Robyn Neeley - Christmas Dinner

“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.