“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?