Christmas Dinner (Crimson Romance) (4 page)

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.

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.