Robyn Neeley - Christmas Dinner

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.”

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?”