Free Christmas Dinner (Crimson Romance) by Robyn Neeley Page B

Mom.” Amanda gave her a quick peck on the cheek.
    Diane turned to Tate. “You must be the man my mother-in-law has been going on and on about meeting last night.”
    “Guilty as charged. I’m Tate. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Turner. Amanda has told me so much about you, but she failed to mention the source of her beautiful looks.”
    Diane chuckled. “Aren’t you a charmer. It’s nice to meet you, too. We’ve heard so . . . so little about you, but welcome. How did you sleep?”
    “Like a light.”
    “I bet you did. You and my daughter had quite an evening.” She raised her eyebrow at Amanda.
    Amanda shifted restlessly. “Mom!”
    Was he missing something?
    Amanda sat at the kitchen’s center island. “It was a long trip. We can recap it later. We’re looking forward to helping out today. Did I tell you Tate lived in Hammondsport when he was a kid?”
    “You didn’t really tell me anything about Tate, now did you?” Diane grinned. “Tate, does your family still live there?”
    “No, my mom and I moved away when I was thirteen.”.”
    “Well, it’s a lovely town. Can I get you some breakfast?”
    “Only if it’s not too much trouble, and I can help you later decorate those Christmas cookies you’re baking.” He pointed to the mixing bowl. “I could smell the batter as soon as I entered the kitchen. Say, do you put eggnog in your cookies by any chance?”
    Diane’s face lit up. “Why, yes. Yes, I do. Would you like a little sample?” She rummaged through the silverware drawer and pulled out a spoon. She scooped a large dollop of batter and handed it to Tate. “Not many people can guess that eggnog is my secret ingredient.”
    Tate closed his eyes and tasted the batter. He grinned. “Just like I remembered.” His gaze rested on Amanda. It wasn’t the first time he’d tasted Diane Turner’s cookies. A fact he longed to share with his co-anchor. He handed the spoon to Diane. “Amazing, thank you.”
    Diane patted his shoulder. “Amanda, why don’t you pour Tate a cup of coffee? Tate, did your mom use eggnog in her recipe?”
    “No, she wasn’t much of a baker.”
    “Where is she now?” Diane began to scoop the batter onto a cookie tray. “Is she disappointed you aren’t home this weekend?”
    “She died when I was sixteen.” He glanced over at Amanda, her face full of concern. His heart melted.
    “My dear boy. I’m so sorry. Pull up a stool and have some breakfast.”
    Tate watched Mrs. Turner bustle around, fixing him a plate. How could he share the story of his mom passing when those memories inevitably led back to these very Christmas cookies and Amanda?

CHAPTER EIGHT
    “Are you sure I can’t help you with those Christmas cookies, Mrs. Turner? Maybe roll out the batter for you?” Tate called from the foyer. He smirked at Amanda. “She loves me.”
    Diane poked her head out of the kitchen’s doorway. “No, no. Mr. Turner and Alex could use your help lifting the trees into the trucks. When you get back tonight, I’ll be sure there are cookies and warm cocoa waiting for you.”
    “I can’t wait,” Tate said.
    Diane pointed to Amanda. “Dear, go introduce Tate to your father and then come help me welcome the volunteers. We’ll be loading the decorations soon.”
    “Sure thing, Mom.”
    “Chop, chop. We’ve got lots of families to visit.” Diane clapped her hands and disappeared.
    Amanda pulled out their jackets from the closet. She was thinking about the conversation Tate just had with her mother. He had lost his mother at an early age. And where was his father? She shouldn’t have teased him yesterday that his family didn’t invite him home for Christmas.
    “Here you go.” She handed him his jacket.
    “Thanks.” He yanked his zipper halfway up.
    “Say, um . . . I’m sorry to hear about your mom.” She looked at him and then down at her Uggs. She was never good at these kinds of conversations.
    “It was a long time ago. It’s just—those cookies