Deciding to skip dessert, they left the restaurant an hour after they’d arrived. The night was cold and moonless, with powdery snowflakes blowing on the wind. Still damp from the wine spill, Megan huddled into her coat as Conner walked her to the Jeep and offered an arm to help her inside.

He didn’t say much until they were back on the highway, headed south to Branding Iron. “I’m sorry,” he said. “This isn’t how I wanted our evening to turn out. If I’d known Ronda May was working at that restaurant, I’d have made different plans.”

“It might have saved me from a wine dousing. But it wouldn’t have changed anything else,” Megan said. “She made it clear to me that she wants you back. She even warned me not to get in her way. Sooner or later, you were bound to hear from her.”

“Listen to me, Megan. Ronda May isn’t calling the shots. Whatever we had, it’s over and done with. I was happy when she found somebody else.” He drove in silence for a few moments. “You’re not saying anything. Don’t you believe me?”

“It doesn’t matter whether I believe you or not,” Megan said. “This issue is between you and Ronda May, and I can’t be part of it. Whatever the two of you decide, I need to back off until it’s settled. I hope that makes sense to you.”

“Damn it, there’s nothing to settle. We broke up. It’s over.”

“Not according to Ronda May.” Megan took a deep breath, wishing she could erase tonight from her memory, as if it had never happened—wishing they could start over, have a wonderful evening, and maybe even fall in love. But that was not to be.

“You know I’m right,” she said. “You need to resolve this. And we can’t be together again until you do. Now take me home.”

They were coming into Branding Iron. Conner turned off the highway, onto Main Street. The Christmas lights glowed overhead, but the magic seemed to have gone out of them.

“I hope you know that I didn’t want tonight to end this way,” he said as he turned onto her street.

“If it’s any consolation, neither did I.” Megan unbuckled her seat belt as he pulled the Jeep into her driveway. “Don’t call me until you’ve settled things—one way or another. And I won’t be calling you. Good night, Conner. No need to walk me to the porch.”

As he braked, she opened the door, climbed out before he could help her, and strode, head down, toward the house. Conner didn’t go after her. But he waited, headlights on, as she mounted the porch. Only when he could see that she had the front door safely open did he back into the street and drive away.

* * *

Megan walked in to find her family sitting in the living room, watching a Christmas special on TV. Her mother gave her a startled look. “You’re home early, dear. And, oh, my, what on earth happened to your clothes?”