fiancée.

“You know what? Don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter. What he did to me is water under the bridge. I’ve moved on.”

Tate felt her tug on his suit.

“It was going to be a surprise, but I’m bringing someone home.” She glanced over. “His name is Tate Ryan. He’s my boyfriend.”

Tate leaned back in his seat and cracked a smile. Was this really happening? The faux boyfriend train had just left the platform. Final destination, Amanda’s heart. But his first stop would be to kick Brad’s ass.

CHAPTER FOUR

Amanda drummed her fingers on her knee, waiting for Tate to return with more coffee. He had stopped for gas just over the Maryland border. They were making good time even after stopping at her condo so she could freshen up, change, and pack her bags.

She peered outside the window at the bare tree branches covered with snow. They were fortunate that the roads were clear.

What a crazy twenty-four hours. The news story she’d get over, but Brad getting married?

And now he and his fiancée were living with her parents. What the hell? According to her mother, their apartment building had caught on fire last weekend and they lost everything. Amanda knew that Quinn and Mark didn’t have the extra room in their one bedroom cottage behind her parents’ house. They were saving to build their own log cabin the spring.

She fiddled with his satellite radio, landing on a nineties station. Much better than the alternative rock music Tate had made her listen to for the last three hours. Maybe a little Britney, Christina, or the Spice Girls would cheer her up. It usually did.

It didn’t surprise her that her parents would extend the offer to stay with them to Brad. She suspected that they had long forgiven him for what he did to her. He was Quinn’s brother-in-law, after all.

Who was he marrying? Her mom had been about to tell her when she had cut her off by blurting out that she was bringing a boyfriend home.

She couldn’t believe she had done that. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but what did she really know about Tate? Could he play the part of the doting boyfriend?

It was only this past January, not even a full year ago, that he was hired to co-anchor with her. She leaned her head on the passenger side window and pressed her cheek to the cool glass, remembering the first time she met him. That bus ride seemed so long ago . . .

* * *

“I really . . . hate . . . the . . . bus . . .” Amanda mumbled and took a seat. Her Nissan’s dead battery that morning forced her to take public transportation. “I’ll never get there.” She tapped her foot impatiently, watching fellow passengers slowly board. She should e-mail her new assistant, Lacy, and let her know she would be a few minutes late for the fourth of a series of unimpressive interviews for her new co-anchor. A stranger sat down in the empty seat next to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the man buttoning up his shirt.

“Morning,” he chirped.

“Morning,” she mumbled back, looking out the window to avoid his gaze. He couldn’t seriously be getting dressed. She tapped on her phone, texting Lacy. “OMG . . . You will never believe what the man sitting next to me is doing.”

“Let me guess,” the man said. “You’re probably typing ‘WTF’ to a friend right now.”

“Assistant,” she corrected him, without looking up from her phone.

“Sir, your tie is on the floor.” An older woman sitting behind them tapped the man’s shoulder and pointed toward the ground.

“Oh, geez. Thank you, ma’am.” He picked it up and draped it around his neck. “I had to run to make the bus.” He studied Amanda. “Hey, do I know you from somewhere? You look really familiar.”

She watched him put on his tie. It matched her royal blue suit perfectly. He was attractive with short black hair, blue eyes, and wire rimmed glasses. She also had to admit the suit he was piecing together made him even cuter. “No. I don’t think so.” She added, “Well, you may recognize me from television. I anchor the local NBC news. That is, if I ever get there.” She sighed impatiently.

“Sure! That’s it. Say, you’re quite good. That piece you did earlier this week on the mayor’s inauguration was really something.”

“Thank you,” she replied. She was currently working on another story on that elected official which was far less flattering. She began scrolling through her messages in hopes of avoiding any more chitchat.

Five minutes later, the bus turned the corner onto her station’s street. “Well, this is my stop. Excuse me.” She jumped up. The stranger quickly stood and stepped backwards, allowing her to slide out. Her bag accidentally hit him. “Sorry. Nice to meet you . . . um . . .”

“Tate.”

“Tate,” she repeated. Where had she heard that name before? She didn’t know anyone with that name. “Well, have a good day.”

“Thanks. I intend to. Hey, I’ll see you on the news,” he called out as she walked down the aisle.

* * *

Amanda laughed sarcastically. That had been the morning of Tate’s interview. He had known who she was all along on that bus ride and had been playing her. Typical.

Since he’d become her co-anchor, they’d had a tolerate/hate relationship. Mostly he got on her nerves. Where she was genuinely passionate about the work she did and logged long hours, he seemed to breeze in every day—often just before they went on air—without much ambition.

Despite this, their ratings skyrocketed shortly after he started. Viewers really liked and trusted him. She tried to not let his pompous indifference get to her, but yesterday’s humiliation set her back.

The driver-side door swung open. Tate slid in. “Let’s sail, Vicki Vale.”

A blast of cold air followed him, smacking Amanda straight in the face.

She rolled her eyes at the latest of a long line of reporter nicknames he called her. She reached for the cup of coffee. “Thanks.”

“Hey, you looked deep in thought. What are you thinking?”

“I was just thinking about . . .” She glanced away. “Never mind.”

“C’mon. You can tell your boyfriend.”

“Well, if you must know, I was thinking about the first time we met.”

“First time we met?”

“You know. On the bus. Don’t you remember?”

“Oh, right. The bus.”

She studied Tate’s face. How odd. He almost looked relieved. “You were going to your interview and sat next to me and pretended you didn’t recognize me.”

“I remember. What a great day.”

She laughed. “For you, perhaps.”

“Perhaps.” Tate started the car and turned up the heat, angling the vents toward Amanda. “Say, you should really try to cut down on the caffeine.”

“Are you kidding? If I could, I would have it injected intravenously. It’s my lifeline.” She took a large gulp, gave a smug smile, and shifted the vents toward him. She hated heat blowing directly on her.

“Have it your way.”

“I will.”

He had changed out of his suit into casual clothes. He now wore a maroon half-zipped sweater decorated with Christmas trees. A white t-shirt poked out underneath.

“Seriously?” she asked.

“What?”

“Your sweater.”

Tate glanced down at his chest. “What? My Aunt Bridgette gave me this sweater last year for Christmas. You don’t like it?”

“No. It’s not that. It’s just the Christmas trees. Let’s just say you’ll fit right in with my . . . Forget it. It’s fine. I guess I’m just not used to seeing you in anything but a suit and tie is all.”

“There’s a lot of things you haven’t seen me in.” Tate winked. “Or out of.”

Amanda snorted. “Ha, ha. Can we just go, please? I’d like us to see my family before Easter.”

Tate backed out of the parking lot. “So, tell me how are you going to explain your bringing home a boyfriend you’ve never even mentioned?”

Amanda ran her hand up and down her coffee cup, her fingers absorbing its warmth. “I’ve been thinking about that while you were putting on your Santa’s helper sweater,” she teased. “We’ve got to get a few facts straight.”

“Facts straight?”

“About us, silly.”

“You mean about our courtship? Say, have we slept together?” He chuckled.

She ignored him. “There are just a few details about you that we need to agree on.”

“About me? Okay, so what did you have in mind? Won’t they just be happy that you brought a man home and are not pining away for Brad?” He reached over and pushed number two on his radio, sending it back to the alternative rock station.

“Let’s start with the rules. You will no longer refer to me as Nancy Drew, Katie Couric, or any of the women from The View. Got it?”

“Got it.” Tate took a sip of his coffee. “No silly nicknames.”

“Beyond maybe—and let me stress maybe—a little hand holding, there will be no other public displays of affection. Keep your hands to yourself.”

“So, will we be sharing a room this weekend?”

Of course he would go there. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She hated to admit it, but their relationship would probably be more believable if they shared a room. She shrugged. “I guess we have to, but you get the floor.”

“You’d really put me on the floor?”

“I’d give you a pillow.” She laughed. “Maybe a blanket.” She turned and glanced out the window. Yesterday she’d wanted to strangle him and tonight they would be sleeping in the same room. What was wrong with this picture?

“Why are Brad and his fiancée staying with your parents?

“My mom said their apartment caught on fire. They had nowhere else to go.”

“That sucks.”

“Yes, it does.” For me, too.

A few awkward seconds ticked by. Tate broke the silence. “Okay so back to the public displays of affection. What happens if, say, you just happen to be standing under the mistletoe—then can I kiss you?”

“Absolutely not.”

“But wouldn’t it look strange for us not to kiss? I mean, we wouldn’t want to arouse suspicion.”

“Fine,” she relented. “If for some odd reason you find me under mistletoe you may kiss me, but quickly.”

“Let me get this straight. No hand-holding and no kissing, except under the mistletoe? Why am I pretending to be your boyfriend again?”

“This was your idea.”

“Yes, but wouldn’t you just love to make Brad jealous? We could really take this faux relationship over the top.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know. Something big though. Maybe I do something incredibly romantic at Christmas dinner.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

He smiled mischievously and patted her knee. “That’s for me to know.” He pulled back. “Sorry. No touching. Got it.”

She looked down at her knee that was oddly now tingling. Did his touch do that? “Well, just don’t embarrass me. Now where was I? Oh, yes. In any conversation regarding us, I will always take the lead. You can then follow and add to the conversation, but you can only make comments that back up what I’ve already shared.”

“Easy enough.”

“Let’s practice. So say my brother asks you what we are doing for New Year’s—”

“I say that we’ll be out of town skiing with friends,” Tate said confidently.

“No. Wrong answer.” Amanda shook her head. “I don’t ski anymore, and they know I don’t. Not since I twisted my ankle going down a slope when I was sixteen. Haven’t been on the slopes since. Wait for me to interrupt and respond with something like, ‘Oh, it will be low key this year. Because we took this weekend off to come here, we’re working New Year’s Eve.’ Then you can follow with . . .” She motioned for him to finish her sentence.

“We’ll probably ring in the New Year with Ryan Seacrest and a bottle of bubbly.” He looked at her for approval.

“Perfect,” she said. A picture of her snuggled up next to him on a couch entered her mind. She mentally swatted it away.

“So how long have we been dating?”

Amanda set her cup down. “Hmm . . . let’s say, six months. Any longer, my family might question why the secrecy.”

“Okay, six months it is. All right, anything else I should know?”

“Why, yes, as a matter of fact.” She took another sip of her coffee. “My family is going to grill me more than you on what you’re like. So, here are your hobbies. Listen carefully.”

“Wait. Am I hearing this correctly? You are going to tell me what my interests are? Wouldn’t it be easier to just ask me questions and get to know me? We’ve got at least five more hours before we get there.”

“I don’t know. I kind of like what I came up with for you. Brad will hate you. Plus, it will be easier for me to remember on the spot.” She sighed. “You know how I am on thinking on my feet.”

“All right,” Tate relented. “Lay it on me.”

“You love to cook. Brad can’t boil water. You’re ambitious and would consider moving to a higher media market to further your career. You want to get married and have kids. Wanting kids is a must. Brad was never sure if he wanted kids.”

“That’s cool. All of it is true, by the way.”

“Now for your hobbies. You like to hike, play tennis, and golf on occasion. You love coffee, of course.” She picked up her cup and toasted the air. “You like talking politics and especially love political humor shows. You also enjoy watching old-time classic movies. Any song from the nineties makes you smile.” Amanda hit the first button on the radio, putting it back on the nineties channel. “Oh, and you like dogs, but you’re really a cat person.”

“Negative, Ace,” Tate said, switching back to the alternative rock station. “I’m allergic to felines.”

“Well, just say you like them.” She sighed. They had some work to do before she was ready to flaunt him in front of Brad. “It’s not like we’re adopting one this weekend.”

“But I don’t. Why do I have to like them?” he asked.

“Because I do,” she replied. “And Brad doesn’t.”

“Okay, fine. I love cats. But Amanda, you do realize who you are bringing home with you?”

“No, who?”

Tate reach over and changed the radio back to the nineties channel and turned the volume up. “You.”

Twenty minutes later, Amanda was still stewing in her seat. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, and he drives too slow. Who under the age of sixty uses cruise control? Even her eighty-five-year-old grandmother with double knee replacements could have gotten them home faster. She smiled thinking about her grandmother. She couldn’t wait to see her. Her eyes rested on a shiny small object in the middle console.

“What’s that?” She pointed to the crystal rock.

Tate’s eyes followed hers. “It’s my good luck charm.”

“Good luck charm?” she repeated. “I wouldn’t peg you as the superstitious type.”

Tate shrugged. “I’m not. Someone gave it to me a long time ago. She told me my luck was about to change.”

“Oh, really? Who? Ms. Hot Pink Dress?”

“Why, jealous?”

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Hardly.”

“Well, for your information, it wasn’t a girlfriend. Here, hold out your hand,” he instructed.

“No.” She defiantly made a tight fist.

“Seriously, hold it out.”

“Why?”

“Ace, you do realize you’re going to have to trust me at some point? It would probably make our dating more believable if you did. Here, let’s practice,” he said, mocking her exact words from earlier.

Amanda reluctantly opened up her hand. “Fine.”

He placed the soft shiny stone in her palm. “Consider this now your lucky charm.”

“You’re giving me your rock?” She peered at the tiny object.

“Sure am. I’m guessing that you might need a little luck on your side this weekend, facing Brad and all.”

“Hmmm. Thanks. You’re probably right.” Amanda slumped down in her seat and turned away, looking out the window. Was she ready to face Brad and meet his fiancée?

She eyed a group of outlet shops. It would be nice to get out and stretch for a bit. “Let’s pull off at the next exit,” she said, tugging on Tate’s sweater. “I need to pick up a few more comfy outfits for this weekend.”

“You didn’t pack enough?”

“I was kind of in a rush. It will be good to get out of the Jeep. Maybe grab something to eat.”

Tate dutifully swerved off the highway onto the exit ramp and luckily found an empty parking space not too far from the stores. The main entrance was crowded with holiday shoppers racing in every direction.

Amanda jumped out and shouted over the festive holiday music blasting from the outdoor speakers. “Okay, I’m going to find some jeans and sweaters. You . . .” Amanda reached inside Tate’s unzipped jacket and yanked on his sweater.

“Do me a favor and buy a new one. Oh, and you probably should look for some warm gloves and boots. You’ll be spending a lot of time outside with my father and brother this weekend. We’ll meet in thirty minutes for a quick bite.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Tate saluted. “Hey, why will I be spending a lot of time outside?”

“You’ll see.” Amanda grinned, pushing him in the direction of the stores. “Soon, my dear boyfriend, you are going to experience first-hand what it’s like to be one of Santa’s elves.

* * *

Tate sat in the dressing room chair waiting for Amanda to emerge from her dressing room. She was probably right. He wasn’t so good in the romantic department.

He thought back to their earlier conversation. She’d caught him off guard by bringing up the bus. It was best to let her continue thinking that was the first time they’d met—for now. When he told her the truth, he wanted it to be perfect.

“Hey, Ace. You about done in there?” He reached in his coat pocket and pulled out his phone, scrolling through his e-mail. Since breaking the story, he had dozens of e-mails for follow-up interviews. He decided all of that could wait until after Christmas. He’d probably hand them over to Amanda, anyway. It was the right thing to do.

“Almost.” Amanda stepped out of the dressing room wearing a black knit turtleneck sweater that hugged her body along with dark blue jeans. She surveyed herself in the three way mirror. “These jeans will do.”

“That they will,” he muttered.

She looked over shoulder. “Did you say something?”

“No.” He grinned.

Her hand reached back and into her sweater. “Can you do me a favor and rip the tag off? I think I’m going to wear it now. I can’t reach it.”

Tate stared at her back. She wanted him to reach inside her sweater?

“Can you see it?”

“Sure.” He gently reached in and yanked on the tag. His fingers brushed against her neck. The slight feel of her skin sent an electric shock through him. “Here you go.” He handed her the tag. He cursed himself for feeling flushed from simply touching her neck.

“Are you okay?” She looked over her shoulder again.

“It’s warm in here.”

She glanced one last time in the mirror. “Well, I’m done. I think I have everything I need.”

She certainly did, and everything he needed. “So, Amanda . . .” He stood and juggled his bags filled with his recent purchases. “Do you have any questions for me?” Sure, he’d play the charade she’d orchestrated, but he wasn’t going to give up on her getting to know him. Maybe if she did, she’d realize they had a lot in common. Maybe she’d see him as real boyfriend material.

Amanda went back into the stall and shut the door. “No. Not really. I’ll be quick. I just want to try on another pair of jeans.”

From his chair, he watched the denim fabric fall to her pedicured feet. How he wished he was on the other side.

He stood up and leaned his back on on the stall’s door. “No questions at all? We’ve been hot and heavy for a year. Surely, you have some questions that will help make our relationship more believable.”

“Six months,” she corrected him. “No, I think I’m good.”

“Excuse me. Six months. Don’t you want to know anything about me?”

There was silence in the stall. “Okay, what was the name of the first girl you kissed?” she asked.

“Melanie Clearwater. Summer camp.” He chuckled, but crossed his fingers behind his back. Melanie wasn’t technically his first kiss.

The door swung open. She was smirking. “Figures.”

“What?”

“With a name like that . . . let me guess . . . cute, blonde, and perky. Cheerleader, right?”

“Actually, she had long red hair and the biggest b—”

“Stop.” She reached up and put her hand in front of his lips. “I don’t want to hear any more.”

“What? Her eyes were blue.”

Amanda turned to leave the dressing room. “It really doesn’t matter. I’ve already told you what your interests are. Remember? Golf, tennis, cooking . . .”

“Oh, right.” He nodded. “I forgot. I’m a version of you.”

“Tate, if this is going to work, you’ve got to stop trying to make this into more than it is.”

“What exactly is this to you?”

“Should I remind you that coming home with me for the holidays was your brilliant idea? Amanda gave Tate a puzzled look. “What I don’t quite understand is what exactly you’re getting out of this deal?”

He shrugged. “Just helping out my co-anchor .”

“Right. It’s all about helping me.” Amanda cocked her eyebrow skeptically. “Just like your on-air stunt yesterday. You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” She turned and headed to the register.

“No, no. I just thought you might want to learn something about the man you’re in love with.” He followed closely behind.

She turned around, flashing a devilish grin. He watched as she pulled a pine green men’s scarf from a mannequin and wrapped it around his neck.

“Pretending to be in love with,” she corrected. “And I do know something about you. You’re allergic to cats.”

After they finished shopping, they headed to the food court. While Amanda found an empty table, Tate pushed the cola dispenser, filling their cups.

What had just happened? The way she’d wrapped the scarf around his neck.

As far as flirting went, he realized it wasn’t nearly what he was used to—other women he encountered in Wilmington were much more aggressive. However, this was Amanda—his hot and cold co-anchor who was currently still miffed at him for yesterday’s debacle.

She’d get over it. Since he’d joined the news team, even his breathing seemed to irritate her. Still, every once in a while he’d catch her stealing a glance his way. He was determined to prove his attraction to her wasn’t one-sided.

“Okay, I get it.” He took a seat across from her. “I’m playing a part. But shouldn’t I learn a little bit about your family?” he asked.

“That’s probably a good idea.” Amanda pumped ketchup onto her plate and then opened a mayonnaise packet. She appeared to be mixing a dip for her fries.

“That’s disgusting.” He pointed to her red and white concoction.

“No it’s not,” she said. “Here, try it.” She dipped a fry and handed it to him.

He hesitated before taking a bite. “Not bad. I stand corrected.”

She shot him a smug smile. “All right. My family. There’s not too much to tell. I guess we’re an average American family. I’m the middle child of three. My dad’s name is Jack, and my mother’s is Diane.”

Tate burst out laughing. “That’s funny.” He dipped another fry into Amanda’s mixture and popped it into his mouth.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“Jack and Diane. Like the John Cougar Mellencamp song.

Amanda had a blank expression on her face. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on. Don’t tell me you don’t know the lyrics. Everyone our age does.” He started to sing the song.

“I’m not as old as you,” she shot back and shoved another fry in her mouth. “As you know, my sister, Quinn, is having a baby at any moment. Quinn’s husband’s name is Mark and Alex’s girlfriend is Brenda. She and I were in the same class in high school. Quinn and Mark have been married for a year and a half. They eloped in Las Vegas.”

“Really? They didn’t want a hometown wedding?” Tate watched as Amanda’s green eyes filled up.

Oh, no. What had he said? He was always putting his foot in his mouth. He reached for her hand. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” She pulled back. “Mark is Brad’s brother.”

“Your ex-boyfriend?”

“Yep. Brad’s my sister’s brother-in-law now. She and Mark eloped so I wouldn’t have to endure a year of wedding planning. Quinn’s never actually admitted that, but I’m not stupid.” She stood and slipped on her jacket.

He could tell she was fighting back a fresh batch of tears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s fine. We should probably get back on the road,” she said, ending the conversation.

Tate watched as she walked her tray to the garbage dispenser and rushed out the door. This was the second time he had seen her burst into tears over her ex-boyfriend. He hated seeing her in this state.

Stupid, she was not. Still heartbroken, he was sure of it.

CHAPTER FIVE

“Arrive at destination on left.” The familiar voice of Tate’s GPS echoed throughout his Jeep, interrupting the soft sounds of Christmas music.

This couldn’t be right. Could it? He pulled onto the side of the road. His navigation system had taken him down a dark and twisty path for the last fifteen minutes. There were few homes on either side. He shook Amanda’s shoulder gently. His eyes focused on the spectacle in front of him.

“What time is it?” She yawned and sat up. “Are we here already?”

“That’s what I would like to know. Amanda, is this your parents’ house?” He leaned over his steering wheel and peered out the window. In front of him, thousands of decorative red and green lights flickered on rows of Christmas trees at the bottom of a hill, showcasing what he could only describe as a cross between Santa’s Village and the middle of Times Square. A blanket of snow stretched at least a quarter of a mile up the hill. At the top was a beautiful two-story mountain log cabin. Glistening white Christmas lights outlined the house.

Amanda sighed. “Yep. We’re here.”

“This is amazing. Amanda, is your dad Santa Claus?” he asked, half joking.

“Not quite.”

“They could land 747 jets on your front yard. That tree in the middle has to be over thirty feet tall.” He pointed to the west side of the lawn. “Is that a horse and sleigh over there?”

“The horse is fake. I’d rather not talk about the sleigh.”

“Then we won’t.” He suspected she might have some unpleasant memories of it involving the infamous ex. Perhaps it was the scene of the aborted proposal.

Amanda sighed. “Good. Did your parents decorate their lawn for the holidays?” She reached behind her for her bags.

“No. Well, yeah, I guess. But this, well, this . . . wow . . . It’s just really something.” Tate rolled down his window to get a better look at the horse and sleigh and the other life-size figurines on display. He could hear the faint sound of Christmas music. Was it coming from the trees? “How much is your parents’ electric bill?”

“Geez, what’s with all the questions? I thought we were off the clock this weekend.” She rummaged through her purse, pulled out a lip gloss container, and applied a layer.

He looked over and smiled. “Yeah, but this is a story worth uncovering. Do they do this every year?”

“Since 1970, and the town helps pay for it on account of what my family does each year for the county. We get a lot of visitors this time of year.”

“Since 1970? Odd that I’ve never been here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly. Now wasn’t the time to go down memory lane.

“Come on. Drive up to the house. The driveway is over there,” she said, motioning to the right. “Just turn your lights off halfway up so we don’t wake anyone.”

“Because my car lights will wake them?” He chuckled as he turned up the driveway.

“Actually, you know what? I bet my parents are still at the hospital.”

Tate shut off the Jeep. “You ready?” He gave her an encouraging smile.

“I suppose so.” She put her hand on the door handle and hesitated.

“You got this, Ace. I’m right here.”

Amanda sighed. “I know.”

“And I’ll be here for you all weekend.”

“Are you sure you want to do this? You could still back out.”

He squeezed her arm. “Not a chance. Let’s show this ex-boyfriend and fiancée what true love really looks like. Stay right here.”

He jumped out of the Jeep, walked over to her side, and opened the door for her. “Here, let me take those for you.” He grabbed the bags in her lap and put out his hand.

“Thank you. How chivalrous.” She put her small hand in his and he helped her out.

“Showtime.” He threw his duffle back around his shoulder and followed Amanda up the walkway, breathing in the fresh scents of snow and pine needles.

Inside, Tate was knocked over by the delicious smells of chocolate and gingerbread. “Wow!” He admired the log cabin’s interior. “Did your father build this house? This slate flooring is gorgeous.”

“With the help of my grandfather and uncles. Shortly after he and Mom were married. Here, let me have those.” She took the bags from him and placed them in front of a half-turn staircase. “Let’s see if anyone is home.”

Tate followed her into the living room—a quaint country-style room with a magnificent crackling stone fireplace that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Several colorful stockings hung off the mantel.

His eyes moved from the fireplace to the rest of the living room. A beautifully decorated Douglas Fir Christmas tree radiated in front of the window. He suspected the tree was fresh from the lawn and guessed it to be about ten feet tall. It was decorated with ornaments of every shape and color. Silver tinsel dripped from the branches while twinkle lights winked. “Amanda, how can you possibly hate Christmas surrounded by all of this?” He reached out and touched a glass ornament. The large snowflake sparkled with silver glitter and blue rhinestones.

“Shhh . . .” She pointed to an elderly woman sleeping underneath a deep red blanket in a rocking chair. He hadn’t seen her when they first came in.

“Amanda, is that you? I must have fallen asleep.” The old woman stirred. An overweight grey tabby jumped from the old woman’s lap, shooting Tate a look of disdain. He hated cats. They were so judgmental.

“Grandma, hi.” Amanda bent over and kissed her cheek. “We didn’t mean to wake you. Is anyone else here?”

“No, dear. They’re all at the hospital. It’s just me and the animals. Quinn is having her baby tonight, but you already know that, don’t you?”

“Has she had it yet?”

“No one’s called.” She looked from Amanda to Tate. “Amanda, who is this young gentleman?” She smiled up at him, motioning for him to sit on the sofa next to her.

“Grandma, this is my boyfriend, Tate Ryan. Tate, this is my Grandma Turner.”

Tate sat on the edge of the couch cushion. “Mrs. Turner, it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“Tate. That’s a nice name. I once dated a fella named Tate. Or no. His name was Nate. That’s right. It was Nate—for Nathaniel. Such a nice young man he was. Although, he didn’t hold a candle to Grandpa Turner.” She touched his knee. “It’s so nice that you could join us for the holidays, Tate.”

“It’s my pleasure.” He felt her eyes studying him; there was a bit of amusement in them.

“What a fine sweater you have on,” she said, reaching to touch the Christmas trees on his chest.

Amanda rolled her eyes. “I told him it would be a hit.” She turned toward the fireplace, picked up a poker, and gave the log in the fire a poke. Eyeing the stockings, she noticed a small one with the name “Max” in silver cursive writing. It was much smaller than the other stockings and the only one with a name. “Grandma, who’s Max?” Quinn couldn’t possibly have chosen to name her daughter Max. Unless it was short for Maxine.

The front door suddenly shut. Tate glanced up to see a tall guy standing in the foyer. He looked to be his age—maybe slightly younger—and was wearing a police uniform. The uncomfortable expression on his face was a dead giveaway. This must be the scumbag ex.

Amanda whipped around and faced the police officer. “Hi, Brad,” she said flatly, still clutching the poker.

“Amanda.” Brad walked over and removed his police hat. “It’s nice to see you. Did you just get in?”

Tate rose from the couch and stood beside Amanda. He reached for the poker and set it next to the fireplace. Grabbing her hand, he threaded his fingers through hers. He could feel her tiny fingers shaking. He wish he could pull her into a warm hug and protect her from what was about to go down.

“Brad, this is Tate, er, um . . .” Amanda stammered. “He’s my . . . we’re . . . have been for six months…”

“Hey, Brad. I’m Tate Ryan.” He gave her hand a soft, reassuring squeeze—something he wished he could have done underneath the anchor desk when the teleprompter malfunctioned. “Her boyfriend.”

“I’m sorry to hear about the fire,” Amanda offered.

A petite woman joined them in the living room, removing a green wool hat and shaking her long red mane. Brad immediately put his arm around her. “Sweetheart, this is Amanda and her boyfriend, Tate. This is my fiancée, Melanie. Melanie Clearwater.”

Pain radiated through Tate’s hand. He looked down to see Amanda squeezing it hard. Did he just hear Brad correctly? Melanie Clearwater?

It couldn’t be.

Could it? The camp he’d gone to as a boy wasn’t far from this town. It didn’t help that she had the flaming red hair and bright blue eyes he remembered.

“It’s nice to meet you both.” Melanie studied Tate. “You look really familiar. Have we met before?” She removed her black pea coat and handed it to Brad.

He nodded. What were the odds that Melanie Clearwater was standing in front of him? Just act normal. “It’s been a long time, you look really—”

“Huge!” Amanda gasped. She let go of Tate’s hand and covered her mouth.

His gaze followed Amanda’s down to Melanie’s very round belly. Unless there was a Christmas goose in there, it was going to be a long weekend.

CHAPTER SIX

“Amanda, would you please stop?”

Amanda ignored Tate’s pleas and hurried inside Ira Davenport Hospital. She wanted to see her sister and the new baby. She was also anxious to block out what had just happened at her parents’ house.

Little chance of that happening. Brad was going to be a dad—and, by the looks of Melanie’s belly, very soon.

“Would you at least slow down?” Tate was hot on her heels. “Okay, enough of the silent treatment. You can’t be mad at me for this one.”

She stopped short in front of the elevator. “I’m always mad at you.” She shook her head. “What are the odds that Brad’s fiancée would be your middle school crush?”

“Well, given we’re from neighboring towns with small populations, the odds were probably quite good. What does it matter anyway?”

“It doesn’t.” Amanda looked up at the ceiling. “What did I do in a past life that was so terrible to deserve this?” The elevator opened. “And what is this about you growing up in Hammondsport? You’re from the area?”

“We didn’t live here very long.”

“Still, we’ve been dating for six months and this never came up?”

“Don’t you mean working together for a year?” Tate leaned back on the elevator’s wall.

“You know what I meant.” She pushed the third floor button.

The elevator doors opened to the maternity ward and Amanda made her way down the hallway, Tate following closely behind. “I’m tired and still in shock. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

They passed by a long window. Tiny pink and blue blankets caught her eye. She peered in at the newborn babies sleeping inside their cribs and rested a hand on the glass. How tiny they were. Brad’s would soon be in there too. Her eyes welled up again at that realization.

Tate’s hands were on her shoulders, twirling her around. “Oh, no you don’t. Not again.” He gently laid a finger under each eye. They caught her tears. “I know this is hard, but you’ve got to stop playing the victim, Ace.”

“I know. I am trying to get a grip.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Really, I am. It’s not like I’ve been pining over him. I knew it was over. It’s just hard seeing that he’s moved on. I mean, first he’s engaged. Now he’s going to be a father.”

“Well, technically, I think the pregnancy came first.”

“Still, it was only two years ago. Did you see the way he looked at her? He’s completely smitten.” She sighed. “Who can blame him? She’s gorgeous.”

“She’s not that pretty.”

“You really think so?”

“I like blondes.” He reached behind her and gently yanked her ponytail. “Spunky ones.”

She laughed. “Apparently not at summer camp that year.” Her heart began to tighten, and she turned away and looked back at the newborns. She really had meant what she said—she wasn’t pining over Brad. But why hadn’t he seen his future with her? Was she not wife material?

“Mandy!”

Amanda recognized that voice and spun on her heels. Her younger brother approached them. “Alex!” She hugged him. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She pulled back and brushed the last of her tears with the back of her hand. “Didn’t mean to get you wet.”

“Is everything okay?” Alex cocked his eyebrow and studied Tate.

“Fine. Everything’s fine,” Amanda said. “Alex, this is Tate Ryan.”

“Mom said you were bringing someone home.” He extended his hand, but shot Amanda a questioning look.

Tate shook it. “Hey, I’m going to go grab us some coffee. Can I get you anything, Alex?”

“No, I’m headed out. The cafeteria’s on the first floor, to the right.”

“Thanks, Tate,” Amanda said.

“Be right back.” Tate strolled down the hall.

She turned to Alex. “It’s been a long day.”

“You sure you’re all right?” He stared off in Tate’s direction, watching him get on the elevator.

“I will be.” She squared her shoulders determined not to let her heartache show. “How’s Quinn?”

“She’s good. There’s our niece.” He pointed to a tiny baby in the middle wrapped in a pink blanket.

Amanda peered in the window again. They’d all known Quinn was having a girl. Their sister could never keep a secret. “Oh my gosh! When was she born?”

“12:01 A.M.”

“She’s a Christmas Eve baby! How fitting for the Turner family.” She and Alex stood in silence for a few minutes watching the sleeping baby.

“Where’s Quinn?”

“Room 322. Mom and Dad just left.”

“She must be exhausted.”

“She could use some sleep.” He zipped up his jacket. “So how long have you been dating?”

“Dating?”

“Tate?”

“Oh, right. Since June.”

“Really?” Alex frowned. “Isn’t this the co-anchor you can’t stand?”

Crap! How could have she forgotten? She’d confided in Alex on more than one occasion that she thought Tate was arrogant and that he got on her nerves. This could ruin everything.

Play it cool, Amanda. God, she wished she were better at thinking on her feet. She’d never admit it to Tate, but he probably could give her a few pointers. It was like the teleprompter jam all over again.

She took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “That was before I got to know him. He really is quite wonderful.”

There. That wasn’t so hard. She didn’t need Tate to swoop in and save the day.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Really, but didn’t you just say last week you thought he was a flirt?”

She shifted uncomfortably. “Did I?”

He nodded. “More than once.”

“Well, what I meant was he has a way with our female viewers. It’s good for ratings. Honestly, I couldn’t be happier. Tate’s the best thing to ever happen to me,” she added for good measure.

Her brother shot her a look of disbelief. “Well, I need to hit the hay. Big day tomorrow. Did you tell Tate that he’ll be helping us?”

“Sort of.” She patted him on his back. “He’ll be ready in the morning. Promise you’ll take good care of him.”

“Oh, I’ll take good care of him all right. You can count on it.”

* * *

“So, we might have a tiny little problem.” Amanda walked into her childhood room and flipped on the light switch, dropping her suitcase.

“What would that be?” Tate followed her in and set his duffle bag down. The upstairs of the cabin was just as rustic and charming as the downstairs. He was going to love spending the weekend here pretending to be Amanda’s boyfriend. Not a bad way to spend his holiday as far as he was concerned.

“I forgot that I’ve pretty much given my brother a play-by-play of our altercations since day one and that I pretty much despise you.” She reached for a pillow from off the bed and dropped it on the floor. “He called me out on it tonight.”

“So we’ve had a few disagreements.”

She laughed “Yeah. Every week.”

“We do fight often, don’t we?”

She nodded. “It’s usually your fault.”

“You don’t really despise me, do you?”

“I guess not.” She grabbed a blanket lying over a rocking chair and handed it to Tate. “Here you go.”

He sat on the bed. “You’re seriously going to make me sleep on the floor?”

Amanda nodded with conviction then shook her head. “I guess that would be mean. We’re adults.” She waved a finger his way. “You’re sleeping above the comforter, though, and if you touch me, I’ll scream.

“Fine.” Tate chuckled. There were other, more pleasurable ways he’d like to make her scream.

Amanda picked up the pillow and threw it at Tate. “Anyway, my brother is overprotective. I’m sure he doesn’t want me to get hurt again.”

“Understandable.” He propped the pillow up on the headboard. “If I had a sister, I’m sure I’d look out for her, too.”

“We’ll need to prove to him we’re in love.”

He raised an interested eyebrow. “What do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know.” Amanda came over and sat next to him, stretching her legs and arching her back.

Tate slipped off his shoes, exhaustion finally setting in. Could he convince her that giving him a massage would be a great way to start? He doubted it. Leaning back, he crossed his feet and laid his head on the pillow. “So, Amanda. What will we be doing tomorrow? Is your dad Santa Claus?”

“No.” She pulled the elastic band out of her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders. “Well, at least he’s not the Santa Claus. The trees at the bottom of the hill—it’s our family business. We grow and sell them.” Amanda shot up and moved to the window, pushing back the ruby red curtains. “All of this is a Christmas tree farm. Did your family not get their tree from us?”

“No, we didn’t live here very long.” His heart tugged at the memory of his parents. He rolled over on his side and propped up on his elbow.

“Oh, that’s right. You said that earlier.”

“Is selling Christmas trees a fulltime business?”

“It can be, and for my family it is. The next few days are often two of our busiest.”

“I would think most people have their trees by now, don’t they?”

“Yes, but Christmas Eve for the Turners is always about making sure every family that wants one in this county has a tree. My family works overtime to make that happen.”

“That’s really awesome. How come you’ve never mentioned this before?”

She shrugged and straightened her sweater. “I guess I don’t share much about my personal life with my colleagues.” She peered outside the window. “Well, isn’t that interesting . . . .” She spun around. “Come here,” she demanded. “Quick.”

“What’s wrong?” He jumped off the bed.

“Don’t look.” She moved from the window. “Brad’s outside drinking a beer. He’s looking right up here.”

Tate grinned. “Why that Peeping Tom. Want me to go down and kick his ass?”

“I’ve got a better idea.” She grabbed the bottom of her sweater and yanked it over her head.

Tate blinked. “Amanda?” She was standing in front of him in a black satin bra. He stared at her breasts, wanting to reach out and unhook the material that stood between him and them.

“I’m tired of playing the victim.” She reached for his arm and positioned him so they were face to face in front of the window. Her eyes revealed a seductive glint.

“What are you doing?” Her hands were gently tugging his sweater.

“Oh, I think Tate Ryan knows exactly what I’m doing.” She yanked his sweater up.

He certainly did and helped her pull it over his head. Before it hit the floor, her lips were on his. Was Christmas coming early for him?

She jumped up and latched her legs around his hips.

Apparently it was.

He spun her around, gently cupping her round bottom. She was planting soft kisses on his neck while her hands ran up and down his back. This was way too good to be true.

“Is he looking?” She nibbled on his earlobe.

“Who?”

“Brad,” she muttered. “Is he still watching?” Her tongue probed his ear.

He closed his eyes and let out a soft moan. “I’m sure of it,” he whispered. His lips crashed into hers for another long kiss.

She broke contact. “Take me to the bed.”

He carried her from the window and gently laid her down on the satin red comforter. He leaned in to resume the kiss. His lips needed to be back on hers, to show her just how much he wanted her . . .

She squirmed from his grasp, crept over to the light switch, and flipped it off. Flopping back on the bed, she giggled and brought her knees up, covering her chest. “That was awesome!”

Tate cocked an eyebrow. It was a phrase he’d heard before, but usually it came after sex, not before.

“I’m sure Brad saw all of it. Thank you.” She reached out to high five him. “By the way, nice moves.”

Tate’s heart sank. The window show was all a charade. Of course, he’d known that, but somewhere between her straddling him and his groin tightening, he’d forgotten. All in a day’s work,” he mumbled and high fived her back. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

She swung her legs around to the floor and picked up her sweater. As quickly as it had come off, she slipped it back on.

The moment really was over. Tate rose from the bed. “Um, Amanda, if you’re done with me, I think I’m going to take a shower.” A cold one.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Quit it.” Amanda giggled and blocked her face with her hand. “Tate, cut it out. Someone might hear us.”

Her eyes popped open. It was daylight, and she was in her own bed—alone. Tate wasn’t showering her with kisses, but something was, and it had fur.

“Jingle Bells!” She sat up and hugged the rambunctious Jack Russell Terrier. The family dog continued to smother her with his wet tongue. “Jingles, I have missed you so much.” She rubbed his white belly.

The sound of water running in the adjoining bathroom signaled Tate must have jumped in the shower.

She thought back to the last twenty-four hours. Who could have predicted it would have started with Santa’s butt lodged in her car and ended with her straddling her co-anchor.

Tate certainly knew how to kiss. Wow! She hadn’t meant to go so over the top. Just enough for Brad’s benefit. But then, Tate had devoured her . . .

It was all for show, she rationalized. Still, when Tate had kissed her, her toes curled. She got caught up in the moment. Apparently, from her outburst in her sleep, she was still in it. What was wrong with her? This was Tate. He annoyed her on most days.

The warm aromas of coffee and maple syrup swirled in the air, causing her stomach to growl. Breakfast must be ready. It was nice to be home and in the room she spent so much of her time in growing up. Although, glancing around, she noticed her mother was now using the space primarily for holiday decoration storage.

To the left of her bed was a short alcove. It once held her desk and chair and was where she’d spent hours upon hours writing stories for her high school newspaper, dreaming of the day she would leave this town and become a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist.

Now, hundreds of square papier mâché boxes covered her beloved desk and the floor around it. The boxes were meticulously labeled and organized by “lights,” “tinsel,” “ornaments,” “bows and ribbons” and “angel tree toppers.” She got up and brought a box over to the bed then jumped back underneath the warm blankets. Opening it, she delicately pushed aside the red glittery tissue paper, revealing a beautiful angel in a glistening white satin dress.

She imagined a child gleefully placing the doll on the top of one of her father’s beautiful Christmas trees. She playfully touched the angel to Jingles’s wet nose before wrapping it back in the tissue paper and returning it to its box. With all the anxiety that this time of year gave her, she had to admit that this week always delivered magic and joy to many in this community, and her family played a big role in creating that magic.

Leaving her warm bed, she pushed back the red velvet drapes and peered through the glass. She could see her father on the south side of the front lawn inspecting the trees. He was, no doubt, preparing them for transport later this morning.

She grabbed a long pine green sweater that made her green eyes pop, along with black yoga pants and brown Ugg boots. She’d showered last night but could get changed and freshen up in an empty guest bathroom. She looked back at the dog, burried underneath a blanket, who was fast asleep on the bed. “Oh, no you don’t. We’re in this together.” She nudged him off the bed.

“Oh, wait.” She reached down and picked up the papier mâché box from the bed, gently returning it to where she had gotten it. “Heaven forbid Mom discovers a tampered box. I then would have no choice but to blame you, wouldn’t I?”

Jingles answered back with a highpitched bark.

“Let’s go.” She wanted to give Tate some privacy to finish in the shower. Leaning against the door, her thoughts went back to last night. After she’d kissed him silly, they’d fallen asleep. He’d been true to his word and slept above the covers.

Now hot water was drenching his naked body. Really, Amanda. What’s wrong with you? She couldn’t explain these new fantasies involving Tate that had hijacked her thoughts, but one thing was for sure: her weekend seemed to be looking up.

She dressed and brushed her teeth hurriedly in another upstairs bathroom and headed back to her room. The door was still closed, but she could hear Tate’s voice. He must be talking on the phone. Perhaps wishing his family a Merry Christmas. She smiled. Maybe he wasn’t the jerk she thought he was after all.

“Hey, Amanda.”

The smile on her face turned upside down. She turned around.

“Morning, Brad.” She forced the smile back.

He stood next to her. Gone was his police uniform. In its place, jeans and a dark blue flannel shirt that covered his broad shoulders. He was just as handsome as ever, wearing his Yankees baseball cap.

“Hi.”

“Did you sleep well last night? I, um . . .” she stammered. “I mean, we did.” She pointed to the bedroom door. “We were out like a light.”

“Listen, I know this is really awkward.”

“What? You and me?” She waved her hand. “That’s history. Water under the bridge. I’m really happy for you.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

She studied Brad. He sounded truly sincere. He’d moved on. It was probably time for her to do the same.

Besides, the butterflies she would usually get every time Brad entered a room hadn’t arrived. That had to mean something. Maybe her heart had finally caught up with her head and realized he wasn’t the one.

“Melanie seems nice,” she offered.

“Yeah, she’s great.”

“Congratulations on your engagement.”

“Thanks.” He adjusted his cap. “You seem happy.”

“I am. With Tate,” she added quickly. “We’re really happy.”

“So we saw.” Brad headed down the staircase. “I should go help your father.”

Amanda’s stood, mouth agape. What was he implying? “Wait. Hold up.” She chased him down the stairs, lunging for his arm. “What do you mean ‘we’?”

Brad smirked. “Might want to close the drapes next time.” He opened the front door and paused. “Tell your mom I enjoyed our talk last night.”

She stood in horror. Oh, God. Had there been someone outside with him? She couldn’t recall seeing anyone, let alone her mother. Her mom had to have been fast asleep by then. There’s no way her mother would have been standing outside in the dead of winter after midnight. He had to be messing with her.

She paced back and forth in the foyer. But what if someone else did see? What would she say? How would she explain?

She was pretty sure appearing in front of the guest bedroom window half naked while straddling an equally half-dressed man for all to see would put her on the naughty list.

* * *

Tate stepped out of shower and whipped a towel around his hips. He swooped his hand over the foggy mirror and cleared the mist that had collected—all the while singing “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” It didn’t go unnoticed that the song had special meaning for him this year.

Last night’s impromptu make out session was still fresh in his mind. Thank you, Brad, for being a voyeur. Even if it meant nothing to Amanda and had been merely an attempt on her part to piss off her ex-boyfriend, he had to admit kissing her was everything he had dreamed of and then some.

If only she felt the same way about him. Still, the way she responded to his touch . . . He’d been around the block a time or two. He thought he could tell when a woman wasn’t really into it. Her equally engaged lips suggested she’d enjoyed their charade every bit as much as he did. If she was completely faking it, she deserved an Oscar.

Pretending or not, he hoped today involved more kisses.

He dressed and headed downstairs where he found Amanda pacing in the foyer. This couldn’t be good. “Good morning. Everything okay?”

She stopped pacing. “Oh, hi. Yes . . . Er, no,” she stammered and then said, “Maybe.”

“Sounds like you’ve had quite a morning. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Did Alex say something?

“No.” She sighed. “But Brad did. Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he repeated and smiled down at her. What had Brad said that had her so worried?

“How did you sleep?”

“Out like a light. I didn’t kick you, did I?”

“No, you stayed on your side.” She looked away.

Was she turning red?

“Are you ready to meet my family?”

“Let’s do it.” Tate followed her into the warm, country style kitchen. Woven baskets, vintage canisters, and pictures in old frames gave the room a cozy charm. Tate took it all in. It instantly reminded him of his mother. She had loved the country.

A plump, middle-aged woman with medium length silver hair dressed in a long red sweater and mom jeans was flipping pancakes on the stove. This had to be Diane Turner.

When she turned around to greet them, he saw a bright Christmas tree in the middle of her sweater. He stifled the urge to laugh. The Turners certainly loved their Christmas trees.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in. Breakfast is on the stove.” She motioned to empty plates on the counter.

“Morning, Mom.” Amanda gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

Diane turned to Tate. “You must be the man my mother-in-law has been going on and on about meeting last night.”

“Guilty as charged. I’m Tate. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Turner. Amanda has told me so much about you, but she failed to mention the source of her beautiful looks.”

Diane chuckled. “Aren’t you a charmer. It’s nice to meet you, too. We’ve heard so . . . so little about you, but welcome. How did you sleep?”

“Like a light.”

“I bet you did. You and my daughter had quite an evening.” She raised her eyebrow at Amanda.

Amanda shifted restlessly. “Mom!”

Was he missing something?

Amanda sat at the kitchen’s center island. “It was a long trip. We can recap it later. We’re looking forward to helping out today. Did I tell you Tate lived in Hammondsport when he was a kid?”

“You didn’t really tell me anything about Tate, now did you?” Diane grinned. “Tate, does your family still live there?”

“No, my mom and I moved away when I was thirteen.”.”

“Well, it’s a lovely town. Can I get you some breakfast?”

“Only if it’s not too much trouble, and I can help you later decorate those Christmas cookies you’re baking.” He pointed to the mixing bowl. “I could smell the batter as soon as I entered the kitchen. Say, do you put eggnog in your cookies by any chance?”

Diane’s face lit up. “Why, yes. Yes, I do. Would you like a little sample?” She rummaged through the silverware drawer and pulled out a spoon. She scooped a large dollop of batter and handed it to Tate. “Not many people can guess that eggnog is my secret ingredient.”

Tate closed his eyes and tasted the batter. He grinned. “Just like I remembered.” His gaze rested on Amanda. It wasn’t the first time he’d tasted Diane Turner’s cookies. A fact he longed to share with his co-anchor. He handed the spoon to Diane. “Amazing, thank you.”

Diane patted his shoulder. “Amanda, why don’t you pour Tate a cup of coffee? Tate, did your mom use eggnog in her recipe?”

“No, she wasn’t much of a baker.”

“Where is she now?” Diane began to scoop the batter onto a cookie tray. “Is she disappointed you aren’t home this weekend?”

“She died when I was sixteen.” He glanced over at Amanda, her face full of concern. His heart melted.

“My dear boy. I’m so sorry. Pull up a stool and have some breakfast.”

Tate watched Mrs. Turner bustle around, fixing him a plate. How could he share the story of his mom passing when those memories inevitably led back to these very Christmas cookies and Amanda?

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Are you sure I can’t help you with those Christmas cookies, Mrs. Turner? Maybe roll out the batter for you?” Tate called from the foyer. He smirked at Amanda. “She loves me.”

Diane poked her head out of the kitchen’s doorway. “No, no. Mr. Turner and Alex could use your help lifting the trees into the trucks. When you get back tonight, I’ll be sure there are cookies and warm cocoa waiting for you.”

“I can’t wait,” Tate said.

Diane pointed to Amanda. “Dear, go introduce Tate to your father and then come help me welcome the volunteers. We’ll be loading the decorations soon.”

“Sure thing, Mom.”

“Chop, chop. We’ve got lots of families to visit.” Diane clapped her hands and disappeared.

Amanda pulled out their jackets from the closet. She was thinking about the conversation Tate just had with her mother. He had lost his mother at an early age. And where was his father? She shouldn’t have teased him yesterday that his family didn’t invite him home for Christmas.

“Here you go.” She handed him his jacket.

“Thanks.” He yanked his zipper halfway up.

“Say, um . . . I’m sorry to hear about your mom.” She looked at him and then down at her Uggs. She was never good at these kinds of conversations.

“It was a long time ago. It’s just—those cookies take me back. Way back. It’s the eggnog, you know.” He rubbed his hands together. “Is this the part where I spend the day outside helping your father?”

She brightened. “Yes, and Alex. Think your southern blood can handle being outside all day?” She opened the door. It was chilly but the sun was shining.

Tate zipped his jacket all the way up to his neck. “I think I can handle it. Remember, I did live here for a bit.”

“Hey, I wonder if we ever ran into each other at the mall or movies or something? How funny would that be?”

He gazed past her up at the snowy hills. “So how many trees are we delivering today?”

Why was he changing the subject? For some reason, he didn’t seem to want to talk about his past. Amanda, let it go. “I’m not sure. I haven’t seen my father’s list.”

“He keeps a list, huh? Checks it twice.”

“Very funny. My guess is around fifty. A tree is delivered complete with a tree stand, decorations, and angel or star for its top.”

“And your parents donate all the decorations?”

“Yep, with the help of local businesses.”

“How in the world do they get fifty trees delivered and decorated in one day?”

Amanda patted his shoulder. “You’ll see.”

“Great.” He clapped his hands together. “I’m ready.”

“You’ll be with my dad and brother this morning, roping firs and preparing them for transport. Then you’ll assist in the deliveries.”

“And what will you be doing?”

“I’m sure my mom’s got me assigned to help with the volunteers. I’ll meet up with you later this afternoon.” She laughed. “Then we’ll come home and I’m sure my mother and grandmother will fawn all over you this evening.”

“I like that part.” He chuckled. “Sounds like today will be fun. He reached out and touched her shoulder. “I’m really glad to be here.”

“Me too.” She felt her cheeks heat. “I mean we always can use the extra help.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“A regular Santa’s elf.” She smirked but then grew serious. “Today brings so much joy you just want to bottle it up and keep it with you for the whole year. You’ll see. Just wait until you witness the smiles on all the kids you meet. It’s really incredible.”

She dug her hands into her jacket pockets and kicked the snow on the ground with her boot. “But it also can be heartbreaking. I mean, many of these families have experienced some really awful things, and some of these folks have been getting trees from my family on this day for years. It can be a real sad dose of reality.”

“Amanda!” her dad called as he quickly made his way up the snowy path. He stopped and greeted them.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Good to see you.” He gave her a big hug.

She enthusiastically returned his embrace. She had missed her father.

“And is this the stranger my mother can’t stop talking about?” Her father extended a hand to Tate.

“Hi, Mr. Turner. I’m Tate.” He shook her father’s hand.

“Please call me Jack. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tate. I trust that Amanda has filled you in on the work we do today.”

“She has and I’m honored to help out, sir.”

“You’re in for a special day,” her father said, eyes twinkling. “Amanda, why don’t you take Tate over to help Alex. The boys can get acquainted and load the first round of trees. I need to run to my office and pick up the delivery roster for this morning,” he said and winked. “And grab a sugar cookie or two for the road.”

“See ya, Dad.” Amanda grabbed Tate’s hand. “Let’s go.” They reached the foot of the hill and the opening of the tree lot. “Hey, little brother,” she called out. “Are you here?”

“Hey, Mandy.” Alex popped his head out from inside the back of his truck. He jumped down. “Hi.” He stared straight at Tate, his curt greeting freezing in mid-air.

Amanda broke the awkward silence. “I’m going to leave you two to do your work. Alex, please be gentle on him,” she said and patted Tate’s chest for extra good measure.

“Oh, I’ll be gentle on him, Mandy. Don’t you worry,” Alex replied. “It will be a day he’ll never forget.”

She left the two and headed back up the hill. How could she get Alex to warm up to the idea that she and Tate were a couple? Maybe Tate would have better luck. She looked back. Of course he would; he was Mr. Quick Thinker. He’d spin some lie. By the time Tate was done with him, Alex would probably announce that he’d be Tate’s best man someday.

Halfway up, she spotted Jingles, galloping toward her with his tail wagging.

“Jingles, what are you doing out here?” Amanda bent down to pet her furry friend who now sported a doggie red sweater, identical to the one her mother had on. The Christmas tree covered his entire fury backside. “Seriously? Did Mom put this on you?” She straightened up. “Doesn’t anyone in this family get today off?” She laughed. “All right, Jingles. Where to next?”

As if he understood her question, the Jack Russell sprinted back up the hill toward her dad’s office, a smaller log cabin to the right of the main house.

“You can run, but you can’t hide from Christmas,” she yelled. “Or apparently my mother,” she muttered and followed Jingles to see if her dad needed any help.

“Dad, are you in here?” she called out, opening the door to the office.

“Amanda? Just putting on my Christmas sweater. Be right out,” her father said, emerging seconds later from the back room. His sweater matched her mother’s—and Jingles’s—perfectly.

“I see you’ve put on your uniform.” Amanda grinned.

“Your mother works very hard all year knitting these. Says it puts the volunteers in the holiday spirit.” He patted his stomach. “There’s a size small for you on the desk. What size is Tate?”

“I don’t know.” She paused. She should probably know what size her boyfriend was. “I mean, a large should fit him just fine. He has a thing for sweaters with Christmas trees on them. ”

“You don’t say? Terrific. It took us three years to get Brad to wear one. Remember?”

“Oh, I remember.” Another sign he wasn’t the one. She sighed. “I met Melanie last night.”

“This is probably a little awkward for you.” Jack began to pack his duffle bag. “Isn’t it?”

“Just a little.” She fiddled with her scarf. “But I understand why they are staying with you.”

“Yes, well, they’ll get back on their feet soon enough.” He pulled on his gloves and adjusted his cap. “Tate seems like a nice fella. At least your grandmother thinks so.”

“She sure does,” Amanda agreed.

“How long have you been dating?”

Amanda cringed inside. She hated lying to her father. “Since June.”

“How come you’ve never mentioned him before?”

“We’re keeping it quiet for now. Our colleagues don’t even know.”

“Well, we’re glad you’re home this weekend, kiddo. We’ve missed having you.”

“It’s nice to be home,” she said.

“It’s great to have the whole family together to celebrate the new baby. Hopefully we’ll make it to the hospital at some point today to say hello. Your mother made a tiny sweater for the little one.”

“Of course she did,” Amanda said, picking up her father’s delivery roster from his desk and studying the document. “Hey, Dad, why are the Martins on the list? Aren’t they one of the wealthiest families in town?”

“Aw, the Martins. Correction. They were one on of the wealthiest families. Unfortunately they lost everything two years ago in a Ponzi scheme, and Mr. Martin was diagnosed last month with pancreatic cancer.”

“Oh, my. That’s awful.” Amanda handed her dad his roster.

“Indeed. It’s been a tough year all around for them. The family just didn’t have it in them to celebrate the holidays this year. But they called yesterday to see if they could get a tree.”

“I’m glad. I really love what you do for these families, but the constant struggles some of them still go through is just heartbreaking. Wouldn’t it be great if for one year—just one year—you didn’t need to give any trees away, or even if the list was cut in half?”

“Today can be tough. No doubt about it. But there’s almost always a silver lining. I like to think we’re not in the Christmas tree business on this day but in the possibilities business. We give families the hope that things are going to get better, and for one day, we give them the strength to concentrate on what they have and not focus on the twists and turns that have brought them to this fleeting moment in time. What is that old saying? ‘This too shall pass.’”

“Well said, Dad. I should interview you for a story.”

Her father chuckled. “I think we should leave the camera to you. You’re much prettier.”

Amanda laughed with her dad then grew serious. “You’re right though. Getting through today and tomorrow can’t be easy for these families we help. I still remember like yesterday the time when I was, oh, gosh, maybe ten. You and I had just finished with the deliveries and stopped at a gas station, I think, in Hammondsport.”

He nodded. “Could have been.”

“You were helping a woman in a station wagon with directions? Her son was leaning against their station wagon. I couldn’t remember ever seeing someone so incredibly sad on Christmas Eve.”

She walked over to the office window and peered out. “You know what was so strange? I didn’t know what caused his pain, but I felt it, too. It was as if it was going straight through me. It was bizarre. I mean, I didn’t even know him, but I would have done anything that night to make his hurt go away.” She turned around and shrugged. “I guess it just broke my heart that he was so sad during the holidays.”

Her father came over and patted her shoulder. “I remember that night. Dear, you feel things you see very deeply. You always have. We suspect that compassion is why you became a reporter.”

Amanda nodded in agreement. “It was. But I don’t know. Something changed along the way. I feel so disconnected from those emotions lately.”

“Well, maybe those feelings will come back this weekend. I remember something else about that day.”

“That I was wearing stone washed jeans and really ugly legwarmers?” She wiggled her nose.

“No.” He chuckled. “I remember you asking me if you could give that boy the box of Christmas cookies your mom had made for us as a snack. From that moment on, we have always given out our cookies on this day. A wonderful tradition that you started.”

“It always comes back to the cookies,” Amanda exclaimed. “You know what? That night I learned the guarded secret ingredient from you, but I never told Mom that I knew.” She glanced up at the wall clock. “Shoot. Look at the time. I guess I should go back to the house and report for duty.”

“Yes. No doubt your mother has given her volunteers their marching orders.”

“I’m sure she has.” She laughed and peered out the window again. She could see Alex and Tate near her dad’s truck. “What the . . .” Her voice trailed off as she watched Tate attempting to tie a tree with his bare hands.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She turned around abruptly and moved away from the window. “Looks like the guys are almost done loading the trees. Hey, do you have a pair of work gloves you could loan Tate?”

“Why, yes. Alex should have an extra pair in his glove compartment. Don’t tell me he’s been preparing the trees without gloves? Why, they have to be almost done by now.”

“It appears so,” she said dryly. Her brother was making good on his word of taking good care of Tate.

* * *

Tate carried the last tree to Alex’s truck. He was drenched in pine needles and sap.

He must really hate me. His hands were killing him where the needles dug into his skin. Getting out of sticky and prickly situations wasn’t usually hard for him, but it had never been so literal either. He needed to talk to Alex and make peace before Amanda’s brother made him count each needle.

“So, Alex,” Tate said, leaning the final tree gently against the truck. He was sure this was only the beginning of the torture Alex planned on inflicting on him today. Time to address the elephant in the room.

Alex eyed him, reaching down to grab more rope.

Was her brother planning on choking him in broad daylight? On Christmas Eve, no less?

Alex ignored him and tied the last tree.

Tate let out a slow breath. “You seemed suprised to see me last night, and I think I know why.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Alex yanked on the rope.

“I know Amanda’s filled you in on our love/hate relationship. It’s really not like that anymore.”

Alex glanced up. “Look. I don’t know you, but Mandy is my sister. I’m going to always look out for her. Got it?”

“Yeah, man. Definitely understand, but you should know that I’m crazy about her. I have been for quite some time.” He was slightly taken aback by his delcaration, but it felt good to reveal his feelings out loud. Even if it wasn’t to Amanda.

Jack appeared with a red duffle bag over his shoulder. “Ready to go, boys?” He eyed Tate. “Why, son, look at you. You are covered in sap and needles.” He reached over and brushed some spruce off Tate’s jacket onto the fresh snow. Why aren’t you wearing gloves? Alex keeps a couple spares in his glove compartment.”

“He does?” Tate asked coolly.

Jack nodded. “Alex, go get Tate some gloves.” He rummaged through his duffle bag. “Here.” He handed Tate a bottle of cooking spray. “Spray this on your hands. It will take the sap right off.”

“Thanks.” Tate took the spray.

“An old trick Diane taught me. She read it in one of her magazines.”

“Hey, Dad, we ready to rock-n-roll?” Alex came around from the front of the truck and flung a pair of brown work gloves at Tate. “No hard feelings,” he said slyly.

“None,” Tate responded, trying his best to not sound annoyed.

Jack waved his hands up in the air. “Hold on a second. You boys aren’t quite ready. Alex’s mother will have my head if I don’t have you both wear these.” He pulled two red sweaters out of his duffle bag. “Amanda said this should fit.” He handed Tate a sweater.

Tate started to laugh. “Thank you, sir.”

“What’s so funny?” Alex threw his on and proudly patted the Christmas tree in the middle of his chest. “Afraid one of your fans will see? Relax. I doubt you’ll be recognized here.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just I have a similar sweater. I had it on yesterday. Your grandmother seemed to like it,” Tate said smugly. He took off his jacket and pulled the sweater over his flannel shirt. Alex was inches from his face.

“I’m watching you, Casanova.”

Tate smiled wryly. He might need a Christmas miracle to get through this day unharmed.

* * *

Amanda walked back up to the house, the mandatory Christmas sweater tucked under her arm. Something about wearing the same thing as Tate made her a little giddy.

Their colleagues at the station would die if they saw them in matching sweaters. She’d try to remember to snatch their picture at some point today.

On second thought, that would only bring probing questions as to why they spent Christmas together. Better not to have any physical proof of this weekend.

Her parents’ driveway now bustled with activity as her mother’s volunteers scrambled to load their cars with decorations. It was going to be a wonderful day.

She needed to get back inside—she hadn’t meant to be gone so long. It’s just that she’d enjoyed her earlier talks with Tate and then with her dad. Wasn’t that what this time of year was about? Connecting with the ones you love . . .

Whoa! Where did that come from? She wasn’t in love with Tate. Having a faux boyfriend must be going to her head. Still, she had to admit, the lighter moments spent with him were helping her remember how much she really did enjoy this time of year. Making out with him was certainly the most enjoyable of those moments. The way his lips caressed hers . . .

“Amanda!” Alex’s girlfriend, Brenda, ran over to greet her. Always stylish since they were in high school, she had on a cute black ski jacket with matching black snow boots. Her mandatory sweater looked great with black tights.

“Brenda!” Amanda hugged her childhood friend. Brenda was a couple years older than Alex, but they had known each other almost all their lives.

Amanda wholeheartedly approved of the relationship. Brenda’s maturity and wholesomeness grounded her smart-aleck brother.

“I hoped to run into you this morning. It’s nice to see you with your clothes on.” She giggled.

Amanda drew back. “Not you, too? Did the whole town see us?”

“I thought for a second Alex orchestrated a Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus strip poker game upstairs and didn’t invite me!” she teased.

“Nope. Although it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if he did organize one at some point this weekend. You still have some time to make your elf costume.” Amanda winked.

Brenda laughed and then gave Amanda a devilish grin. “So is the rumor true? Is your co-anchor the guy you brought home and got hot and heavy with last night? I couldn’t quite tell from down below.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Amanda brought her hand to her chest and feigned modesty. “I would never do anything of the sort.”

“Yeah, right. I think I know my best friend better than that,” Brenda fired back. “Dish, girl.”

They entered the house and proceeded to the kitchen. “Fine, yes, it’s true. Tate’s with Dad right now.”

Brenda let out a squeal and grabbed Amanda’s arm. “That’s awesome! I watch your news show on the Internet all the time. Man, Tate Ryan is one gorgeous guy.”

He sure is. Brenda didn’t know the half of it. “He is, isn’t he?”

She leaned on the kitchen island feeling a little flushed from remembering how awesome Tate’s arms felt around her as he carried her to the bed. If she hadn’t moved out from under him would they have taken it further?

Perhaps she’d have to think up some reason to resume physical contact later today. Strategically hang some mistletoe around the house. Maybe over their bed. Now she was being silly, but gosh darn it, it felt good.

“Earth to Amanda.” Brenda waved her hand in front of Amanda.

“Sorry. She snapped back to the present and fanned her face. “Is it hot in here?”

“I’m fine.” Brenda smirked.

“So who else saw us?”

“Just Brad and me.”

“Really? So my mom wasn’t with you two?”

“God, no. How awkward would have that been? Hey, Mrs. Turner. Look up there. It’s your daughter doing a strip tease.” She laughed. “No. It was just the two of us. We were having a beer. Alex had gone to bed, but I still needed to unwind a bit.”

Amanda let out a huge sigh. “Thank goodness. I knew Brad was lying.”

“Lying about what?”

“Oh, nothing. He just insinuated that my mom had been out there, too.”

“Stirring the pot. That’s Brad for you.” She put her hand on Amanda’s shoulder. “Hey, how are you holding up?”

“I take it you are referring to Brad’s fiancée.”

“So you know?”

“Yep.” She reached for an empty mug on the counter and poured a cup of coffee.

“I’m sure none of this is easy on you, being around Melanie and the baby.”

“It’s okay. I think I’m making peace with all of it.”

Brenda arched an eyebrow.

“No. Really, I am.” Amanda shrugged and reached for the sugar bowl, scooping out a heap and mixing it into her coffee. “Melanie seems like a nice girl. Besides, I’ll be back in Wilmington way before the baby comes.”

“Baby comes?” Brenda asked. “Oh, you mean—”

Amanda’s mother walked into the kitchen. She was holding her finger to her mouth.

Amanda’s eyes narrowed. Was her mother instructing Brenda to stop talking?

“Amanda, I need you to bake an extra batch of sugar cookies. We’re running low.”

“Sure, Mom.” She put her hands on her hips. Something wasn’t quite right. They were keeping something from her. “But first I’d like to know what you two are hiding.”

Brenda pushed off the stool. “I should go. Lots to do today.”

Amanda raced over and blocked the back door. “No one leaves this room until I get some answers.” She eyed Brenda and then her mother. “Come on, you two,” she pleaded. “It’s Christmas, for God’s sake.”

Her mother was the first to speak. “Now’s not the time. We will have a long talk this afternoon after the deliveries.”

Amanda stayed frozen in position at the door, arms now crossed. She hated secrets, especially ones involving Brad.

“I will tell this whole town what you put in your sugar cookies if you don’t tell me right now,” she threatened. “All it would take is one phone call to the news station. I still have connections.”

“Fine.” Amanda’s mother sighed in defeat. “Honey, we just wanted to protect you.”

“Mom, I love you guys for wanting to spare my feelings, but I don’t need protection. Honestly, I don’t. I’m over Brad. He fell in love with someone—I can’t fault him for that; we were already broken up. Time has passed, he’s moved on. So did I. Nothing you could say about him would upset me.”

Brenda was the first to speak. “The baby they’re about to have is their second.”

Except that.

CHAPTER NINE

“Well, here we are. Our first stop.” Jack parked the truck in front of a tethered singlewide trailer.

Tate peered out the front windshield. They were at the last of several weather beaten trailers that lined the street.

“Our first delivery is to Kristen Bailey. She’s a single mother of two and works in the deli department of our town’s grocery. Nice lady. Every now and then she puts a little extra roast beef into my cart.” He winked and patted his belly.

“Her two girls are good kids. They really deserve a nice Christmas this year. Things have been pretty tough for them.”

Tate jumped out of the truck and shook off the residual pine needles. The ride over was short, and he’d enjoyed their casual conversation about the Yankees and Red Sox. It reminded him of similar moments with his dad. He was also grateful that Alex was off doing separate deliveries. If he could avoid Amanda’s brother for most of the day, it would probably be for the better.

“This shouldn’t take too long,” Jack said. “I average fifteen to twenty minutes per delivery. Keeps us on track for the day. Diane or one of her volunteers will be along shortly to drop off the ornaments and cookies.”

Tate followed him to the rear of the truck and looked back. He noticed a small pair of eyes peering out from a thick brown curtain, watching him intently. He waved, and the eyes disappeared behind the drapes.

Tate and Jack hauled the tree to the front porch. “Watch your footing. These steps look a little worn,” Jack cautioned. They maneuvered their way through the pieces of old furniture cluttering the enclosed porch. “Diane told me that Kristen reupholsters furniture for some extra cash.”

The door to the trailer flew open and a woman who appeared to be few years older than Tate greeted them. She was wearing a brown sweater and faded jeans, and her long brown hair was swept up in a messy bun. She greeted them with a wide smile. Her front tooth was chipped.

“Hi, Jack. Come on in. Please excuse the mess. I’ve been working on a few projects this month.”

Tate helped Jack carry the tree in. The warm trailer smelled of peppermint and stale smoke. “Good morning, ma’am.”

Kristen squinted her eyes. “Hi. Well, you’re certainly not Alex,” she said and reached her hand to her face. She tucked her wild strands behind her ear.

“No, no. I’m Tate.”

“Amanda’s boyfriend,” Jack interjected.

“Amanda! How is she? Is she still living down south?”

“Yes. Wilmington. Still a news anchor,” Jack replied.

“Well, we always knew she was going places. Didn’t we? Much too talented to stay around these parts.”

“You might see her later today. She’s helping her mother with the ornaments. Where would you like your tree?”

“In the living room in front of the window. I’ve cleared an area over there.” Kristen pointed to an empty space in front of the brown curtains.

Unlike the cluttered front porch, the living room was sparse, consisting of one worn tan couch and a matching tan chair. Two little girls were sitting on the carpet in front of a coffee table that was covered with construction paper, glitter, and markers. Their eyes were glued to the tree.

“You guys are just so wonderful. Real angels sent from up above.” She held an unlit cigarette in the air. “It’s been just me and the girls since their d-a-d skipped out last year. Honestly, with the way the economy is and gas prices are going, I didn’t think I’d be able to afford Christmas this year. I can’t thank you enough, Jack.”

“It’s our pleasure,” Jack said and winked. “Besides, it’s really the least I can do for the woman who ensures I get extra pulled pork each visit to the deli.” He patted Kristen’s shoulder.

“Ha, ha. I’m not sure if that puts me on your wife’s nice list or her naughty one.”

Jack laughed as he untied the Douglas Fir. Tate helped him lift it into the tree stand, but the tree’s trunk didn’t easily slide in.

“I have some tools in my truck. I’ll be right back.” Jack left the trailer.

Tate leaned the tree against the living room wall. He felt a short tug on his sweater.

“Would you like to help me and my sister decorate ornaments for our tree?” A young girl around five or six with mousy brown hair in a ponytail peered up at him with big round eyes.

“Chloe, I don’t think Tate has time to make ornaments. He has to help Mr. Turner deliver Christmas trees to other families.” Kristen gently ushered her daughter back to the coffee table. “Sorry,” she mouthed to him.

“I think I have time for one snowflake,” Tate offered. He sat down on the carpet next to Chloe.

She handed him a pair of children’s scissors and a white piece of construction paper. “Here, you can make a snowflake. Danielle is coloring the reindeer.”

“Thank you.” Tate smiled and made various zigzag cuts into the white paper. He remembered doing this himself when he was her age. He and his mother used to make homemade decorations for their tree. How quickly forgotten memories come back, he mused.

He glanced over at Danielle, who quietly filled in lines with a brown crayon. She looked to be one or two years younger than Chloe. “Hi. Do you like to color?” he asked.

Danielle ignored Tate’s question and continued to move her crayon back and forth.

“She doesn’t talk to strangers,” Chloe said. “She’s four, and I’m five.”

“That’s quite all right. So, Chloe, what are you asking Santa Claus for this year?”

“Oh, Santa doesn’t stop here.” She picked up a silver glitter stick and glided it across her snowflake.

“He doesn’t? Why not?” Judging by the trailer’s contents, he suspected he knew the answer.

She shrugged her tiny shoulders. “Momma says he runs out of time because we are the last trailer in the park. She said she talked to him at the mall, and this year, he wants to see our tree. We’ve been working hard on these decorations, so he’ll see our pretty tree from the window and want to come in.”

Tate’s heart melted. “Well, I’m sure he’s going to love these decorations. And you know what he’s going to want when he gets here?”

“What?” Chloe’s eyes widened.

“Christmas cookies! And you’re in luck. Some really nice ladies are going to bring you some later today to leave out for Santa.”

“Really? A boy in my class says that he leaves Christmas cookies out each year, and you know what?”

“What?” Tate was thoroughly amused with the conversation he was having with the five year old. He had forgotten what it was like to anticipate Christmas.

“Santa eats them all!” She giggled.

He laughed with her. “I’m sure he does.” Jack had returned with his tools. “How does this look?” He handed the snowflake to Chloe and stood up to help Jack.

“Beautiful!” she screamed.

Minutes later, the plump Douglas Fir stood magnificently inside the trailer. Its pine scent filled the air. Even undecorated, Tate marveled at how exquisite it was.

“Here.” Chloe handed Tate his snowflake. “Put it on the tree.”

He took the white cutout from her tiny hand and kneeled down, poking the snowflake gently through a branch. “How about right here?”

“Perfect,” Chloe said. She placed the snowflake she had made next to his.

“Hey, Tate. You about ready?” Jack called from the doorway.

“Yes, sir.” He lowered his hand to shake Chloe’s tiny one. From her puzzled expression, he knew she didn’t know what to do with it. He reached for her hand and gently shook it. “Merry Christmas, Chloe. You too, Danielle.”

Chloe continued to hold onto his hand. “Will you come back and see our tree tonight? Maybe you could come back for dinner? We’re having spaghetti and meatballs!”

“Christmas Eve dinners are my favorite because you know what that means?”

“What?”

“Leftovers!” He squeezed Chloe’s hand.

“Pleeeeeeease come back,” she pleaded.

He let go of her hand and patted her head. “If I can, I will.” His eyes met Kristen’s and guilt washed over him. They both knew he wouldn’t be returning.

He paused in the short doorway and waved goodbye. Danielle gave him a shy wave.

“Looks like you made two little friends.” Jack opened the door and motioned for Tate to go first.

Tate smiled. His eyes were watering. “Will this day get any easier?”

“No. Not really.” Jack headed toward the truck. “But it may just put your life into perspective.”

“I think it just did.”

* * *

Amanda added all of the ingredients from her mother’s sugar cookie recipe into a large mixing bowl. After helping make these cookies for so many years, she knew the recipe by heart. Her hand clenched the wooden spoon as she mixed in the eggnog. Batter flew out of the bowl and onto the floor.

“Son of an elf!”

She bent down and wiped the splattered batter with a washcloth. She was still fuming from earlier. Had Brad knocked Melanie up shortly after he’d broken up with her? Had he met Melanie while they were dating? What if he broke up with her that night two years ago to be with Melanie?

She wasn’t in love with Brad anymore, but hearing the news that he’d fathered a baby shortly after they’d broken up delivered a fresh blow to her ego. How could she have been so wrong about him and what they meant to each other? She had picked up and relocated to a different part of the country to get over him, whereas he’d quickly moved on and was now a father—of two.

“Hey, honey.” Her mother scurried in, interrupting Amanda’s thoughts. She had on a black parka and bright red scarf. She must be heading out to make her deliveries.

“So where is this love child?” Amanda smoothed the apron she had put on. She now realized the child stocking hanging from the mantle was for their son—who she assumed was named Max. He must have been upstairs sound asleep since it was so late when they got in.

“Amanda!” Her mother shot her a disapproving look. “Someone might hear you.”

“I just find it odd that the baby isn’t here.”

“I believe they went to visit Melanie’s mother earlier this morning. She’s in the nursing home on Route 54. She has stage four cancer.”

“Oh.” Amanda stared at her feet. “I’m sorry. Look, I don’t mean to be hard on Brad or Melanie. I know they’re going through a hard time with the fire and all. I’m just frustrated by all the secrecy.”

“We just thought the news would upset you. You haven’t been home in two years. We wanted to spare your feelings. That’s all.”

“But I was going to find out this weekend? Or were you going to lock them all upstairs?”

“We were planning on telling you as soon as you arrived last night, but then your sister went into labor.”

“Still, I’m a grown woman. You should have told me before this. I could have handled it.” She picked up the wooden spoon and went back to stirring the batter. This time without the death grip. “Besides, I have a boyfriend.”

Her mother beamed. She walked over and brushed Amanda’s bangs out of her eyes. A motherly habit she never could break. “We’re all looking forward to getting to know Tate this weekend.”

“I am too.”

Her mother raised her eyebrow.

“I mean I’m looking forward to your getting to know him. I already know him.” That explanation seemed enough to erase the confused look from her mother’s face.

Amanda bit her lip. Outside of work, there wasn’t much she knew about Tate except he had horrible taste in music and wore ridiculous sweaters, but he also knew how to deliver one amazing, knock-your-socks-off kiss on demand.

Her mother grabbed her car keys from the counter. “I was thinking that after you finish with the cookies you could take your grandmother over to the hospital to visit with Quinn and the baby?” She turned to leave the kitchen. “If that’s okay?”

Amanda followed her to the living room. “You don’t need me to deliver any ornaments and cookies?”

“No, I think the volunteers have it covered. Perhaps you and Tate could take the afternoon off and spend some time together.” Her mother walked over to Grandma Turner who was watching television in her rocking chair.

“Mom,” she said over the TV. “Amanda is going to bake Christmas cookies this morning and then take you to see Quinn and the baby. Let her know if you need anything.”

“You don’t need to shout.” Grandma Turner peered up from her rocking chair. “Where is that young gentleman Amanda brought home with her? I want to see him, too.”

“He’s helping Jack and Alex this morning. You’ll have plenty of time to get to know Tate this weekend. As will we all.” She turned toward Amanda. “I’m going to stop by the mall and buy Tate a gift to open tomorrow. Is there anything he needs?”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. We’re not doing gifts this year.”

“You’re not?”

“We’re saving up for a vacation. A long one—” Amanda added, “to Africa.”

“Really?” Her mother shot her another skeptical look. “Well, you know it’s tradition to open gifts before Christmas dinner. I’ll just pick up something. What does he like?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what he likes?”

Amanda smiled wryly. Leave it to her mother to question the relationship. “He likes Christmas sweaters. Tacky ones.”

Her mother patted her arm. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She kissed her on her cheek and disappeared out the door.

Amanda returned to the kitchen and went back to her baking. She didn’t like lying to her family about Tate, but her pride was still holding the truth hostage.

She wondered if he was enjoying his time with her dad. She hoped Alex had put a moratorium on tormenting him.

Her grandmother appeared in the doorway. She walked slowly with her cane into the kitchen. Her knee always gave her trouble.

“Here, Grandma, let me help you.” She took her grandmother’s arm and helped her to a small table with two chairs. It overlooked the front hill. “See you’ve got your sweater on,” she teased and gave it a gentle tug.

“Oh, yes. Your mom had it ready for me shortly after Thanksgiving. Come to think of it, I think she gave it to me on Thanksgiving.” She chuckled. “Think today is important to her?”

“Pretty sure it’s up there with birthdays, anniversaries, weddings, and new grandbabies.” Amanda handed her a spoon with a dollop of batter. “Can you try this for me?”

Her grandmother popped the spoon into her mouth. “Perfect. Just the right amount of eggnog. Brenda puts way too much in her batches.”

“Brenda knows the secret ingredient already? She’s not even a Turner yet. Wow, Mom is really relaxing the rules.” She grabbed the rolling pin and began rolling out the white dough. “She even told Tate this morning, but I thought that was only because he guessed it.”

“Well, here we are. Another Christmas.” Her grandmother peered out the window. “You know, your grandfather proposed to me during Christmas dinner.”

Amanda picked up a cookie cutter in the shape of a snowman and massaged it into the soft dough, pressing the cutter with her fingertips. She had heard this story many times, but it never got old. She also loved when her grandmother went all nostalgic and talked about her grandfather.

“He had just come home from the war on account of his injured leg. That day didn’t start out so well, and I thought it was going to be the worst Christmas ever. Before your grandfather left, he asked me to look after his dog, Charlie. His parents were much older than mine, and he felt that the pup would be better off with my family.”

“My dad, your great grandfather, loved that collie from day one. They were inseparable. They would spend hours outside doing farm chores or sitting on the back porch. Well, that Christmas, we had the worst weather. Your grandfather had been gone over a year. The infamous blizzard of ’40 blew in on Christmas Eve and continued throughout most of Christmas day.

She peered out the window. Amanda followed her gaze to the snowy lawn. It would be another white Christmas—though, thankfully, not a blizzard.

Amanda’s grandmother continued. “Oh, heavens, what a storm that was. Well, on Christmas Eve morning, Charlie stood at the back door and started barking something fierce. He was such a quiet dog. We couldn’t figure out what the devil had wound him up.”

My brother opened the back door to see what all the commotion was about, and . . . bam!” She slapped her hands together. “The dog took off down the front lawn and into the woods.”

“Oh, no! Grandpa’s dog ran away. I always forget this part. Did he come back?” She continued to meticulously cut out cookie dough using an assortment of holiday cookie cutters.

“We searched for him all morning. No sign whatsoever. We thought he was lost in the woods and would freeze to death. I didn’t know what I was going to tell your grandfather.”

“Poor Charlie.”

“By dinner time, the snow had subsided but still no dog. None of us were in the mood to celebrate. I remember saying a short prayer at dinner, asking God to bring your grandfather and Charlie safely home to us.”

Amanda took a seat across from her grandmother and propped up one elbow, resting her chin in her hand. She knew the ending but played along. “That’s awful about Charlie, but you must have been so worried that you might never see Grandpa again.”

“Oh, I was. When he first went overseas, I didn’t doubt for a second that he would come home. But as the war continued, well, you start to lose faith. I would go weeks without a letter. Communication back then was not as good as it is today. No e-mail.” She snickered.

“Can’t imagine a life without e-mail. So what happened?” Amanda stood up, went back to the kitchen island and began to dunk the cutouts into the cold and thick eggnog mixture. The final touch to her mother’s secret sugar cookies. She knew the happy ending was coming.

“Shortly after we started eating, we heard a loud bark followed by people singing outside. My dad opened the front door and there stood our neighbors on our lawn singing Christmas carols. I looked out and by golly, in the middle of the small crowd was your grandfather carrying a four foot Christmas tree. Next to him was Charlie!”

Amanda smiled. Here it was. She knew what happened next as if she had been there and personally witnessed it.

“He was my present that year. He set the tree in the snow, grabbed my hand, and got down on one knee.”

“Grandma, that is such a sweet story. How did they find Charlie again?”

“The day that he left, that dog knew your grandfather was coming home. We just knew it. I think animals have a sense about these things. When he took off, he headed for your grandfather’s house, which was about five miles away. Charlie was waiting for him on the front porch steps when he and his parents arrived home from the train station.

“That’s right. I remember that part. I just love that your love story is the foundation of our family business.”

“The holidays were so special to us that we wanted to make our living doing something that would let us experience the magic of Christmas the entire year.”

Amanda sighed. “I hope my love story someday is as sweet as yours.” She gathered the dirty mixing bowls and brought them over to the sink.

“What do you mean? Aren’t you in love now with that handsome man you brought home?”

“Yes. I . . . um . . . I guess I am,” she stammered. “Tate’s great. We’re great. I just mean . . . Let’s just say I don’t think Christmas dinner this year is going to have the same storybook ending for us that it did for Grandpa and you.” She placed the two cookie sheets in the oven and set the timer. “We’re way too practical, and Tate’s not much of a romantic.”

“Nonsense, dear. You just need to open your beautiful, green eyes and have a little faith in the one you chose for you.”

CHAPTER TEN

Tate left the two-story red brick nursing home and headed for Jack’s truck. They had just delivered a tree for the facility’s annual Christmas Eve party. Tate chuckled. He had personal invitations to attend from at least ten silver-haired women who had watched him bring in the tree.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the frigid air. Being in Upstate New York brought back so many memories of his father before he died. Then three years later, his mother passed away. He instinctively reached into his coat pocket, feeling around for his lucky charm. He’d need it today.

“Oh, that’s right. I gave it to Amanda,” he said out loud. He wondered how her morning was going. It had only been two hours, but he already missed her. He wanted to tell her everything. He’d start with his past and end with how much he cared for her.

He glanced up at the rolling, snow-covered hills. It felt like another lifetime since he had been here last. He hadn’t had the courage to return and face those painful memories. Until now.

His thoughts drifted to Kristen Bailey and her daughters. Chloe was so full of hope for tonight. If Santa didn’t come, she may feel the same sadness that he felt so many years ago on this very day.

“She won’t be disappointed. Not if I can help it.” He had an idea.

“Who won’t be disappointed?” Melanie pushed a stroller up to Tate.

“Melanie! Hey.” He looked down at the sleeping baby in the stroller and cocked an eyebrow. “Weren’t you just . . .” He pointed to her stomach.

Melanie rubbed her belly and laughed. “Still pregnant. This is my son, Max. He’s tuckered out. We’ve been visiting with my mother.” She pointed to the nursing home.

“We just delivered a tree there.” He mentally did the math. If Brad was little Max’s daddy, well that could make things even more awkward between Amanda and her ex-boyfriend.

“So, Tate, it’s been driving me absolutely crazy, but I think I know why you look so familiar. We went to the same summer camp on Keuka Lake.” She grinned. “You’re the Tate Ryan who taught me how to kiss.”

Tate scuffed his boot on the snow. “The one and the same.”

She laughed. “Wow! What a small world, huh?”

“Indeed.”

“I remember you had moved away that winter but came back for summer camp, right?”

“You have a good memory. We moved to South Carolina on Christmas Eve. My mom sent me back up here that summer while she was going through chemo.”

“I remember your mom was very sick. Did she pass?”

“When I was sixteen.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks. I have some great memories of both parents here. It’s nice to be back. We didn’t even live here a year, but it really felt like home.” Probably because it was the last place they were together as a family.

He glanced at his watch. If he was going to go through with his Operation Santa plan for Chloe and Danielle, he’d need some help. “Hey, what are you and Brad doing this afternoon?”

A few minutes later, Tate wrapped up his conversation with Melanie and entered his number into her phone. He didn’t notice that Alex had approached them until he heard him speak.

“Hi, Melanie.” Alex ignored Tate. “Where’s Brad?”

“Hey, Alex. He’s helping my mother put up lights in her room. She loves how they twinkle.”

Tate handed Melanie back her phone. “Thanks for your help tonight.”

She smiled and turned the stroller toward the nursing home. Max was still asleep.

“Anything for the guy who taught me how to kiss.” She giggled. “Brad thanks you, too.”

Alex raised an eyebrow.

“Tate and I go way back.”

“I don’t want to know.” Alex jumped into the back of his truck and manuvered the remaining trees.

“Bye, guys.” Melanie pushed the stroller. “Tate, I’ll check in with you later tonight.”

“Thanks, Mel.” He could feel Alex’s disapproving stare cut through his back.

“What’s going on tonight?” Alex jumped off his truck and landed in front of Tate.

“Nothing, just something I asked for Melanie’s help with . . . and Brad’s help, too.”

Jack joined them. “We’re making good time today, boys. Alex, thanks for helping us here. It was definitely a three person job.”

“No problem, Dad. I’m off to the Martins’.”

“Terrific. You’ll need help getting their tree up to the front door. Why don’t you take Tate with you?”

“Nah, I’ll be okay. I don’t need his help.”

“Nonsense. Tate will enjoy meeting the Martins.” He turned to Tate. “Is that okay with you?”

“Sure,” Tate replied, masking his reluctantcy. The last thing he wanted was to spend the next few hours alone with Alex. He’d rather shovel reindeer poop.

“Good. I’ll meet you boys back at the house.”

“Jack, thank you for today. I’m really enjoying it. What your do for these families is something special.”

“You’re welcome, Tate. We’re glad you’re here.” Jack got into his truck, parked next to Alex’s, and rolled down his window. “You boys have fun. I’ll see you later.”

“See ya,” Alex said. “You ready, Romeo?”

Tate turned and headed around to the passenger side. That reference was surely about his kissing Melanie. The next few hours were not going to be pleasant. He was sure of it. He reached for the passenger handle and opened the door. Sliding in, he made one more attempt to make things right with Alex.

“We were thirteen.”

Alex shook his head and shoved his key into the ignition, shifting into reverse. The back wheel hit an icy patch, causing the truck to slide into a nearby snow bank. Alex put his foot on the accelerator, but the back tire continued to spin.

“Seriously?” Alex looked up at the sky. “Not what I need right now, Lord. Not what I need.”

“I’ll clear the wheel,” Tate offered and hopped out of the truck. He jumped over the snow drift, bent over, and pushed the snow away with his hands. “Okay, hit it,” he called out and stood up. His foot caught a patch of ice, causing him to lose his balance. Before he knew it, he was flat on the ground.

“Look out!” he heard someone scream.

* * *

“So, Amanda, let me get this straight. You’ve been dating your co-anchor since June, and we’re only hearing about him now?” Quinn Sullivan wiggled her upper body underneath the covers and sat up in her hospital bed. “Am I the last to know?” She looked from Amanda to their grandmother. “I am, aren’t I?”

Amanda held her niece with one arm, rubbing the sleeping baby’s back with her free hand. “I didn’t mean for it to be this huge secret. Honest, I didn’t. We were just taking things slow. And then before I knew it, you were having a baby three weeks early . . . on Christmas Eve, no less.” Amanda tried to appear nonchalant, hoping it would satisfy her sister. “So I invited Tate to come home with me. I don’t see what the big deal is really. I would have told you all, eventually.”

“But, dear sister, you brought him home—it is a big deal. Are you in love with him?” Quinn raised her eyebrow.

“He’s quite a fox,” Grandma Turner interjected.

“Grandma!” Amanda feigned surprise. She was never really shocked by their grandmother’s candid remarks.

“Well, he is,” Grandma Turner said defensively.

Quinn laughed, egging her on. “Tell me more, Grandma. What does he look like? Does he have a cute butt?”

“Maybe ‘fox’ isn’t how you kids describe handsome men these days. Well, it was when you were teenagers. He’s tall, dark, and handsome.” She looked at Amanda for approval. “Is that better?”

“Yes, he’s handsome,” Amanda acquiesced. “In a broadcast-anchor kind of way.”

She turned and faced her grandmother. “And fine, he has a cute butt. There—are you happy?”

Quinn smoothed her short blonde hair around her face. “Really? Then maybe you should bring him by later . . . to meet the baby, of course.” She winked.

“Okay. Enough, you two.” The less she talked about Tate being her boyfriend, the better. She hated all the lies. Although his having a cute butt was certainly not one of them.

“So what are you and Mark going to call this little angel?” Amanda gently handed the sleeping baby back to Quinn.

“We’ve actually given that a lot of thought. We have a couple of names we’re considering, but we’d like to call her Noel if that is okay with you?”

Amanda’s eyes welled up. “You want to give her my middle name?” She smiled down at the baby now nestled in Quinn’s arms. “I don’t know what to say.”

“We just thought it was the perfect name since she was born on Christmas Eve. If you would like us to consider another name, we can,” Quinn said.

Her sister’s expression told Amanda that she hoped otherwise. “No, I think it’s a beautiful first name. I would be honored.”

“Thank you, sis.” Quinn reached out and squeezed her hand.

“However . . .” Amanda paused. “This means I forever have a say in everything from prom dresses to college choices.”

“Deal,” Quinn agreed.

Amanda glanced down at her watch. “Grandma, we should probably get going. I need to purchase a gift for Tate and then check in with Dad. Is there a gift shop in this place?” she asked, anxiously reaching for her coat and purse.

“You want to buy a present for your boyfriend from the hospital gift shop?” Quinn asked. “Geez, I thought Mark was bad at picking out Christmas gifts for me. Why didn’t you buy him something in Wilmington?”

Amanda tried to think of a plausible excuse for not having brought Tate’s gifts with her. “Well, we were in such a rush yesterday morning coming to see you that we accidentally left all of our Christmas presents under my tree.” She crossed her fingers behind her back. “So it’s kinda your fault for going into labor,” she teased.

“Sorry, couldn’t help that one.” Quinn laughed.

“I just want to pick him up something small to open up tomorrow before dinner. You know how Mom is about opening presents and all. She’s stopping by the mall to pick him up something, too.”

She sighed, looking out the window. “The problem is I’m running out of time. I’m supposed to take over for Dad this afternoon.”

Quinn must have detected the anxiety in her voice. “Grandma, why don’t you stay here with Noel and me?” She smiled down at her baby. “We can have Mark bring us something yummy for lunch, and then he can take you home this afternoon. I’m tired of hospital food.”

“That’s fine with me.” Grandma Turner settled further into her chair.

“Terrific. And Amanda, you’re going to need a sweater if you are doing deliveries. Didn’t Mom give you one?”

“Yes, but I left it back at the house.”

“Well, take mine then. I won’t be wearing it. That way you can save time.” Quinn pointed to a large green bag lying on a table next to the window. “It will be a little big on you. Mom thought I’d still be pregnant when she made it.” She chuckled. “I guess we all did.”

Amanda rummaged through the bag and pulled out the red sweater. “Fabulous,” she said. She lifted her sweater over her head and replaced it with the regulation Christmas garment, tugging it over her waist and readjusting her ponytail. “Now I feel . . .”

“Complete?” Quinn asked.

“More like ridiculous.” She checked out her reflection in the window.

“Is Tate wearing one, too? You’ll look so cute together. I know what you should do!” Quinn shrieked with excitement.

“What?” Amanda asked.

“Go snap a picture with him. Then tonight you can make an ‘our first Turner Family Christmas’ ornament.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Leave it to her sentimental sister to suggest something so corny. Making a keepsake ornament for Tate was not going to happen.

“I’m sure Mom has extra ornament balls, and Brenda can help you. She’s good at arts and crafts. Now that would be a sentimental gift.”

Amanda laughed. “I think I’ll stick with a nice bottle of Dr. Frank wine or perhaps a book on Upstate New York history. He lived here when he was a kid. He seems to love this area.”

“Honestly, Amanda. A bottle of wine? You know romance is key to any new relationship.” Quinn eyed her suspiciously. “Oh, wait. This relationship isn’t new to you. It’s only new to us. Right, Grandma?”

Their grandmother nodded in agreement.

“Funny, funny. All right, you two. I’m off.” She bent down to kiss Quinn and then turned and gave her grandmother a quick peck on the cheek. “Ho, ho, ho.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Amanda walked aimlessly through the hospital’s gift shop, having no clue what she should get Tate for Christmas. The shop’s holiday music filled her head.

How hard is this really? It’s just one silly little gift. Just pick something out, for crying out loud. Maybe she should call Tate and ask him if there was anything he needed. She had to agree with her sister—it was pretty lame that she was purchasing his gift here.

“Can I help you?” a frail old woman with curly grey hair behind the counter asked. She was wearing a festive green sweater with a giant snowman on the front. Her name badge read, Mary.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m looking for a gift for my pretend boyfriend that I nearly had sex with last night and now think I might be developing feelings for—although we hate each other. Can you help?” she asked, sarcasm overtaking her tone.

“How about a tie?” Mary pointed to a table filled with ties and scarves. “We have some nice ones over there.”

“Maybe. Thanks.” Amanda turned to look at some Christmas globes nearby. It was funny how being miles away from the news studio made her life back in North Carolina seem a little insignificant. It’s not like anyone here would care about Wilmington’s mayor or that she had embarrassed herself two days ago on live TV.

“Oh, this is just hopeless.” She picked up a snow globe and shook it. She watched the tiny snowflakes gently fall, blanketing the little ice rink inside. Cute. How nice would it be to live inside the tiny glass ball without a care in the world . . .

She laughed. “Until some idiot comes around and shakes your universe upside down.”

Her phone rang inside her purse. She recognized the assigned ringtone immediately.

“Hey, Lacy. What’s up? Is something wrong?”

“Hi, Amanda!” Lacy’s voice boomed through the phone. “How is your visit going? Did your sister have her baby yet?”

Amanda pulled her phone away from her ear. “It’s great. Yes, she had a girl last night. She and the baby are doing just fine. I’m at the hospital now.” She returned the snow globe to its spot on the shelf.

“Awesome! I won’t keep you, but I wanted to let you know that the producers would like tonight’s anchors to do a short segment on this year’s toy drive. They just wanted to run it by Tate and you since you both were so involved with promoting the event on air this month.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” She grabbed a tie. Wrapping it around her wrist, she couldn’t help but think back to two nights ago when she’d had Tate’s tie coiled around her wrist. He’d never explained that.

“Amanda, you still there?”

“Yep.” She pulled the tie off. “I’m sure Tate will be fine with it. I can ask him later.”

“So Tate’s with you?”

Dammit. Why did she just say that? “Um . . . He is. He’s helping me out this weekend. Long story.” Amanda thought back to yesterday when she caught her assistant and Tate deep in conversation on the front steps of Lacy’s apartment building. She had a sinking suspicion that it didn’t matter that she’d admitted it and Lacy had already known he was in New York with her. She still wondered why Lacy had told her this was going to be the best Christmas yet. Having your ex and his fiancée under the same roof with their kid and one on the way was far from it.

“I’m sure you and Tate are having a great time.”

“We are. Hey, Lacy. Let’s keep it between us that Tate’s with me.”

“Of course. Mum is the word.”

“Thanks.”

“Well, if you are home tonight, check us out online. We’re live streaming the show and tracking Santa. Jeff is planning to have the entire crew on camera for the close saying ‘Merry Christmas.’”

“Fun! We definitely will. Thanks for calling, Lacy.”

“Thanks, Boss. Merry Christmas.”

“You, too. See you on the news tonight. Wear something pretty.”

“Oh, I have the perfect dress. Anyways, talk to you later.”

“Talk to you later,” Amanda repeated and clicked off her phone. Maybe if she left now she could swing by the mall for Tate’s present.

She left the gift shop and headed toward the entrance. Her mouth dropped. Tate and Alex were headed into the hospital. Tate appeared to be in pain and was holding onto her brother for support.

She raced over. “Oh my God, what happened?”

“Hi, love.” Tate smiled and then grimaced.

Alex continued to hold Tate up. “Mandy, before you overreact—”

“Alex, what did you do?” She grabbed Tate’s other arm. “Here, lean on me.”

Tate whispered to her. “I think your brother is trying to kill me.” His breath tickled her ear.

“I heard that,” Alex retorted. “Let’s get you to the ER.”

They checked Tate in and a nurse whisked him away.

Amanda paced in the waiting room. She stopped and pushed her brother with both hands. “You know you’re a jerk.”

“Mandy, it was an accident,” Alex said in defense.

“Was it?” She crossed her arms.

“Of course it was. He was clearing my tire and the truck slid. I barely hit him. I’m sure nothing’s broken.”

Amanda shook her head. “Why are you being so mean to him?”

“I’m not being mean.”

“Yes, you are. Even if this was an accident that stunt earlier making him rope trees without gloves was just cruel.”

Alex shrugged. “How well do you know Tate?”

She threw her hands up in the air. “Not this again. I know everything there is to know about him.”

“And you know about the kiss?”

“Oh for crying out loud.” This was about Melanie? “They were just kids, and it was once at summer camp. It’s not a big deal, and certainly not a reason for you to run him over.”

“A. I didn’t do it on purpose, and B. I’m just looking out for you. You’re the one who couldn’t stand him for most of the year, and now you’re suddenly in love.” Alex’s phone rang. “Hey, Dad. I’m at the hospital with Amanda. Yeah, yeah. Everything’s okay. Tate had a little accident.”

“That you caused,” Amanda muttered and rolled her eyes. A pretty young nurse came over with an update.

“Tate’s going to be fine. It’s just a sprain. We’re filling a prescription of painkillers and getting him some crutches to use if he needs them. He’ll be out soon.”

“Thanks,” Amanda said and swatted Alex. “You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

“For the umpteenth time, I’m sorry. Look, I’ve got to go help Dad. Can you take Tate home?”

“Yep. I have his Jeep.” She pulled out his keys from her purse and jingled them in the air.

“Great, I’ll see you back home.” He tugged Amanda’s ponytail. “I really am sorry.” He rushed away.

“You’re not off the hook,” she called out.

She needed to figure out how to get her brother to warm up to Tate. Otherwise Christmas dinner was going to be a disaster if Tate did do something over-the-top romantic, like he said he was. At that point, his brother might pull out a shotgun and chase him back to Wilmington.

“I really need a Christmas miracle to get through this weekend,” she mumbled and sat down on an empty bench. She buried her head in her hands.

“Are you all right?” An elderly grey-haired man with a matching beard stood in front of her. He peered down at her through thick brown glasses.

She shuffled on the bench, sitting up straight. “I’m fine. Just waiting for a friend.” There was no sense in lying about her relationship status to a complete stranger.

“Mind if I sit down?”

“No, not at all.” She smiled at the man. With his grey beard, she wondered if he was here for a Santa gig. He certainly looked the part.

“Is it good news or bad news?”

“Not sure. My co-worker was injured, but it’s not too serious.” She pointed to the ER. “He’s going to be okay so I guess it’s good news.”

“Forgive me for being nosy, but by the look on your face, I’m guessing he’s more than your co-worker.”

She smirked. “No, no. Just a colleague.” She began to fiddle with her hands.

“Okay. Well, I’m here for my weekly blood test.”

“I’m sorry.” She glanced over at the old man. He was wearing a long red flannel that covered a round belly. Apparently he wasn’t here to play Santa. He certainly could if the hospital wanted him to.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he said. “Just a necessary part of getting older.” He tugged on his shirt. “Next month, I’ll be twenty-nine.”

She laughed and nodded in agreement. “Me too. Hi, I’m Amanda.”

“Nice to meet you, Amanda. I’m George. That’s a festive sweater you’re wearing.”

She looked down at the tree, dead center on her chest. “Courtesy of my mother’s hands.”

“She has good taste.” George winked. He began to fiddle with a red shopping bag next to him, pulling out a small robin egg blue box and placing it on his lap.

“That’s a pretty box,” she said.

“Thank you. My wife, Mary, gave it to me years ago. Not sure where she got it. I usually keep my pills in it, but guess what?” He opened the lid. “I forgot them today. Promise you won’t tell her. She’s right in there.” He pointed to the woman behind the counter in the gift shop.

Amanda laughed. “Your secret is safe with me, George.”

“I met her fifty years ago in that very spot.”

“Really?” She pointed at the gift shop. “Is that Mary over there?”

He nodded.

“Wow.” Amanda wasn’t sure which she was more impressed with, the fact they’d been together for fifty years or that his wife had worked at the same place all that time.

“Still as pretty as the first day I met her. I had broken my leg, but that didn’t stop me from hobbling down to the gift shop every day so I could see her. I knew she was the one.”

“One hundred percent sure?”

“One hundred percent. Now, it took some time for Mary to reciprocate my feelings. She didn’t care for me at first . . . thought I was too jolly.”

She laughed. Talking to George was a welcome distraction. He reminded her of her grandfather. “I don’t think jolly is a bad thing. Are you both from Bath?”

He shook his head. “Hammondsport. About five miles away. We have a cottage on Keuka Lake.”

“That’s a lovely town. Maybe you knew my grandparents. Bruce and Betty T—” Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Tate hobbling over on crutches. He was talking to the nurse who checked him in.

“Excuse me, George.” She walked over to Tate, glancing down at his ankle. “You okay?”

“Hey, Ace. Never better.” He continued talking to the nurse. “Thanks for the pain killers, Erin.” He reached for Amanda’s arm. “And thanks for the other thing.”

Amanda narrowed her eyes. He was on a first name basis with the nurse? What other thing was he talking about? The nurse seemed to be blushing. “Okay, I’ll take it from here, Nurse Erin,” Amanda said firmly. She impulsively kissed Tate on the lips, and the nurse disappeared.

“Hmmm.” He smiled. “Maybe I should ask Alex to run over my other leg.”

“Let’s go.” She glanced back at the bench. It was empty. George was walking slowly to the gift shop. She noticed he had left his box.

“I’ll be right back,” she said to Tate and went over and fetched the box. “George, you left this,” she called out.

The old man turned around and grinned. “You keep it. When the time is right, you’ll know what to put into it.”

“What to put into it?” Amanda stared down at the box.

“Open your eyes. When the time comes, you’ll know exactly what needs to go in it.” He turned to enter the gift shop but hesitated. “Oh, please tell Bruce and Betty, Mary and I say hello.”

Amanda watched George greet his wife who beamed at the sight of her husband. Well, that was strange. If he knew her grandparents, he must know they were . . .

“Everything okay, Ace?” Tate had come up behind her.

“Open your eyes,” she repeated. What a strange coincidence—her grandmother had given her the same advice earlier. Come to think about it, so did Lacy yesterday. How odd.

“Friends of yours?”

“Yes.” Amanda turned and faced Tate. “I mean no, not really. I just met them today. You ready?”

They drove the short ride home in silence. The painkillers appeared to be working, making Tate groggy. Amanda pulled into her parents’ driveway and shut off the engine.

Tate stirred in his seat. “Sorry, I fell asleep.”

“Don’t be sorry. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. The doctor said it’s just a bad sprain but gave me the crutches if I thought I needed them to get around.” He pulled his painkillers out of his coat pocket. “He also gave me these, so believe me, I’m in no pain.” He reached over and touched Amanda’s sweater. “See you got the family uniform.”

“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 in 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?”

Chloe let go of her mother and ran into the living room. Amanda followed the little girl and knelt down next to the tree. She watched as Chloe reached out and touched a snowflake hanging at the very bottom. “He made this one for me. I wish he was here,” she said sadly, looking down at the carpet.

Amanda’s heart melted. She was certain that Tate had promised this little girl he’d have dinner with her. She reached over and touched the glittering piece of white construction paper. “What a beautiful snowflake. Tate made this?”

Chloe nodded. He said he’d bring me and my sister extra cookies for Santa Claus. Santa might stop by tonight and bring us gifts if he doesn’t run out of time like he always does.”

Amanda looked up at Kristen. She understood what Chloe meant.

“Chloe, go get your sister. Dinner is almost ready.” Kristen motioned her daughter to the front room. “Things were especially rough last year,” she explained.

Amanda nodded and returned to the kitchen. “May I join you in Tate’s place?” She pointed to the table.

Kristen nodded with excitement. “Absolutely! We’d love for you to stay for dinner. Do you like spaghetti?”

“I love it! Plus, a night where I don’t have to watch my carbs will do me some good.” She took off her coat, placed it behind her chair, and sat down. Chloe and Danielle dashed into the kitchen, taking their seats across from her.

“Miss Amanda, is joining us.” Kristen set a plate full of garlic bread on the table.

“Girls, I know I’m not Tate, but he sent me here to have dinner with you both and your mother. Would that be okay?”

Chloe stared at Amanda with big eyes. “Do you wanna say grace?”

“I would love to.” She turned to Kristen. “Are you sure this is okay?”

“Of course.” She set a huge plate of spaghetti in front of Amanda. “It’s not every day that we dine with a celebrity.”

Amanda laughed. “I’m hardly famous. Oh, you know what I forgot? Dad—I mean Tate, asked me to bring some extra cookies for Santa. I’ll just go get them out of the car so they don’t get hard in the cold. I’ll be right back.”

“Yay!” Chloe screamed out loud from her chair. “I told you he would bring more cookies for Santa, Mommy.”

Amanda headed out the door with her jacket. She wrapped her arms around her body to shield her from the cold.

Well, this was an unexpected turn of events. Why didn’t Tate tell her this was where he was going tonight? He certainly had made an impression on those little girls inside, especially Chloe. Something must have happened this morning that touched his heart.

She had an idea. Pulling out her phone from her pocket, she dialed her parents’ number.

“Brenda, hi! Is Tate still asleep?”

“I think so. He hasn’t been down.”

“Good. Just let him sleep. Listen, I know the message I’d like inscribed on the rock. ‘Christmas dinner.’”

“Christmas dinner?”

“Correct.”

“Can I spell it with an ‘X’?”

“That’s fine.”

“No problem then. I’ll start working on it right now.”

“Thanks, Brenda! I’ll be home soon.”

She clicked her phone off and walked back to the trailer. She thought about calling her father, but hesitated. She suspected he’d known what he was doing by sending her here, and she was exactly where she was supposed to be this evening.

* * *

Tate stared out the guest room window at the lights on the lawn and bit into a cookie. He was a little groggy from his nap, and his ankle still hurt. He watched the strangers below who had gathered to see the Turners’ holiday display.

Where was Amanda? He moved from the window and lay back down on the bed. She’d asked him if she was a better kisser than Melanie. He thought back to that freezing night twenty years ago and his first kiss . . .

* * *

Tate brushed his cold hand over his face. It was instantly wet, as a fresh coating of tears stained his cheeks. He didn’t understand why his mother was making him leave town in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t stop crying.

He jammed his hands into his coat pocket and leaned up against the old station wagon, watching his mother pump gas into it from the other side. Where were they going? His mother was in a conversation with a man behind her who was also pumping gas for his truck. He locked eyes with a young girl who was sitting inside. She was staring at him.

He looked away. The last three months had been one long nightmare. However, it didn’t start out that way. Last spring had been one of the best of his young life—making the junior varsity baseball team at his new school and getting straight B’s, an academic first, making his parents proud. Then he’d spent last summer at camp where he learned to water ski and fish on the Finger Lakes. His mom promised she’d send him to camp again next year. He was going to hold her to that promise.

Fall had not been kind to his family. In late September, his dad suddenly dropped to the ground at work and was rushed to the emergency room where he passed away of a heart attack shortly after being admitted. He was only thirty-nine. Now Tate and his mom were all alone, still new in the area, and without family for support.

“Tate. Tate, dear . . .” his mom called out, snapping him out of his trance. “Here.” She walked over and handed him a ten-dollar bill. “Why don’t you go get us a couple of sodas and some snacks for the trip?”

He took the money. “Whatever.” He was angry with his mother for making him leave the only place he’d ever considered home. She never let him drink soda. It was an attempt to make things right, but he wasn’t ready to call a truce. He’d liked living here. He’d made good grades and had friends. Didn’t that account for anything?

As he walked into the adjoining convenience store, he could hear the faint sound of Christmas music. He headed to the back refrigerator and selected two cans of Coke. From out of nowhere, the girl from the truck appeared. She had straight blond hair tied back in a ponytail and big green eyes.

“Hey, you dropped this outside.” The girl handed Tate the ten dollars his mother had given him.

“Thank you,” he said. He took the bill and shook a little snow off it.

“Are you excited about Santa?”

“Huh?”

“You know. Santa Claus. He’s coming tonight. It’s Christmas Eve.”

“I’m too old for Santa,” he said in disgust, looking the girl up and down. She was wearing acid washed jeans similar to his own and red and white striped legwarmers. She could be around his age. Maybe two or three years younger. “Aren’t you too old, too?”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still believe.”

“That’s for kids.” Tate reached out in front of the girl and grabbed a bag of potato chips. He headed toward the cash register, handed the money to the man behind the counter, and waited for his change.

“Why were you crying?” The girl had come up behind him.

“I wasn’t crying.” He was starting to get agitated. Why wouldn’t this girl go away? “Boys don’t cry.”

“You were.”

“Were not.”

“Was not,” she corrected.

He pushed his way out the door. The last thing he wanted was to get into an argument with this smart aleck girl.

“Tate, you about ready?” his mom called out and got into the driver’s side of their station wagon.

The girl followed him outside. “Wait. I have something for you. Let me just ask my dad if it’s okay.” She ran over to the truck.

“I don’t want it,” he yelled back. Geez, she really was annoying. He hadn’t realized girls could be so irritating. She bounced back over to him.

“Here.”

“I said I didn’t want it.”

“Just take it. They’re cookies. Christmas cookies to leave for Santa. You’re never too old to believe.”

Tate frowned. “Thanks,” he muttered and got into the car.

The girl skipped back to the truck.

His mom grabbed the box from him. “Well that was awfully nice. Do you know that girl?” She opened it, showing him a dozen sugar cookies in different Christmas shapes inside.

“No.”

His mom picked up a tree shaped cookie and took a bite. “Yum. Want one?”

“No.” He stared straight ahead. “Can we go now?”

There was a knock on the passenger window. Tate looked over to see the girl peering in the window. He ignored her.

“Tate, where are your manners? Honestly. Roll down your window,” his mother ordered.

He reluctantly grabbed the car’s handle and began to turn it. “What?” he asked.

“My dad asked me to see if you’re allergic to milk because there is eggnog in these cookies. It’s my mom’s secret ingredient. Merry Christmas!” With that, the girl planted a soft kiss on his lips and quickly ran away. His first kiss.

Tate leaned his head out the window. “Hey, what’s your name?”

The girl turned around and flashed him a smile. “Amanda.”

* * *

“Tate, are you awake?”

“Mom?” He sat up and called out into the dark room. Without his glasses, he could barely make out the figure standing in the doorway.

“I sound like your mother? Seriously, dude? My truck didn’t hit you that hard.” Alex walked over to the nightstand and switched on the lamp.

Tate rubbed his eyes. “Alex. Let me guess. You’ve come back to take care of my other ankle?” It wouldn’t really suprise him if he had.

“Nah, you’re safe. Brenda sent me up here to wake you up.”

“Thanks, man, what time is it?”

“Seven o’clock on the nose.”

“Shoot. That late?” Tate swung his legs over the bed and picked up his phone from the nightstand. No calls from Melanie. “Damn, I’m late.”

“What? Do you have somewhere to go? Or should I ask . . . someone to meet?”

“No,” Tate shot back. He really didn’t need Alex’s insinuating attitude right now. There was still so much he needed to do tonight. “Hey, can you hand me those?” He pointed to the other side of the room.

Alex bent down and handed Tate his boots. “You can’t seriously drive with that ankle?”

True. Where was Amanda, and why hadn’t she woken him an hour ago like he had asked her to?

His ankle was still throbbing. He’d need to take another pain reliever to get through the next couple of hours, which meant he’d need a co-pilot to drive him. Unfortunately, Alex fit the bill.

“Actually, yes, I do have someone to meet. She’s five and has a sister who’s four. And you’re coming with me.” He stood. “Do you have an elf costume?”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Amanda walked over to the sink with a handful of dirty dishes. Kristen intercepted her, grabbing the plates from her hands.

“Oh, no you don’t. You’re our guest,” she insisted. “Thanks for having dinner with us. The girls love you.”

Amanda glanced at Chloe and Danielle. Both girls had moved from the dining table to the living room and now sat mesmerized in front of the television watching Frosty the Snowman. A torn VHS tape cover laid on the carpet next to them.

Kristen followed Amanda’s gaze. “Those girls are going to wear out that tape!” She winked. “With any luck.”

Amanda laughed and continued to help clear the table. “They’re just excited for Christmas. Your girls are really sweet.”

“Sweet,” Kristen repeated. “Spoken by someone who doesn’t have young ones yet. They are on extra good behavior tonight because of S-A-N-T-A.” She lowered her voice and whispered, “I have a few small presents in my room that I’m gonna bring out when they’re in bed. A couple of Barbie dolls and some puzzles. The church we go to had an adopt-a-family program this year. The girls wrote down what they wanted for Christmas on a paper tree.”

Amanda pressed a lid down on the butter container and opened the refrigerator. “It’s been a tough year, huh?” The sparse shelves gave her the answer.

“Yeah, their dad skipped out before Christmas last year. No good bum. I didn’t have any money to buy the girls gifts and was too embarrassed to ask for help.” She shook her. “Not this year. I saw your dad’s advertisement in the Pennysaver, and knew I was gonna get me and the girls at least a tree this year.”

“Well, it’s gorgeous. My dad saves the best trees for this day.” Her eyes rested on Tate’s white snowflake still hanging from its branch on the very bottom. “I’m just sorry that Tate couldn’t be here. He had an accident earlier.”

“Accident? Oh, no. Is he okay?”

“Oh, he’ll be fine. It’s just a bad ankle sprain. He’s at my parents’ house resting it. The doctor gave him some pretty powerful painkillers that knocked him out.” She reached over and picked up a dish towel. “Here, let me help you dry those. Four hands are always quicker than two.”

In no time, all the dishes were clean and put away. Kristen moved to the living room, picking up around Chloe and Danielle who were still planted on the floor watching TV.

Amanda wrung out the sponge she’d used to wipe the counter and washed her hands. It was really nice to spend time with Kristen and the girls. She’d forgotten just how special the residents in this town were. Checking her watch, she saw that it was almost seven thirty. A wave of guilt ran through her. She wished she hadn’t deliberately told Brenda to not wake Tate up until seven. She hoped he wouldn’t be too mad at her.

Bright headlights flashed through the kitchen window, ricocheting off her sweater. “Hey, Kristen,” she called out. “Looks like you may have some more company.”

“Good heavens, we’re quite popular today. I wonder who it is.” Kristen walked to the door and she stepped onto the porch. “Watch your step, you two. I’ve got furniture pieces strewn everywhere. My New Year’s resolution is to get rid of everything out there.”

Amanda heard a familiar male voice exchanging Christmas greetings.

“Brad, Melanie.” Amanda came up behind Kristen. “What are you two doing here?”

Melanie waddled in behind him. “We’re sorry we’re late. Where’s Tate?”

“He’s home.” Amanda was thoroughly confused. “Wait, you knew he was planning on having dinner here?” Of course she did. Apparently being Tate Ryan’s first kiss gave you all kinds of special privileged information.

Kristen shut the door and put her hands on her hips. “Okay, can someone tell me what’s going on?”

Melanie lowered her voice. “Your girls have a very special surprise coming. We thought he’d be here by now. We ran into some traffic in the center of town.”

“What are you up to?” Kristen grabbed a cigarette from the counter. She reached for her lighter but then appeared to change her mind. She studied Brad. “Well, at least if the town cop is involved, I know it’s nothing illegal.” She cocked an eyebrow. “It’s nothing illegal, is it?”

“No. It’s not.” Brad chuckled.

“Then what is it?” Kristen asked.

“You don’t know?” Melanie looked at Kristen and then Amanda. “Either of you?”

“No—why don’t you tell us?” Amanda scoffed. Why had Tate confided in Melanie and not her?

Melanie continued to speak in a low voice so Chloe and Danielle couldn’t hear her. “A mysterious Santa gave me some money earlier today and specific instructions to purchase toys for the girls. Brad’s squad car is filled with games, stuffed animals, and books. Santa asked us to meet him at seven, but he just texted me that he was running late.” She unzipped her jacket and laughed. “Sleigh problems.”

Amanda’s heart melted as she realized what Melanie was really telling them. This was exactly where Tate planned to be tonight. He was going to have dinner with the girls and then surprise them with new toys. “This Santa wouldn’t happen to be six feet tall with dark brown hair and blue eyes, would he?”

“Maybe,” Melanie said coyly.

“Who is it?” Kristen asked.

Amanda glanced over at the girls. It was all starting to make sense. “It’s Tate.”

“Really? He bought gifts for my girls? Well, why on earth would he do that? He just met us this morning.”

Amanda couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Tate mentioned that he had to be somewhere at six. I didn’t know he was talking about Kristen’s.” She looked away, completely embarrassed. Here she had spent the last twenty-four hours licking her old wounds and being irrationally jealous of a stupid teenage kiss, when Brad and Melanie were working with Tate to bring some Christmas magic to a family that really deserved it. She felt like a heel.

“Kristen, can you distract your girls for a couple of minutes while I help Brad bring in the toys?” Amanda asked. “We’ll leave them on the porch until Tate gets here.”

“You bet! I can’t believe this. What a sweet, sweet boyfriend you have there, Amanda. Where did you find a man like Tate?” Kristen walked into the living room and spun around. “And does he have a twin?”

Clapping her hands together twice, Kristen motioned for the girls to follow her. “Okay, you two, let’s go get into your pajamas and then you can pick out one bedtime story to read. Maybe Miss Melanie can help us select a book.”

Amanda grabbed her jacket and followed Brad out to his squad car. Sure enough, it was filled to the brim with holiday shopping bags. She could hardly see the back seat. “Wow. This is amazing. You and Melanie bought all these toys?”

Brad opened the trunk. “Along with these.” It was also filled with toys. “Tate paid for most of this. We chipped in what we could.”

Amanda peered in. The shopping bags were overflowing with beautifully wrapped presents and stuffed animals decorated in red bows. “You did all this shopping this afternoon?”

“Yep. Tate had the hospital call the toy store and asked them to put certain toys aside for when Mel and I got there to save us some time.”

Amanda could see a fluffy white beard and a red hat sticking out of one of the bags. “Oh, God. I’m so stupid. That’s why he was thanking Nurse Erin this afternoon.” It was all making sense.

“Yeah, Erin even let us borrow a Santa suit they use at the hospital for Tate to wear tonight.” He pointed to a shopping bag inside the back seat. “Mel and I picked it up on our way here. That’s why we were running late.”

“Wow, you’ve all been busy.” She kicked the snow around with her boot. “I wish I could have helped.”

Brad shut the trunk. “Mandy, can we talk for a minute?”

She jammed her hands in her jacket pockets. “Sure.”

“I’m really sorry. I was such a jerk to you two years ago. You didn’t deserve what I did to you. You and your family have shown me nothing but kindness.”

Amanda could tell his words were as uncomfortable for him to say as they were for her to hear. “It was a long time ago.” She reached for his hand. “You’re family now.”

“I don’t blame you if you hate me.”

She took a deep breath. The cold air filled her lungs. “I don’t hate you. Yeah, you broke my heart, but I could never hate you.” She reached for his hand. “You were my first real relationship.”

They stared at each other in silence. She had thought about this moment for quite some time and the exact words she would use. She would tell him how much he’d hurt her and how she was better off without him. But somehow that rehearsed speech didn’t really matter anymore.

Instead, she tried the truth. “I was really hurt, but I think deep down inside I always knew we weren’t quite right for each other.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.” Having this heart-to-heart with Brad felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders. “Melanie is great for you. I can see how much you love her.”

He agreed and then laughed. “Did you know she and Tate made out as youngsters?”

Of course he would bring the kiss up. He was a guy after all. “Yes. I think everyone in this town knows about their swapping spit at summer camp.”

Brad laughed. “I guess you never forget your first kiss.”

“Who was yours?” She decided to lighten the subject and leaned up against his squad car. “Because I know it wasn’t me.”

He smirked. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Cross my heart.” She drew a big X across her chest.

“Brenda. Seventh grade dance.”

“No way! How did I not know this?” Her eyes widened. “Does Alex know?”

“No, and let’s not tell him.”

“Deal.”

“Friends?” he asked, looking hopeful.

“Good friends.” She reached out and hugged him. It was nice to literally embrace her past. She could now move on.

But first.

“Brad, before we go inside . . .” She smiled mischievously. “I just have one important question.”

* * *

Amanda huffed. Of course Brad would give Melanie the edge as the better kisser—she was, after all, the mother of his children. At least he’d said it was very close. That was more than Tate had done.

She watched Brad take the last bag to the porch. It felt good to have her friend back. It also felt right to be just friends.

She reached inside her jacket pocket for her phone and called Tate. “Come on. Pick up, pick up.” It went straight to voicemail. Perhaps he was still sleeping. She tried her parents’ house next, but no one answered. For crying out loud. Where was everyone?

Her heart warmed as she peered inside the trailer’s living room window. Chloe and Danielle were in their pajamas dancing around the Christmas tree with Kristen and Melanie. The little girls were going to have the best Christmas of their young lives thanks to Tate’s incredible generosity. He really should be here to see this. She went back in to join in the merriment and wait for him.

“Amanda!” Chloe ran over and grabbed her hand. “Mommy says we have to go to bed soon. Will you read us a bedtime story?” she asked, leading her toward the couch.

“I think I can do that.” Amanda hesitated, looking at Kristen for approval. “If it’s okay with your mother?”

Kristen nodded. “One story. Then it’s off to bed, you two. Santa won’t come until you are fast asleep. His rule, not mine.”

“Well, then. We’ll need to hurry.” Amanda took a seat on the battered couch. The girls nestled up to her on both sides. Danielle handed her a small Christmas book while Melanie and Brad stretched out on the carpet next to the tree. Melanie was texting, her fingers flying fast.

“Thank you, Danielle.” Amanda opened the first page of the worn book and began. “’Twas the night before Christmas . . .” Both girls peered in to see the pictures on the page.

It only took a few minutes to reach the end. “Let’s say it together girls: ‘and to all a good night.’”

“And to all a good night,” Chloe and Danielle repeated in their small voices.

“Read it again!” Chloe ordered.

Amanda shut the book and set it on the coffee table. The doorbell buzzed. “Saved by the bell.” She chuckled.

“Who could that be?” Kristen feigned surprise and jumped out of her chair, pulling the living room curtain aside. She turned around with a big smile on her face. “Girls, I think you have a special visitor. Chloe, go open the door.”

Chloe jumped down from the couch and ran to the door. Danielle was right behind her. Swinging it open, she shrieked in delight, “Santa!”

“Ho, ho, ho . . . Merry Christmas!” A tall Santa Claus strolled through the door with a shorter elf on his heels. “Are you Chloe?” Santa asked.

“I am!” Chloe jumped up and down, unable to contain her excitement. “And this is my sister, Danielle! I’m five, and she’s four.” She held out the number five on one hand and four on the other.

Amanda grinned and leaned back, watching Santa talk with the girls. She noticed that this Santa had piercing blue eyes and walked with a bit of a limp.

“Hello, Chloe and Danielle. Merry Christmas! Normally, I like to show up while you’re sleeping to drop off your presents, but I wanted to personally thank you both for being good little girls this year.”

“Santa! Come see our tree.” Chloe grabbed Tate’s hand. “We decorated it just for you.”

“I would love to.” He grabbed Danielle’s tiny hand with his free one. “Well, look at those beautiful snowflakes. Did you have help making those?” He winked at Kristen.

As the girls gathered around Tate and the tree, Alex plopped down next to his sister on the couch. “Fancy meeting you here.”

She tugged on his elf’s hat. “Nice hat.”

“The chicks seem to like it.” He stretched his arm out and placed it around her shoulder. “At least those under six.”

“You know, Santa could probably hook you up with a new flannel shirt.” They laughed and watched as Chloe ran into the kitchen to fetch the plate of cookies Amanda had brought.

“Ooooh, cookies!” Alex chuckled and stood up halfway.

Amanda pulled him back. “Not so fast. They’re for Santa.” She couldn’t hear what Tate was saying to the girls, but he was showing one of the cookies to Melanie.

“He better not be telling her Mom’s secret ingredient,” Alex joked.

Amanda laughed. “I doubt it.” Just then, she locked eyes with Tate. He gave her a wink and continued talking to the girls. Embarrassed, she looked away.

Alex nudged her. “I saw that wink. Looks like someone’s hooking up with St. Nick tonight.”

“Shut up.” She swatted him playfully. “So, when did you two become best buddies, anyway?”

Alex placed his arm back around her. “Mandy, my dear sister, I think I was wrong about Tate. He’s a pretty decent guy.”

“And you’re just realizing this now?”

“We had a long talk on the way over. I understand his intentions perfectly.”

“His intentions?”

“Not important.” He tugged her ponytail. “Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about.”

She raised an eyebrow. Her overprotective brother was no longer questioning their relationship but was now fully supportive. What had Tate said to him? Did he fill him in on their charade? What if he told Alex there was nothing to worry about, that they were only pretending to be in a relationship? Would she be humiliated once again on Christmas Eve?

Her pretty little head was worried.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

It took Amanda a few extra minutes to drive to her parents’ house, humming along to Christmas music all the way. The roads were slick. The rest of the gang, including Tate, had left fifteen minutes earlier and were headed back to the house for another surprise that they were all tight lipped about.

She finally turned into her parents’ driveway. “Well, what do we have here?”

On the front lawn, a small crowd had gathered around the now lit Christmas tree in its center. She tapped the break and leaned on the steering wheel. In the crowd, she could just make out Tate and Alex. Were they giving out presents? Tate was still wearing his Santa suit and passing out stuffed animals. She smiled and hit the accelerator gently, driving past them and up the driveway. She wondered where all the extra toys had come from—they hadn’t been in Brad’s car. Did Tate have other secret helpers? She parked the Jeep in the front of the house and went inside.

“Amanda! You’re back.” Her mother bustled around the kitchen’s island, arranging a vegetable tray. “Want one?” She handed Amanda a carrot.

“Hi, Mom.” Amanda stripped off her jacket and sat down on a stool.

“How are the roads?”

“A little slick. I noticed some ice forming when I turned into the driveway. We may want to salt. What are Tate and Alex doing out there?”

“Those boys. They’ve been at it for the last half-hour. They’ve been giving out toys to our visitors.”

“Where did all the toys come from?” Amanda asked.

“I don’t know. I thought maybe you did. Brenda and Alex tore out of here over an hour ago as I was coming in. I believe Tate was in the truck with Alex,” she said. “Brenda came back alone with her SUV filled with toys.”

Amanda grabbed another carrot and swirled it around in the ranch dip. That explained why she hadn’t been able to get a hold of anyone earlier tonight. She felt a little left out. “How was your day, Mom?”

“It was nice. Lots of great families this year.” Her mom pulled out the cold sandwich tray that Brenda had bought earlier. “How was yours? Your dad tells me you had dinner at Kristen Bailey’s?”

“I did. It was really wonderful. Her daughters are precious, and they honestly deserve a nice Christmas.” Amanda watched her mom. She was suddenly feeling sorry for missing the last two years with her family. “Mom, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For lots of things. Letting the last two years go by. I don’t have any excuses. I’ve just been . . .” She sighed. “I was being stupid. This weekend has really reminded me how much I love this place and being part of this family.” She hung her head low.

Her mother came around the kitchen island and squeezed her shoulders. “Dear, we love you and only want what’s best for you. We just wanted to give you your space.”

“I should have talked to Brad way before this. I mean, he’s family. I let two years go by.”

“Well, maybe we weren’t with you the last two years, but you were with us.”

Amanda looked up. She could feel her tears starting to form. “What do you mean? In spirit?”

“Well, yes, and also in our living room. We watch your newscast on the Internet together. It’s become a tradition.”

“I’m a Turner tradition?” That was it. There was no stopping the flood of tears rushing down Amanda’s cheeks. She threw her arms around her mother. “I promise I won’t miss another Christmas ever again.”

Brenda bounced into the kitchen and set the pretty blue box on the kitchen island. “Your gift is ready. Here, take a look.”

Amanda opened the box and gently pushed aside the silver tissue paper. The tiny rock was in its center. It read, Xmas Dinner. “Oh, Brenda.” She put her hand over her heart.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s perfect,” she whispered.

“What’s this?” Her mother peered over her daughter’s shoulder.

Amanda flung her arms around her mother. “Thank you, Mom, for having the wonderful tradition of giving gifts before Christmas dinner. Tate is going to love this. I just know it!”

“That’s wonderful, dear. Can you help me take these sandwiches into the living room? I’m sure your grandmother is starving. She’s been watching A Christmas Carol all afternoon and mumbling about your grandpa paying a visit soon.” She laughed. “We may need to keep her away from the spiked eggnog.”

“Sure thing. Right behind you.” Amanda reached for the sandwich tray.

“Actually, let Brenda do that. You should go down and join the boys outside and surprise Tate with his gift.” Reaching over, she brushed a strand of hair out of Amanda’s eyes. “Why don’t you take Tate some cocoa? There are two thermoses next to the sink. You could go down to the sleigh.”

Amanda’s mouth opened as she watched her mother leave. “Well, that’s a first.” Presents were always opened before Christmas dinner and not a moment sooner. It was just as much a part of a Turner Family Christmas as the mandatory sweaters and the eggnog sugar cookies.

“What’s a first?” Brenda asked.

“She just broke a tradition.”

Amanda took a few minutes to make the cocoa and fill the thermoses. Once done, she grabbed a blanket from the living room. She also found a flashlight that she’d need to show Tate his present. The box with his rock was safely tucked inside the blanket. She headed outside and trudged down the snowy hill.

A small figure darted in front of her and jumped into the sleigh.

“Jingles! All right, little one. Move over.” She nudged the dog to the right side and got in. He crawled up into a little ball in her lap.

Tate and Alex were still giving out gifts about thirty feet away. She smiled. It had only been last night that Tate marveled at all the decorations on the lawn. Now, he was the main attraction.

Speaking of attraction . . . There was no denying that those little butterflies that didn’t appear when Brad was around her, were inside her stomach now and had multiplied over the last hour.

She put her hand on the blue box, thinking about the conversation she just had with her mother. She couldn’t believe her family had watched her newscast on Christmas Eve for the past two years. She’d become another Turner family tradition and hadn’t even known it.

It was chilly outside, but the cocoa warmed her up while she waited. How ironic. This was the very place that two years ago she planned to give her heart for all eternity to one man. Now she hoped to have a new beginning with a different one.

She watched as Tate and Alex continued to give out gifts. They were singing and laughing with the kids.

How could she have not realized this sooner? Maybe her grandmother and George from the hospital were right. Not to mention Lacy. If she just opened her eyes, maybe she would see what apparently everyone else who met Tate saw—a generous, kindhearted man.

She patted the dog on the head. “Jingles, I still don’t understand why he wanted to come home with me so badly. Do you think he’s had feelings for me all this time?” She slowly sipped her cocoa, looking in Tate’s direction.

* * *

Tate and Alex waved to the last car pulling away from the house. “That was fun,” Tate said. “Thanks, man, for all your help tonight.”

“No problem. It was cool. Dad loved it, too. He’ll probably make this an annual tradition now. As you saw today, we’re pretty big on traditions around here. You up to wearing that suit again next year?”

“I’d love it. But I guess it all depends on your sister.”

“Why’s that?”

Tate shrugged. The two men started to climb up the hill toward the house. His ankle still hurt, but it was tightly supported in his boot. A dog barked in the darkness.

“I think your sleigh awaits.” Alex pointed in the direction of the bark.

Tate’s heart beat fast through the red suit. Amanda waved to them. “How did you know she was in there?”

Alex shrugged. “She’s been hiding out in that sleigh as long as I can remember. “Nice of you to help us,” he called out.

“Nice of you to run over my boyfriend,” Amanda shouted back.

“Come on, Jingles. Here, boy!” He whistled. “Let’s leave these two love birds alone.”

Tate smiled and followed his heart straight to the sleigh. For a few more hours, she was still his girlfriend. He stepped aside as Jingles flew past him. “I thought that dog would never leave.”

“Hi, Santa,” she said.

“May I join you?”

“I think this might be your sleigh.” She scooted over. Once in, she draped the blanket around his legs so that they were both underneath.

“Here’s some hot chocolate.” Amanda handed him a thermos. “It should still be hot.”

He took a sip. “What a night, huh?”

“Indeed.” She shook her head. “How’s your ankle?”

“Much better. Almost as good as new.” He leaned back and padded the pillow under his stomach. “Hey, if you wanted to get an exclusive with Santa, I could make it happen,” he teased. “Could get you an Emmy.”

Amanda smirked and leaned back. “Nah, I’m really cozy right now. Maybe next year.”

“Why, Ace, is that an invitation to do this again next Christmas?” He noticed her look away. Was she nervous? She was reaching to her side and grabbing something. “Well, I’ll keep the beard on for a few more minutes in case you change your mind on that interview.”

“I have a little gift for you,” she blurted out and handed him a blue box with silver ribbons around it.

Tate set the thermos off to his side. “Amanda?” He took the box. “You got me a present? I don’t have anything for you.”

“It’s nothing really,” she said. “It was actually yours to begin with. I just thought you might—”

“Thank you,” he interrupted her. This was the second Christmas box this woman had given him in her lifetime, and she didn’t even realize it. He untied the silver ribbons and removed the lid. His shiny lucky charm poked out from silver tissue paper.

“Well, hello, old friend.” He picked up the familiar rock and squeezed it in his hand.

“I just thought that maybe given the day you had . . .” She paused. “Well, I thought you should have it back.”

Her thoughtfulness sent his heart racing again. He needed her to know everything, but he didn’t have a clue where he should start. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “You know, my mom gave this to me when I was thirteen. She picked it up in a gift shop on a road trip on this very night. My dad had just died. She told me our luck was going to change.”

He could feel her hand touch his shoulder. “I’m so sorry that you lost your parents at such a young age. That’s why you carry this rock, isn’t it?” she asked. “I know you put it in your pocket before we go on air. I’ve watched you do it. Why did you give away something that is so personal and sentimental to you?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I got carried away in the moment. I thought you could use it this weekend.” He pointed to his ankle. “I guess the joke’s on me.”

Amanda took the rock from his hand. “It’s a little different now. I hope that’s okay.” She switched on the flashlight. “See.”

He leaned in and peered down. “Is something inscribed on it? I can’t quite make it out.

Xmas something?”

“It says, ‘Xmas Dinner.’” She sighed. “For tonight. I mean, I know it’s Christmas Eve dinner, but that would have been too long for Brenda to etch. I thought this could remind you of the special surprise you orchestrated for Kristen and the girls tonight. I know that Chloe invited you to dinner. That must have touched you somehow to do what you did.” She tugged his beard playfully. “That and you did promise if I brought you home, you would make sure Christmas dinner would be memorable. This is just a little reminder that I’m holding you to it.”

“Xmas dinner.” Tate recited the words as he flipped the rock over and over in his hand. All of the feelings he had for Amanda were rushing to the surface. He wasn’t sure when it happened, or even how it happened for that matter, but he had finally gotten into Amanda’s heart the way she did his so long ago. Without another word, he reached over and cupped her face, pulling her chin up. He leaned forward until his lips met hers.

His mouth gently explored hers, thanking her for this gift and the one she’d given him when he was thirteen. It was that silly box of eggnog sugar cookies that gave him the distinct and familiar holiday scent that brought his parents back to him each year, at the time he needed to hold on to their memory the most.

Amanda broke away and giggled. She buried her face in his chest.

“Really, Ace.” He moved his hands up and down her back. “Not the reaction I was hoping for.”

She gently tugged on the white beard. “It’s just that . . . I can’t believe I’m kissing Santa.”

He yanked off the fake beard and pulled out the pillow, flinging both over the sleigh onto the snow. “Not if I can help it.” He pulled her into a long kiss.

* * *

Amanda threaded her fingers through Tate’s as they headed inside. Her lips were still tingling. “I bet someone is going to be insanely jealous of this public display of affection.”

“Who? Alex?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of my grandmother, but your bromance really did blossom after he ran you over, didn’t it?”

“It sure did.” He nodded to the sound of laughter coming from the kitchen. “Quick. What do I play again? Was it golf or tennis?”

“Very funny. Maybe we can start telling the truth?”

“I’d like that. I’m more of a soccer player.” He squeezed her hand and headed toward the kitchen.

“Not so fast.” She tugged him backward and nodded toward the stairs.

“Won’t we be missed?” he teased.

“I think we have a few more minutes before they form a search party. I thought you might like to take a quick shower. How’s your ankle?”

“Never better.”

From the smile on his face, she guessed he’d endure as much pain as he could stand for a few more minutes alone with her. Good.

She turned on the light to her old room and headed into the adjacent bathroom, emerging moments later with two white towels. “Here.” She tossed them to Tate.

“Two towels?”

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He smiled mischievously and yanked his sweater over his head.

His bare arms were around hers before she could reply. “I do have one idea,” he whispered into her ear and then pressed his mouth hard on hers.

She reluctantly pulled away. There was no way this was going to happen in her parents’ house. “We should probably stop.”

Tate let out a groan. “All right. You win.” He headed for the bathroom but turned around. “For now.”

Amanda flung herself onto the bed and reached for his sweater, bringing it to her face. It smelled of pine needles and his cologne. He was still her boyfriend for the next twenty-four hours. It would be a shame if they didn’t . . .

“Oh, why not.” She jumped off the bed and unzipped her boots. Her jeans and sweater came off just as quickly. She opened the door, creeping into the bathroom. The room had a walk in shower and a tub. She turned on the tub faucet so that the water ran slowly and would take a few minutes to fill up. She quietly slipped off the rest of her clothes and pulled open the handle to the shower’s steamy door.

Tate turned around and grinned down at her. He pulled her in and cupped her face with his wet hands, longing in his eyes. “I was hoping I’d get my Christmas wish.”

* * *

A few steamy minutes later, they moved from the shower to the bathtub and were surrounded in bubbles. “You know . . .” He rubbed her legs. “I’m pretty sure that last move in the shower puts you on the naughty list.”

She kissed his neck and swirled the foam around with her hands. “And with only a couple of hours to go. What was I thinking? I guess there’s always next year.” She started to rub his shoulders. “I think you also had some moves of your own in there that would warrant listing your name right under mine.” She rested her head on his back. “Doesn’t matter anyway. I stopped believing in Santa a long time ago.”

“When did you stop believing?”

“I don’t know. When I was ten maybe. Some boy told me I was stupid for still believing in Santa. I think I stopped that night.”

Tate turned back and kissed her lightly on the lips. “What a jerk.”

“You know what’s strange? Sometimes I think about that boy. I was even talking about him earlier today with my dad. I guess I just wonder if everything turned out okay for him. He was having a bad day, and I tried to help. I had never seen a kid so sad on Christmas Eve. It broke my heart.”

Tate opened his mouth to tell her that he had turned out just fine but was interrupted by a sudden knock on the door.

“Hey, you two in there?” Alex asked from the other side.

Amanda covered Tate’s mouth with her hands. He gently nibbled on a finger.

“Stop it.” She giggled.

“Guess you’re not in there.” Alex continued to talk through the door. “Maybe I should help Mom out and take these dirty clothes to the laundry.”

“He would,” she said to Tate. “We’ll be right out,” she shouted, sinking back into the water. “He’s never going to let me live this down.”

Alex continued to goad his sister. “Well, the spiked eggnog won’t last if you don’t come down soon. Grandma is on her third cup.”

“I said we’ll be right out,” Amanda said through gritted teeth. “Alex, get out of here.” She pulled herself out of the tub and wrapped a towel around her body. “I bet it’s almost eleven anyway. I’ll go see if we can stream the Internet on the TV in the living room so we can watch our news show.”

“Why would we want to do that?” Tate watched her move around. He was in no hurry to stand on his ankle. He also had no interest in watching the news. He really didn’t want to leave the guest room tonight for that matter.

“Oh, right. You don’t know. Lacy called me this afternoon and said they’re airing a taped segment on our toy drive tonight. The producers asked her to see if it was okay with us if they ran the story. I told them it was fine. I guess they had a bunch of kids in the studio earlier today. Lacy said she was going to be on camera.”

“Lacy’s going to be on TV?”

“That’s what she said. Jeff’s letting them all say ‘Merry Christmas’ after the final segment.” Her hands moved swiftly as she wrapped a towel around her head and tucked it around her face. She bent down and kissed his cheek. He grabbed her head and kissed her hard, trying to coax her back into the water.

“You’re bad.” She pulled away. “I’ll see you downstairs,” she said and disappeared into the bedroom.

Tate threw his arms over each side of the tub and looked up at the ceiling. This weekend was going better than he’d dreamed. Tomorrow he’d tell Amanda everything. Then at Christmas dinner, he’d lean over and whisper in her ear that she was his first kiss and that he loved her.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“Amanda, dear, where is Nate?” Grandma Turner asked from her rocking chair, waving her empty eggnog glass.

“Yeah, where is Nate?” Alex said, provoking Amanda from the sofa. “Looking for something to wear?”

Amanda had joined her family who had all gathered in the living room. “Shut up,” she mouthed and turned to her grandmother. “Grandma, his name is Tate. Not Nate. Tate.”

“Oh that’s right. Sorry. I once knew a Nate.”

Amanda’s mother came in with a tray of eggnog. “We know, Ma.” She grabbed the empty glass of eggnog and handed her a new one. “This one’s a virgin.”

Alex burst out laughing.

Amanda narrowed her eyes and sat down, giving him a hard poke. “It’s not like you’ve never had sex in this house,” she whispered.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite family.” Tate strolled over to the couch and Alex stood, letting him sit next to Amanda.

Tate had changed into khaki pants and a red sweater. No Christmas trees and no reindeer. Just red and just perfect. He draped his arm around her and she leaned in. What a perfect ending to a wonderful night.

Tate kissed her on the cheek and turned to her grandmother. “Good evening, Mrs. Turner.”

Her grandmother’s face lit up. “Why, Tate. I’ve been waiting for you all night. How was your day?”

Alex burst out laughing again. He had moved to the floor with Brenda. Brenda jabbed his ribs.

Amanda took a sip of her eggnog. “Mom, where are Brad and Melanie?”

“They are upstairs with Max. He’s been fussy tonight.”

She turned her attention to her dad who was playing with the TV’s remote control. He was trying to stream the Internet. “I think we’ve got it. Amanda, let me show you how to key in the website.”

Her mom reappeared with a tray full of eggnog sugar cookies. “Okay, eat up. Last batch of the season!” She stood in front of Tate and pointed at his ankle. “How is your ankle, Tate?”

“Much better,” Tate replied. “Thank you.”

“Well, can I get you anything?”

“Just these delicious cookies.” He reached over and grabbed a cookie from the tray.

Amanda pulled up the live feed of the station’s eleven o’clock news. “Here it is! There’s our studio. Okay, everyone. Quiet.”

“Mom, you’re not seriously going to make us watch this since she’s here this year, are you?” Alex quipped.

Amanda shot Alex a smug look. “Shut up. It’s tradition.” She returned to her seat next to Tate. His arm immediately went around her, and she leaned back. She smiled up at him. Hopefully they were on the path to starting new traditions of their own. Although hot shower sex every Christmas Eve might not be the most conventional.

She glanced at the television. “Oh, my goodness. Tate, how cute does the station look?” Toys were strewn all over their anchor desk. At least a dozen kids were on the studio’s floor playing with them. “Look how much fun the crew is having.”

“They never have this much fun when we’re anchoring,” Tate said to everyone.

“Look, there’s Lacy standing over there with the kids. Wow. What a dress. I told her to wear something pretty but that’s—”

“Quite the hot pink number.” Tate finished her sentence. “She also wore that to the office Christmas party that you missed.” He grabbed another cookie from the tray and took a bite. “Want one?”

Amanda ignored his question. “Hot pink,” she repeated in a trance. Her gaze zoomed in on Lacy’s hot pink outfit. Her smile faded.

Tate’s words from the heated exchange they had two days ago in his office replayed in her head.

“She wore pink, hot pink.”

“Everything okay, Ace?”

The concerned look on his face could not ease the fury that raged inside her.

“Her dress is hot pink.” She pointed to the TV. “She’s wearing hot pink. She’s the one you we’re talking about the other day. Oh my God. Lacy’s the bimbo in the hot pink dress,” she blurted out.

“What are you talking about?” Tate reached for hand.

“Don’t touch me.” She stood, threw her hands in the air, and stormed through the living room out the front door.

* * *

“Amanda, please stop,” Tate begged as he scrambled down the hill. His ankle was starting to hurt again, but it was nothing compared to the pain he felt in his chest. “Amanda, don’t do this.”

“Don’t do this? You did this,” she screamed back.

“No I didn’t. I just made that hot pink dress comment to get a rise out of you.” He grabbed her arm. “Would you stop?”

“Why should I believe you?” She yanked her arm free. “I knew you two were hiding something.”

“We’re not hiding anything.”

“Oh, no? Then why were you both so cozy on the stairs outside her apartment building yesterday? Probably talking about how much fun you had at the Christmas party.”

“That—” he stammered. “That is not true. Nothing happened at the Christmas party. I made the hot pink dress comment up to push your buttons. Besides, even if it were true, you can’t possibly be mad. We’re not even a real couple.” He instantly regretted saying that last sentence because from the look on her face, he could tell it struck a chord.

“You got that right,” she yelled. “This weekend was a mistake. Huge one.”

He grabbed both of her hands, covering them with his. “Amanda,” he pleaded. “Ace, I didn’t mean that. You and me—this is what I want. The sleigh. Just now upstairs. It’s all very real to me. It’s what I’ve wanted for so long.”

He raked his hands through his hair. It was time to tell her the truth—all of it.

“Listen to me. The moment I met you, I felt something.”

“What are you talking about?” She rolled her eyes. “We met on a bus. Oh, right, you were half dressed then. I should have known.”

“No, no before that.” He grabbed her hand.

“Let go of me.” She broke his hold. “What? Did you see me on the news and then start stalking me in hopes I’d be one of your conquests? Well, that’s just terrific. It appears you got exactly what you wanted,” she said, crossing her arms.

“That’s not what I mean. Just let me explain.”

She stared at him in silence.

He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to remember every moment of the night they first met.

“Amanda, you irritated me so much. All I wanted was to be left alone, but you wouldn’t go away. Then you kissed me. It . . .” He stopped. Words went dead in his throat. “It just surprised me.”

“What?” Amanda threw her hands up in the air. “Are you trying to say that you’ve been an unwilling participant? Because that’s not how I saw it! Do you already regret what happened upstairs?”

“Of course not. Let’s go inside and talk.”

She ignored him. “You know, everyone this weekend has been telling me to open my eyes. Everybody! Lacy, my grandmother, random strangers . . . But you know what? My eyes were open this entire time, and they see standing right here what they saw from the moment we met on that bus—an arrogant, womanizing ass.”

“That wasn’t our first meeting,” he said flatly.

“Yes it was.”

“No it wasn’t, and you’re wrong. I’m not either of those things. And you know it. And you also know deep down in that damaged heart of yours—” Frustrated, he spun around but turned back. “I didn’t realize it until this weekend, but I’m probably the best thing that has happened to you in a long time . . . if ever.”

She shot him one last repulsed look and tore down the hill. He tried to run after her, but his limp hindered his speed. She had reached the bottom and now stood in the middle of the dirt road.

“Never again, Tate Ryan. I will not be fooled by the likes of you. My eyes are wide open as far as you’re concerned.”

“Amanda, let’s go back to the house,” he pleaded. Car lights were quickly approaching. “We can go upstairs and talk. Please, just get out of the road—”

A loud screech muffled his pleas.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Amanda climbed the steep hill to her parents’ cabin alone. It was daylight and extremely foggy. When had the fog rolled in? The thick mist wrapped around her legs and ankles. She could barely see what was directly in front of her let alone make out the log cabin.

How long had she been outside? She must have gotten lost in the woods. The fight she had earlier with Tate still fresh in her mind. She remembered it ended with bright lights blinding her, probably from one of the Christmas trees on the lot. Alex was always rigging up some kind of bright lights display. It must have been his Christmas Eve lights finale.

She should have known better than to bring Tate home, let alone have sex with him. Even if he was telling the truth about him and Lacy, how many other women at the station had he attempted to be with?

What did it matter? They weren’t even a couple, a fact Tate all too quickly pointed out last night. She sighed. Another Christmas Eve ending in humiliation and heartbreak.

Her foot came down on a soft fury object. “Oops, I’m sorry,” she said, looking down at a buff colored tabby on the walkway. “That’s odd. I thought Grandma’s cat was grey.” She crouched down and petted the feline’s soft fur. “Hello. Who are you?”

The cat answered back by rubbing its head repeatedly on her hand. “You look just like my cat, Sydney. She was such a good kitty. I miss her.” The cat continued to rub its tiny head against her. “Are you hungry? Let’s go get you some food.” She stood, her sweater constricting underneath her jacket. The weather seemed to be unseasonably warm. There also wasn’t a trace of snow on her boots.

Not wanting to wake her family, she opened the door and tiptoed inside.

She gasped. Where were the spiral stairs? This wasn’t her parents’ house. She looked down. The white mist had rolled into the house and coiled around her legs.

Her heart beat faster as panic pulsed through her. “Where am I?” She stepped all the way in the house. “Is anyone home?” She stood frozen, letting a few seconds pass. Complete silence.

This was how really bad horror movies started out. Whatever she did, she would not run up the stairs.

But she didn’t feel like she was in a horror movie. No, far from it. There was something oddly familiar about this house that comforted, not frightened, her. What was it? She inched her way into a small living room where she saw a sofa, a wicker rocking chair with a plum cushion, and a fireplace. A round ball of green yarn and knitting needles were lying on the chair. To the right of the fireplace was a beautiful Christmas tree saturated with exquisite silver and blue ornaments. A bright silver star glistened on top.

She walked over to the stone mantel and stared at a gold framed picture of a family. “No, this can’t be,” she said and shook her head in disbelief.

It was her family’s Christmas photo from years ago, when Amanda was ten. They were wearing identical Christmas sweaters.

She knew exactly where she was.

“I can’t be here, can I?” Even if she had walked the five miles to her grandparents’ farm house, it had been years since they’d lived in it. Why was there a picture of her family on the mantel? She entered the foyer, now recognizing the dark brown banister that led up to the second floor. Her fingers glided over the wood as she remembered how she and Alex used to slide down it as kids, especially on Christmas morning.

“Grandma? Grandpa?” She paused, not quite sure if she had lost her mind. “Are you here?”

“Amanda!” A plump old woman entered the foyer. Her fine grey hair swept up into a bun. She wore a green and white gingham apron. Around her neck was a gold necklace that read, Betty.”

Amanda’s jaw dropped at the sight of her grandmother. She ran over and hugged her, smelling the faint scent of gardenias coming from her grandmother’s silver hair. The flower had always been her favorite. “Grandma? How is this possible? I don’t understand.”

“You will.” Grandma Thompson cupped Amanda’s face with her hands. “You must be hungry. Follow me. I’ve got to check on dinner.”

Amanda dutifully followed. Growing up, they’d often had dinner with her Grandma and Grandpa Thompson on Saturdays and their Grandma and Grandpa Turner on Sundays.

A familiar aroma filled the air. “Grandma, are you baking your famous lasagna?” Peering through the stove’s glass, she could see cheese oozing inside the pasta. Her tongue could already taste her grandmother’s special sauce. If this was a dream, it certainly was a delicious one.

Grandma Thompson laughed. “You remember.”

“How could I forget? We haven’t had lasagna as good as this since . . . ” Her voice trailed off. It had been a long time since she’d seen her grandparents. “Is Grandpa here, too?”

Betty rummaged through the refrigerator. “What can I get you to eat? How about a sandwich?”

“I would love one.”

“Peanut butter and jelly still your favorite?”

“You know me well.” Amanda sat on a kitchen bar stool and scanned the room. It looked just as she remembered. The buff tabby from outside was now on the floor, sipping water from a bowl.

“Did you get a cat?”

Her grandmother followed her gaze and smiled. “She came to us about ten years ago. Bit finicky. We think she misses her owner.”

“She looks just like my Sydney.”

“Dear, can you grab me a cup from the cupboard?”

“Sure.” Amanda jumped up and glanced out the kitchen’s back window. “Grandma, it’s awfully foggy out there.”

“Oh, it’s always like that. Doesn’t matter what time of day. We’re used to it.”

“Really? Is Grandpa out there? Couldn’t he get hurt?”

“He’s dealt with it much longer than I have. He’s the one who taught me how to maneuver around.”

“Where did you say he was?”

“Oh, he’s out and about. He’ll be here soon.” She set the sandwich in front of Amanda. Thick, chunky peanut butter and raspberry jelly oozed out from the white bread.

“Oooh! Crustless! Just like I like it.”

Betty grabbed the cup and poured some milk into it. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know how much you love coffee, but we don’t drink it much. Is this okay?”

Amanda nodded and chewed her sandwich. “How do you know about my coffee addiction?” She was pretty sure that the last time she saw her grandmother, she had been too young to drink the stuff.

Her grandmother chuckled. “Oh, we’ve known for some time. Okay. I’m going to be out back. You finish eating your lunch and come join me when you’re ready. There’s something I want to show you.”

Obediently eating her sandwich, Amanda watched her grandmother leave from the back door. Was this family reunion with her deceased grandma really happening?

Perhaps she should pinch herself to see if she was dreaming. She grabbed her arm and started to tug at her skin but hesitated. “The only problem is . . . I don’t want to wake up.” She reached down and petted the soft tabby that was now lying at her feet.

She finished her sandwich and headed outside to find her grandmother. The fog was twice as thick in the backyard. It resembled the pockets of fluffy clouds one would see from the window of an airplane. “How does anyone get anything done with all this fog to navigate around? It would drive me absolutely insane.”

Her grandmother approached. “We manage. As I said earlier, we’ve gotten quite used to it.”

“It seems so.” She could make out the silhouette of an old man who appeared to be walking around the house. “Is that Grandpa? Where’s he going?”

“Not far. He just wants to let someone else know that you’re here with us.”

“Here?” Amanda repeated. “Grandma, where exactly is ‘here’?”

“That boyfriend of yours is quite a handsome man,” Betty said.

Was her grandmother dodging her question? Amanda sighed. “Not you, too. He’s not what he seems. Trust me.” She raised an eyebrow. “Wait. You’re talking about Tate, aren’t you? How do you know him?”

“Oh, we’ve been watching.”

“Sorry?”

“Come, let’s take a peek at what we’ve been watching, shall we?” She motioned for Amanda to follow her even deeper into the thick fog.

“You want to go in there?” Had her grandmother lost her mind? “Grandma, I can’t see two feet in front of me. I know you’re used to this, but I won’t know where I’m going. I nearly trampled your cat earlier.”

“Don’t worry. We’re going in together.” Betty took Amanda’s arm and guided her slowly. Cool mist hit Amanda’s face as she tried to focus her eyes.

“Where are we?” She could make out the outline of an apartment building. Turning around, she could no longer see her grandparents’ house.

“I don’t understand. When did they build an apartment complex behind your . . .” Her voice trailed. She took a step backward and rubbed her eyes. Were they playing a joke on her or was that Tate sitting on the front steps? She frowned as Lacy joined him. “I don’t think I want to see any more.”

“I see you recognize where we are?” Betty asked.

“I don’t know how this could even be possible, but we’re in front of my assistant’s apartment building. What we’re watching happened two days ago.”

“You are correct.”

“Grandma, I don’t understand. Can they see us?”

“No. They can’t hear us either. Let’s listen.”

Amanda crossed her arms around her. “Yeah, this should be good,” she said coolly.

“Hi,” Tate said to Lacy, moving over for her to join him on the stairs.

“Hi,” Lacy said, taking a seat.

“Some year, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s one way to describe it.”

Amanda walked over and stood in front of them. “Worst year of my life."

“Dear, they can’t hear you,” Betty interjected. “Just listen.”

Tate continued to speak to Lacy. “Do you really think it’s a good idea?”

“I do.” Lacy giggled, in a Tate, you’re such a hopeless romantic kind of way.” She tugged on his suit. “You know, eventually you’re going to have to tell her the truth.”

“What truth?” Amanda said.

Tate smiled at Lacy. “I know. I think I’ve got it all planned out. I’m going tell her this weekend, just before Christmas dinner.” He chuckled. “I just need to get her to invite me home first.”

“Well, if I know you, you’ll think of something. Happy holidays, Tate. I hope you get your Christmas wish.” They hugged.

The embrace that Amanda had walked out on. She glanced at her grandmother. “So am I to understand he came up with this idea because he has feelings for me? Since when?”

Her Grandma nodded. “I think we need to go further back in your story for you to understand his motivations.”

“Story?”

“Your love story.”

“With Tate? It’s not that long, and it’s over.” Amanda followed her grandmother back into the mist. “And I’d hardly call it love. More like a stupid and temporary lapse in judgment.”

They left the apartment building and were deep into the fog once again. She strained her eyes, making out a gas station and a highway. “Where are we now?”

“Shhh . . . You always were the grandchild who asked the most questions. Probably why you became an anchor.”

“You know I’m a journalist?”

“Sure do. Pretty good one. Glad you finally busted that crooked mayor of yours. Now just watch and listen. It’s very important that you listen to this conversation.”

“Fine.” At least her grandmother wasn’t telling her to open her eyes like her other grandmother had. “Wait. Is that the gas station on Main Street in Hammondsport?” She saw her dad talking to a strange woman. They were both pumping gas. He looked different. So much younger . . .

She gasped as her gaze shifted to her father’s truck and the young girl inside. “That’s me? How was her grandmother able to take her back in time like this, and what did this memory have to do with Tate?

“Do you remember what happens next?” Her grandmother gently put her hand on Amanda’s shoulder.

“I’m about to follow that boy into the store.”

Betty nodded.

They watched as the little girl got out of the truck and bounced inside. She bent down and picked up something from the ground.

“I picked up a ten-dollar bill. This is the night our cookie tradition started.” She watched the little girl approach the boy inside and hand him the money. A few minutes went by. Young Amanda followed the boy out and then went to the truck. There she took out a box and ran over to the station wagon.

Amanda knew exactly what was going to happen next. “I’m going to come back to the truck, and Dad’s going to tell me to let them know there’s eggnog in the cookies. I learned the secret ingredient that night.”

The little girl tapped on the window of the boy’s car with her small hand. Amanda listened.

“Tate, where are you manners? Honestly. Roll down your window,” the woman ordered.

Amanda watched as her younger self relayed the information her father told her and then proceeded to kiss the boy on the lips. She walked over and peered into the car at the young boy. He had short brown hair and blue eyes. “Tate was the boy?”

Betty nodded.

“Then the woman in the car has to be his mother.”

“They were headed out of town that night. It was a rough time for both of them. Mr. Ryan had recently passed away.”

“He was the first boy I ever kissed. I don’t even know why I did it. It was just an impulse. I felt so connected to him that night. I felt his pain.” She stared at her grandmother. “This doesn’t make sense. Has he known all this time that I was the little girl?”

“I need to go in and check on the lasagna, but your grandfather is back and excited to see you.”

The house appeared through the fog. She turned around, but her grandmother was gone. How did she do that? Directly in front of Amanda on the back porch was her Grandpa Bruce Thompson.

She ran and climbed the stairs, flinging her arms around the frail man. “Grandpa! Is it really you?” She held him tightly.

“Didn’t remember what I looked like, did you?” He laughed and patted her arms. “It has been awhile. So, I take it Betty showed you the first time you met Tate.”

Her eyes widened. “You know him, too? How did you both know it was the first time? I didn’t even know.”

Bruce winked. “I’ll explain everything, but you need to follow me. There’s another scene just over the hill that you have to see.” He grabbed her hand and winked. “You’re gonna like this one.”

Amanda followed her Grandpa Thompson back into the mist. Scene? What twisted version of A Christmas Carol was this?

She stepped down onto a rickety wooden step. The steps were attached to a worn-looking trailer. “I know where we are. This is Kristen Bailey’s home. I climbed these steps last night. I had dinner with Kristen and her girls.”

Grandpa Thompson opened the door and held it out, motioning with his hand for her to walk through. Inside, Tate was talking to the girls beside the tree. He had on the Santa suit. Amanda and Alex sat on the couch.

“I suspect your grandmother told you that they can’t see or hear us.”

“She did.” She watched herself laughing with her brother. “This happened last night. I couldn’t hear what Tate was saying to the girls.”

“Well, now’s your chance. Go take a seat.” He motioned for Amanda to sit on the floor.

She walked over to the Christmas tree and crouched behind Chloe and Danielle. They were hanging on Tate’s every word.

“Yummm.” Tate took a bite of the cookie and handed another one to Melanie. “For the baby.” He winked.

Turning to Chloe and Danielle he said, “Many years ago on Christmas Eve, a little girl, just a few years older than the both of you, gave me a box that had these same cookies in it. That one simple act of kindness changed my life.”

“How so?” Melanie asked, taking a bite.

“I had nothing left to believe in. My dad had just . . .” He paused, looking at Chloe and Danielle. “Gone on a trip. But the girl came along and simply cared enough to make sure I still believed in Santa.” He stopped and corrected himself. “Believed in me. I didn’t know it then, but I met my true love that day.” He glanced over at the couch and winked.

Amanda covered her mouth in surprise. “Oh my gosh. Tate knew I was the girl.”

“Appears he did.”

“But how?”

“He remembered your name and tracked you down years ago. Apparently, you were the only ten-year-old in town that year named Amanda.”

“Why didn’t he ever say anything?”

“It’s hard for Tate to let people in, but there was one person he confided in. Let’s go see what he told her.” He put out his hand and helped her up.

She took it, still watching Tate laugh with the girls. “And he loves me. He was trying to tell me last night.”

“I know. We saw.”

“Grandpa, what have I done?”

“Nothing that can’t be undone.” He smiled reassuringly. “This time.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will.” Bruce led his granddaughter out the door.

Amanda could hear the sounds of waves crashing. Her boots sank deep into the ground. “Is this sand? Are we at the beach?” She turned back to see a familiar boardwalk behind her. “I know exactly where we are. This is the beach near my condo in Wilmington.”

Ahead of her, she saw Tate sitting on a blue bench with an attractive older woman who wore a navy blue jogging suit. “Great, another fan,” she said sarcastically.

“Sorry?” her grandfather asked.

“Nothing.” She forced a smile. “I know the drill. Shut up and listen.”

The woman handed Tate a cup of coffee and a donut. “Here.” She set a napkin on his lap. “I thought you could use some fuel.”

“Thanks, Aunt Bridgette. I’m starving.” He set the items to his side, stood, and took off his jacket and royal blue tie. “Don’t want to get this all over me. I’m doing camera tests later on.”

“You’re so conscientious. Your mom and dad would’ve been so proud of you.”

Tate nodded. “This is going to sound funny, but do you want to hear the reason I became an anchor?”

“Why?”

“Because of a girl I met when I was thirteen. I kept tabs on her and found out she was studying broadcast journalism in college. I didn’t even think twice about what I was going to do with my life.”

“Really?” The older woman raised her eyebrow. “So you chose your career path because of a girl?”

“I guess I did.” He laughed and took a sip of his coffee. “I hope it wasn’t a mistake.”

“Are you friends with this woman?”

“No. I only saw her that one time. We’ve never met officially, but we’re going to today.”

“She lives here? What a coincidence. Well, if I know you, she’s not going to know what hit her.”

Tate cracked his knuckles. “I can’t believe how nervous I am.”

Amanda followed his gaze past the boardwalk. A city bus turned the corner onto the street.

“Shoot. I’ve lost track of time, Aunt Bridgette.” He grabbed his jacket from the bench. “That’s my bus.”

“Don’t forget your tie.” She handed it to him. “Good luck on your interview. We’ll see you tonight for dinner?”

“You bet. I’m picking up my new Jeep later this afternoon. We’ll take it for a spin.”

Amanda watched Tate as he raced for the bus, his coat and tie in hand. She smiled, remembering him piecing on that very same suit while sitting next to her that morning. She had no doubt that she was sitting on that very bus. “Grandpa, he finally found me that day.”

“Yes, he did. And in a way, I think he found himself. You’ve been his inspiration for quite some time.”

“Then why do we fight like we do? Just this week he sabotaged my story—” She paused. “Well, I thought he did.”

“We suspect he’s been a little overwhelmed by the situation and afraid of this inexplicable pull he has to you. We’re sure he didn’t want to come across as a stalker.”

She let her boots sink further into the sand. “Well, I wish he would’ve had the courage to reveal himself a long time ago. We’ve done a lot of fighting this year.”

Bruce reached for her arm. “Shall we?” He guided her slowly down the boardwalk, but it was no longer the familiar wooden walkway.

They were inside a building. “Looks like you have a visitor over there.” He pointed to a red bench where another old man sat, holding a small Christmas tree. A collie lay at his feet.

“Grandpa Turner!” Amanda ran over to the bench.

“Amanda.” Grandpa Jim Turner stood and embraced her. “You gave Betty, Bruce, and me quite the scare. Come sit with me.” He motioned for her to join him on the bench.

The bench was familiar. “I think I sat on this exact same bench just yesterday. Are we at the hospital?”

Both men nodded.

“I met this man named George. We chatted for a bit.” She glanced up at Bruce. “He told me to tell you that he and Mary said hi.”

“Aw, George. He and Mary do such great work for us down there.”

“Down there?” Amanda asked.

“I’m going to leave you two to catch up,” Bruce said and headed into the fog.

Why did her grandparents keep disappearing like that? They’d have to tell her what was going on eventually, wouldn’t they?

She bent down and petted the tan collie. “Is this Charlie? Grandma Turner told the story yesterday all about how you proposed to her with a Christmas tree. Pretty romantic,” she teased.

“Yes, your grandmother could never turn down a good man with a nice trunk,” he chuckled.

She giggled. Her Grandpa Turner had always been a dirty old man. “So I’m going to assume you know Tate, too?”

“Fine young man. A bit of a putz, though.”

“I know, right?” She nodded. Finally, someone who saw Tate like she did. Leaning back on the bench, she looked around. They were definitely on the first floor of the hospital. “Okay, so if we’re going with the Christmas Carol theme, I’ve seen Tate’s and my past. Will you be showing me our present or future?”

Her grandfather stood and motioned for her to follow him. They walked down a long hallway and turned into a white, sterile room. The fog was even inside the hospital, making it difficult to see where they were going. Her grandpa led them to a room and opened the door.

She froze in horror.

Her family and Tate were huddled around a bed. There was a body hooked up to an IV machine. “Oh my God. Is that me in the bed?”

“Afraid so, pumpkin.” Grandpa Turner walked over and placed his hands on her Grandmother Turner’s shoulders. Her grandmother reached up into the air, touching the exact spot where his hands were. “I’ve been practicing that move with her for years. I think she finally senses that I’m always with her.”

Tate sat hunched over, inches from Amanda’s motionless body. He held her limp hand in his. “Jack, Diane, could I have a moment in private with your daughter?” he asked her parents, not taking his eyes off her lifeless body.

“His beautiful blue eyes, they’re so dark,” Amanda muttered. “What happened to me, Grandpa?” Tears were starting to well in her eyes. “Was there an accident? Why am I here?”

“Well, it seems both Tate and you have a propensity to get hit by cars. This time an SUV skidded on a patch of black ice. It hit you very hard, I’m afraid.”

Her eyes widened. “No! Last night? I don’t remember being in an accident.”

She remembered standing in the middle of the road and screaming at Tate. There were also bright lights. “This has to be a dream.” She closed her eyes.

When she opened them, Tate was the only one left in the room with her body. He hadn’t left her side.

He pulled her hand gently to his lips and kissed it. “Well, Ace. What a year it has been since that bus ride.”

“What is he doing? Grandpa, is he saying goodbye to me?”

Tate continued. “I want to thank you. I was floundering, so afraid to finally meet you—and then when I did, I was too afraid to tell you that I loved you. I never thought I was good enough to be in your life. The way I acted when we first met on that cold Christmas Eve night . . . But you saw past my stupidity. You gave me a reason to . . .”

He stopped. Amanda could tell he was choking back tears. “To become the man you knew I’d grow up to be. You were my first kiss. You. Not Melanie. I love you, Amanda.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his lucky charm. Slipping the shiny rock in her palm, he closed her hand and leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “We will have Christmas dinner together one day.”

Amanda looked down. She couldn’t bear to see him in so much pain. The buff tabby had suddenly appeared and was twisting its fury body through her legs. She gently scooped up the kitty. Her Grandma and Grandpa Thompson had joined them in the hospital room.

She knew in her heart exactly where she was. “My sweet, sweet Sydney,” she said, kissing her cat who had passed away ten years ago. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“She’s missed you, too,” her grandmother said.

“That’s not fog out there, is it?” Amanda asked.

“No, it’s not. They’re clouds,” Grandpa Thompson answered. “We’re way above them.”

“Am I dead?”

Her grandmother put her arm around her. “No, dear. You’re in a coma.”

She sighed and glanced over at her body, hanging on to life. “Am I going to make it?”

A few seconds went past. Her grandmother broke the silence. “Your injuries are pretty severe. We were surprised by the news that you would be visiting us. We got our letter last month saying you would be arriving soon.”

“Letter?”

“That’s how the angels share the news about who will be next to join us. It gives families time to accept what is going to happen and prepare for the imminent arrival of their loved one.”

“Really? What did it say?”

She pulled out a velvet white envelope from her apron and handed it to Amanda.

Amanda gingerly opened the envelope, pulling out the matching velvet white paper.

Silver cursive words stated that Amanda Noel Turner would be arriving on December 24 at 11:42 P.M. The outside of the envelope was addressed to Bruce and Betty Thompson and dated November 24.

“We’ve never received a letter. We were quite shocked to learn that it was you who would be the first in your family to join us,” Grandpa Thompson said.

“It broke our hearts to read you would be here for Christmas dinner.” Her grandmother touched her arm.

“Christmas dinner,” she repeated. Her eyes rested on the rock Tate had placed in her dying body’s hand. Tate’s special rock that now read Xmas Dinner.

This connection to him, and his link to her mortality, was just too much for her to take. “I’ve missed all of you so much.” She took a few seconds to look in the eyes of each grandparent. “But I don’t think I can stay for Christmas dinner. Not this year.”

Grandmother Thompson was the first to speak. “We know. We thought your stay would be permanent, but as you can see . . .” She motioned to the bed. “You’re quite the fighter.”

“Fighter? Is this the present or future? How long have I been in a coma?”

“Three weeks.”

“Three weeks,” Amanda repeated. This had to be so painful for Tate and her family. She snapped back into the moment. “What do I do? How do I change this?”

“Your fate will take you back to where you belong. You’ll open your eyes soon and you will go back to your family.”

Her grandmother gave Amanda a gentle squeeze and placed her hand on Amanda’s stomach. “You’ll go back and start your own family,” she whispered into hear ear.

Amanda raised an eyebrow. “My family?” She instinctively reached down and touched her stomach. She couldn’t be—could she?

“Hey, you can’t see everything that goes on down there, can you?”

Grandpa Turner gave a hearty chuckle. “Nah, we only see what the big guy in charge wants us to see.”

Amanda felt her cheeks redden, thinking about the shower tryst with Tate. “Good,” she stammered, “I mean, Tate and I have had some doozy fights. I wouldn’t want you to see us acting like children.”

Grandma Thompson squeezed her shoulders. “You ready to go home?”

Amanda blinked back tears. She’d miss her grandparents, but now was not her time. “Yes, I am.”

She walked over to Tate and sat on the edge of the bed. She hoped he could feel her ghostly presence just like her Grandma Turner had felt her granddad’s.

“Tate, I’ve been wrong about so many things. I know everything now, and I understand. I’m so in love with you.” Amanda watched as Tate got up and walked toward the door. Her heart sank. He couldn’t be leaving.

“Don’t you give up on me, Tate Ryan!” she shouted. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me who is the better kisser—me or Melanie!” She watched in horror as he walked out the door.

“He couldn’t feel my presence,” she said. “What do I do now? How do I stop this?”

Her grandmother grabbed Amanda’s hand. “All you need to do is open your eyes. We’ll have dinner waiting for when it’s the right time for you to come back. A nice lasagna.” With that, she scooped up the little feline from the floor.

“Goodbye, Amanda,” her grandparents said in unison.

She watched as the three elderly figures disappeared into the white clouds.

“Goodbye,” she said softly. It was comforting to know her deceased grandparents were always watching over her.

She stood over the bed and stared at her lifeless body. What should she do? Open your eyes. The words from Lacy, George, and both her grandmothers echoed in her head.

Praying seemed like the appropriate thing to do. If there was any chance a prayer would be answered, the odds had to be in her favor up here. She hopped onto the bed and began to lie on top of the body. Her body.

She felt a strange sensation as if she were merging with the lifeless figure. “Open your eyes, Amanda,” she chanted over and over, determined to finally do what everyone had advised her to do all along.

She finally understood what they meant.

EPILOGUE

One Year Later

Today was the day and tonight was the night that Tate Ryan would finally do it. He would get down on one knee and ask the woman he loved to spend the rest of her life with him as his wife.

His hands were slightly trembling as he opened the blue box. He examined its sparkling contents one last time then gently shut the lid. So much had happened this year. This Christmas, he was looking forward to starting a new chapter with the woman he loved.

Amanda stormed into his office and slammed his door. “We need to talk.”

“Hey, Ace, what’s wrong?” He’d thought the days of slammed doors and narrowed eyes were behind them, but glancing at the now crooked clock above his door, apparently they weren’t. “Everything okay?”

Amanda placed both her hands on his desk and leaned forward.

“I gather not.” He put the tiny box back in his pocket.

“I cannot believe you told Melanie she was a better kisser.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Alex said that Brenda told him that Brad said—”

“Stop.” He paused and then laughed. “I know what you’re doing. You want me to admit that you’re a better kisser. You know I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Why won’t you just admit it?” She glanced up at the clock and flew out the door. “This conversation is not over.”

“It never is with you,” he called out. He was fast on her heels, fiddling with a deep red tie that matched her festive red suit perfectly. He loved it when she wore red. It accentuated everything he loved about her.

They walked into the studio. “You’re a jerk.” She took her seat and smoothed her hair.

“But you still love me.” He took his seat next to her.

“Do not.”

“Oh, I think you do.”

“You love birds at it again?” asked Ernie, aiming the camera toward them.

“Hey, I have something for you.” Tate got up from his stool and reached deep into his pants’ pocket.

Amanda put her hand up in protest. “Don’t care. Don’t want it.”

“You’ll want this, Ace. Trust me.”

“I don’t want your stupid rock with its silly Xmas Dinner saying. Keep it in your pocket because you are going to need all the luck you can get,” she warned.

Her twinkling green eyes and devilish grin were dead giveaways that she was really enjoying this banter. “You’re on diaper duty from this day forward.”

Tate laughed and leaned over, placing the robin-egg blue box in front of her. They had decided to wait to get married until Amanda fully recovered from her surgery and extensive doctor visits after the car accident last Christmas Eve. They also wanted to concentrate on her pregnancy—an unexpected gift from that night.

Now that mother and baby, Nicholas, were both fine, there was one thing left for him to do—and given their history, the Christmas season was the perfect time to do it. He realized he wasn’t on bended knee, but it somehow seemed right to do it now.

“Open it,” he said.

“Fine.” She slowly opened the box that revealed a sparkling diamond ring. She lifted it out and read the inscription inside. “Eggnog,” she said softly.

He could see tears forming in her eyes and knew it was the perfect word that bound them from their first kiss on that Christmas Eve when they were kids until today.

“Tate, it’s perfect.”

“Who knew that stupid boy would turn out to be your soul mate?”

She laughed. “My grandparents did.” She looked up at the ceiling and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

“Marry me, Ace.” Tate held his breath for the answer.

“And three, two, one.” Ernie signaled.

“Good evening, Wilmington. I’m Tate Ryan.”

Amanda placed the engagement ring on her finger, holding her hand out to admire its perfect fit. “And I’m . . . um . . .” The teleprompter wasn’t jammed, but her answer wasn’t on it either. He knew she had this.

“And I’m going to be Amanda Ryan.” She winked at Tate while showing off her ring to the camera. “Your five o’clock news starts right now. Thanks for joining us.”

More from This Author

(From Destination Wedding by Robyn Neeley)

“I do. I do.” Wedding planner Kate Ashby quietly repeated her calming mantra. Paralyzed in her window seat, she stared at the illuminated fasten seatbelt sign while her hands gripped the metal buckle strap.

Please turn off. Please turn off. They had to be close to cruising altitude. Soon, she’d be able to request a strong drink to knock her out for the duration of this bumpy flight.

She sat still, trying to ignore the terror pulsating through her. Why hadn’t she bought sleeping pills before boarding a twelve-hour flight from New York City to Hawaii? Now, that would have been the smart thing to do.

Glancing out the tiny passenger window, she clutched her gold “K” necklace. It was completely irrational to be terrified and she realized the odds of her and her fellow passengers landing safely in Honolulu were more than in her favor. Still, this was her first time flying such a long duration. Departing Manhattan this evening in turbulent thunderstorms had shot her nerves. She was grateful that her boss had sprung for a first class ticket for the long flight.

A loud rattle caused her to grab hold to her armrests. “What was that?” She turned to the stranger sitting next to her. He had short blondish brown hair and was wearing a blue blazer. His face had a nice tan. She had failed to realize that her row mate was incredibly handsome. Usually the person sitting next to her was a grandparent or couldn’t speak English. Perhaps he could help her ease her nerves?

“Um … I think it’s the drink cart. Would you like something?” He folded his Wall Street Journal.

Sexy and smart.

“I’ll take a tequila and tonic,” he said to the flight attendant.

And likes his drinks strong. This could be fun.

She ran her hand along the fabric of her hem, praising herself silently for choosing to wear her white sheath dress and matching jacket. It oozed confidence with each expensive thread. At this point in her career, she had no business wearing such a costly outfit. Although she’d be making partner soon and needed to start dressing the part, at least that’s how she rationalized the purchase. It certainly was the perfect outfit for a chance encounter with a handsome businessman.

“Miss, what would you like?” the flight attendant asked.

“Tomato juice, please.” She glanced out the window. “How long until we land?”

The flight attendant cracked a smile. “Just eleven and a half short hours.”

Kate sighed. “Then can you throw some vodka in?”

The flight attendant handed her a small can of tomato juice and a plastic cup filled with ice cubes. Two tiny vodka bottles were lodged inside. “Here you go. I slipped in an extra one for later. Press that button up there if you need more.”

“Thank you.” Kate unscrewed one of the bottles and poured it into her cup, swirling it around with her hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the stranger tuck his newspaper into the seat pocket in front of him. Her eyes darted to his ring finger. No wedding band.

He turned to her, and she noticed his sexy full lips and blue eyes. One word to describe him. Hot. Way cuter than any guy she’d ever dated.

“Don’t fly much?” he asked and smiled. She caught the small dimple in his right cheek.

“All the — ” Her head jolted. Geez. How many turbulent air pockets would they speed through? She grimaced and grabbed the edge of her seat. Push through it Kate. “I fly for work all the time but usually only quick trips up and down the west coast.”

“Flying never bothers me.” He swiveled his glass. “Thanks to my tequila friend, I’ll be out like a light in no time.”

Mr. Sexy was planning on going to sleep? She should have known. Typical man.

She downed the vodka straight and cracked open the tomato juice, pouring its contents into the empty plastic cup. Unscrewing the second vodka bottle, she added the clear liquid and gave it a swirl. Maybe she could keep him up for a few more minutes until the alcohol fully took effect.

“I’m Kate, by the way.”

“Drew.” He sipped his drink.

“Nice to meet you.” Kate brought the cup to her lips. Why was his name so familiar? She hadn’t dated a Drew. Truth be told, she hadn’t dated anyone lately. After a number of failed attempts with men who were either only after one thing or just plain wrong for her, she decided to throw herself into her work. It was easier that way.

The plane shook hard, causing her to spill her drink. The tomato juice seeped through her dress, dampening her skin. “Damn it!”

“Here.” He handed her his cocktail napkin.

“Thank you.” Of course this would happen. She was prone to accidents. Last month, she had spilled an entire glass of wine on a bride’s wedding gown right before she walked down the aisle. She blotted her dress. Two hundred dollars — for more confidence — down the drain. Frustration now competed with fear to take over her body.

She bit down on an ice cube while watching the first class flight attendant secure the beverage cart and take her seat. It was never a good sign when they suspended drink service. This couldn’t be good. She knew it.

She couldn’t help but think about her babies who were waiting for her back home. What if she orphaned them? Who would be their caretaker? Certainly not her mother. Her hands tightened around her seatbelt. “Oh, God. Who’s going to raise Carly and Sydney? This is not happening. Please, God. Please. I promise if we land safely I will never ever miss church again. I’ll visit my parents every Christmas and stop wasting time tweeting at work.”

“Are Carly and Sydney your daughters?”

Kate looked over. She had forgotten about Drew for a second. Was he smirking? Well that’s just terrific. He’s finding her meltdown humorous. Jerk. He’ll wipe that stupid grin off his face when this gigantic metal tube dives nose first into the ground.

“No. They’re my cats,” she wailed. “My fur babies, and they’ll be orphans.” She buried her head in her hands.

She felt something hit her leg and moved her hands. It was Drew’s seat belt buckle.

“I’ll be right back. I need to use the bathroom.” He headed for the back of the plane.

“You’re not supposed to get up until they turn off the sign,” Kate called out. Why couldn’t he use the front lavatory? He probably thought she was crazy. She sighed. Maybe she was. Taking a deep breath, she stared up at the illuminated seat belt sign. Figures the one flight she’s seated next to a gorgeous man, she’s too terrified to flirt.

* * *

Luke Cannon reclined his seat and closed his weary eyes. It had been one whirlwind of a work week. No doubt about it. His reward? Several interrupted hours of much needed sleep. Then again, with was all this swaying he wondered how much shuteye he would actually get.

He often flew for his job working in the family business as his father’s right-hand man, but his identical twin brother arranged this trip half-assed at the last possible minute.

Speaking of his mirror image.

“Dude, put this on.” Drew approached, peeling off his blazer and throwing it into Luke’s lap. He held on to the headrest for balance.

“Why?” Luke raised his eyebrow. What was his brother up to now? He was still pissed at Drew for sticking him in coach while he sat his imperial butt up in first class.

“Look, I need you to switch places with me. You can have my seat up there for the rest of the flight. Plenty of legroom and all the complimentary drinks you want.”

Luke cocked his head and peered down the aisle toward the front of the cabin. “You want me to trade seats with you? Why?”

“Because I feel bad for sticking my older bro in coach.”

“Yeah, right.” Luke was only a few minutes older. A fact Drew seemed to always enjoy pointing out, especially when he wanted something. “Which flight attendant did you piss off already?”

“No one. Come on. Go up there and sit in 3C. The woman next to me is driving me freakin’ crazy. She’s afraid of flying.”

“So wait. You want me to sit with the lunatic? Why do I need to pretend I’m you?”

“The flight attendants won’t let us switch. I already asked.”

“I don’t blame them. They’re just messing with you. Go sit down.”

“I don’t think so.” Drew thrust his ticket into Luke’s hand. “Here, take this and leave yours.”

Luke reached for the emergency instructions card in his front seat pocket and pretended to read it. “I don’t know. If you want me to spend this whole flight trapped next to a crazy woman … ” he glanced at his brother and smirked, “well, I need something in return.”

“Really, dude? You’re going to do this to me now?” Drew’s agitation came through loud and clear.

“And you didn’t think that maybe you should have bought me the same first class ticket as yours?”

“Hey, I told you they were sold out. Besides, you’re always talking about not spending money.” He motioned for Luke to get up. “I’m giving it to you. Take it. All the extra legroom you need.”

“Give me your hotel suite and we’ve got a deal.”

“No way. I have big plans for tomorrow night.”

“You do?” Luke folded the pamphlet and tucked it in the seat pocket. “Too bad you’ll be too exhausted since it looks like you won’t be getting any sleep. How many hours left? Ten? Eleven?”

Drew threw his hands up in the air. “Fine. The suite is yours. Lauren’s going to be pissed.” He motioned for Luke to get up. “Here, go up there now before someone sees us.”

“Okay, okay. I’m going. Sheesh.” Luke unbuckled his seatbelt and put on the blazer. The flight attendants would probably admonish both of them soon since the captain hadn’t turned off the fasten seatbelt sign. “What’s her name?”

“Who?”

“The woman you’re sitting next to, Casanova.”

“Crazy lady? I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Who cares?”

“You were always the sensitive one.” Luke gave his brother a sideways glance.

Drew sat down and buckled his seatbelt. “Thanks, bro, for taking one for the team.” He leaned his head back and shut his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Luke started to leave but Drew grabbed his arm.

“Oh, don’t ask her about her cats. Whatever you do, do not ask her about her freakin’ fur babies.”

Luke shook his head and made his way to first class. Since they were kids, Drew and he had played many swap-identity tricks on their parents, teachers, and girlfriends. Being identical had its advantages, particularly for his brother. In high school, they switched senior prom dates after Drew decided his odds of scoring with Luke’s date were greater than his own. Drew lost his virginity that night to Luke’s chagrin.

“Sir, please sit down.” A long-legged flight attendant ordered.

Luke flashed an apologetic smile and counted the rows to 3C. Perhaps, this unexpected seat swapping wouldn’t be so bad after all. The flight attendant was certainly pretty.

His hands gripped the back of the seats to steady his balance. He couldn’t blame the poor cat lady for being scared with all the rocking.

He crouched down, fully expecting to see a frightened middle-aged spinster dressed in black with grey cat hair all over her.

Wait a second? He glanced up to check that he had the right row. It was the right one, but sitting in 3A was a stunning woman who he guessed could be in her early thirties. The first thing he noticed was her long, wavy brown hair. He’d always had a thing for women with long, dark hair.

This was the vocal terrorist Drew couldn’t stand to sit with a minute longer? She wasn’t wearing black but a white dress and from what he could tell, her bronze legs might rival those of the flight attendant. Her hands were crunching a tomato juice can while she stared at the fasten seat belt sign. Two empty vodka bottles lay sideways on her folding tray table.

“Hi,” he said shyly, sitting down and buckling his seatbelt.

She whipped her head toward him, and her emerald green eyes immediately locked with his. “What took you so long?”

“The tail section broke off,” he joked. Judging by her reaction, he knew it was a bad one. “Kidding.” He touched her arm.

“I knew that.” She glanced at her watch and took a deep breath. “Ten hours and fifty-three minutes to go.”

“We’re practically ready to prepare for arrival.” He chuckled. “So, I’m Drew by the way.” The woman shot him a confused look. His brother must have already introduced himself. Figures Drew had told her his name but couldn’t remember hers. “I mean you know that already. How do you spell your name again? It’s so unusual.”

“K-a-t-e.”

Kate. Okay, not uncommon. He was going to murder his brother. Confessing that he was Drew’s twin was probably the right thing to do but she looked so terrified. He wouldn’t know how to explain that his idiot brother had begged him to trade seats. No, he’d continue the charade. It’s not like they were going to become friends or start dating. Harmless conversation with a stranger he’d most likely never see again was all this was.

He motioned for the flight attendant. “Would you care for another drink, Kate?” He reached for the crushed tomato juice can still in her hand. “Here, let me take that for you.” He noticed that her dress had a large red stain. “Accident?”

“Yep. An expensive one,” she said dryly. It was clear she didn’t want to talk about it.

“How about joining me in a glass of champagne?”

She shrugged. He took that as a yes.

A few minutes later, the flight attendant brought over two flutes. Luke handed one glass to Kate and raised his. “To bumpy flights with safe landings.” He chimed his glass rim to hers.

She took a sip and frowned.

“You don’t like it? I can get you something else. What would you like? Some coffee, perhaps?”

“No, it’s not that, I … um,” she stammered. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“You obviously drew the short stick by having to sit next to me.” She picked up one of the empty vodka bottles and turned it upside down. “I thought the first drink, or second, would loosen me up. Oh, well. Maybe this will do the trick.” She tilted the flute all the way back and finished it. “I hate flying.”

“So let’s get your mind off of it.” Luke moved his armrest up and then reached over. His arm brushed against the top of her dress as he shut the tiny window screen. What he wouldn’t give to run his hand underneath it.

Stop it, Luke. The poor woman’s having a nervous breakdown.

“How long will you be in Hawaii?” he asked.

“Three weeks. I’m going there for work.”

“Wow. I’d like your job.” He was happy to hear that this was a business trip and that she wasn’t meeting a lover, at least he hoped not. “Do you live in New York, Kate?”

“No, Los Angeles.”

Damn. She would live on the west coast. “Were you in New York for business?”

“No. I was visiting my mother to kick some — ” Her sentence broke off as the plane hit another air pocket. The airbus dropped down and bounced back up. Luke felt Kate’s seatbelt hit him followed by her weight crashing against his leg. She flung her arms around his khakis and hung on for dear life.

“First time flying,” he mouthed to the older couple sitting across from them. “Here,” he instructed, placing his arm on her back. He unleashed her hands from his leg, guiding her into his arms. “Hold on to me.” The scent of her perfume mixed with tomato juice and champagne infiltrated his nostrils. It was surprisingly arousing.

He stroked her hair. “It’s going to be fine. You know, pilots like to stay in the air.”

“Drew, I don’t want to die.” She clung to him, burying her head deeper into his chest.

He cringed at the mention of his brother. Should he confess to her that his name was Luke? Now didn’t seem like the best time. It would be easier to just continue pretending to be Drew.

He took a deep breath. “Nothing bad is going to happen. I promise you that. If I was worried, I wouldn’t — ” He paused for a few seconds. How was he going to calm her down and get her back into her seat?

She looked up at him. “Wouldn’t what?” Her fearful green eyes pleaded with him to make the rocking stop. His heart fell to his stomach and it wasn’t because of the turbulence. He didn’t know why, but he had an overwhelming need to protect her.

“Well, I wouldn’t do this.” He cupped her chin and brought her mouth to his. Her soft lips reacted to his. He deepened the kiss and their tongues moved in sync as the plane continued to sway. When he finally broke the kiss to check on her and catch his breath, he could see she was much more relaxed. “Better?”

She snuggled into his chest and wrapped her arms again around him. “Your heart’s beating fast.”

“Hmmm.” She was right. His heart was racing.

“Drew, I think I had too much to drink. Can you wake me when we land?”

Reclining his seat, he held her as she fell asleep. Who was this beautiful mystery woman in his arms? He smiled. Maybe pretending to be his twin brother would work out in his favor for once.

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Content

Christmas Dinner
by
Robyn Neeley

PROLOGUE

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

EPILOGUE

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