Marry-Me Christmas by Shirley Jump Read Free Book Online

coat as she waited for Sam to finish putting away the cleaning products, “I think it’s time you tried the cranberry orange bread. The frosted loaf, not the plain one. I haven’t met a person yet that didn’t rave about it.”
    Sam let out a breath, relieved Ginny hadn’t suggested sweetening him up with a date, or something else Sam definitely didn’t have time or room in her life for. “Okay. I’ll bring some over to Betsy’s in the morning. Try to sweeten him up.”
    “And wear your hair up. Put in your hoop earrings, and for God’s sake,” Aunt Ginny added, wagging a finger, “wear some lipstick.”
    “Ginny, this isn’t a beauty contest, it’s an interview.”
    Ginny grinned. “I didn’t get to this age without learning a thing or two about men. And if there’s one thing I know, it’s to use your assets, Sam,” she said, shutting off the lights and closing the shop but not the subject, “every last one.”
     
    Flynn woke up in a bad mood.
    He flipped open his cell phone, prayed for at least one signal bar, and got none. Moved around the frilly room, over to the lace-curtained window, still nothing. Pushing aside a trio of chubby Santas on the sill, Flynn opened the window, stuck the phone outside as far as his arm would reach and still had zero signal. Where was he? Mars? Soon as he got back to Boston, he was switching wireless carriers. Apparently this one’s promise of service “anywhere” didn’t include small Indiana towns in the middle of nowhere.
    Flynn gave up on his cell phone, got dressed and went downstairs. The scent of freshly brewed coffee drew him like a dog to a bone, pulling him along, straight to the dining room. Several guests sat at one long table, chatting among themselves. Swags of pine ran down the center, punctuated by fat pinecones, puffy stuffed snowmen with goofy grins, unlit red pillar candles. A platoon of Santa plates had been joined by an army of snowman coffee mugs and a cavalry of snowflake-handled silverware. The Christmas invasion had flooded the table, leaving no survivors of ordinary life.
    He’d walked into the North Pole. Any minute, he expected dancing elves to serve the muffins.
    “Good morning, good morning!” Betsy came jingle-jangling out of the kitchen, her arms wide again. Did the woman have some kind of congenital disease that kept her limbs from hanging at her sides?
    “Coffee?” he asked. Pleaded, really.
    “On the sideboard. Fresh and hot! Do you want me to get you a cup?”
    “I’ll help myself. Thanks.” He walked over to the poinsettia-ringed carafe, filled a Mrs. Claus mug, then sipped deeply. It took a few minutes for the caffeine to hit his brain.
    “I don’t know what your travel plans are, but the plows are just now getting to work, and the Indianapolis airport is closed for a couple more hours. They’re predicting more snow. I’m so excited. It’ll be a white Christmas, for sure!” Betsy applauded the joyful news.
    “Thank you for the update.” A little snow wouldn’t stop him from getting the story out of Samantha Barnett. It might delay his trip down to southern Indiana, but the job—
    Nothing delayed the job.
    “No problem. It’s just one of the many services I provide for my customers. No tip necessary.” She beamed. “Oh, and Mr. MacGregor, we’ll be singing Christmas carols in the parlor after breakfast, if you’d like to join us.”
    He’d rather do anything but that. “Uh, no. I—”
    The front door opened. Flynn turned. Samantha Barnett, her arms loaded with boxes, entered the house. Excellent timing. Flynn hurried forward, taking the top few from her.
    “Thanks. I thought I might lose those.” She flashed him a smile that slammed into Flynn with more force than the caffeine’s punch.
    He told himself it didn’t matter, that it hadn’t affected him at all. Instead, he put on the friendly face that had won over many an interview subject. “It’s not often that I get to come to the rescue of