Robyn Neeley - Christmas Dinner

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.

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 . . .