Marry-Me Christmas by Shirley Jump Read Free Book Online Page A

baked goods. Or that they come to mine.”
    “My goodness, Mr. MacGregor. Did you just make a joke? Because I didn’t think you had it in you.” Samantha paused in laying the boxes on a small table in the dining room. “Sorry. Sometimes my mouth gets ahead of my brain.”
    Betsy handed Samantha a set of serving platters, but didn’t linger to chat, because one of the guests called her over to ask her a question about local events.
    “It’s this town,” Flynn said after Betsy was gone, keeping his voice low, lest she overhear and come back to argue. “It’s like bad lighting on an actress. It brings out the worst in me.”
    Samantha bristled. “Riverbend? It’s not perfect, but I can’t imagine why anyone would hate it. You really should give this place a chance before you condemn it. You never know, it might grow on you.”
    “So do skin rashes.”
    “You are Scrooge,” she whispered. “Don’t let Betsy hear you say that. People around here are proud of their town.”
    “I know. She’s been trying to recruit me for the caroling crew all morning.”
    Samantha gave him a nonchalant shrug. “It might do you some good. Infuse you with some Christmas cheer.”
    Flynn let that subject drop. Infusing wasn’t on his menu. He didn’t settle in, didn’t get to know the locals. Of course, once he came in and ripped apart the local steakhouse in the pages of Food Lovers , he wasn’t exactly invited back for tea anyway. “You know, there’s a big world out there that offers a lot of great things like civilization , Internet connections, cellular towers, reliable public transportation. All without paying the price of Christmas carols in the parlor.”
    Samantha placed the last of the baked goods on the platters and let out a long sigh. “All my life I’ve dreamed of seeing that world, but…”
    “This bakery is as binding as a straightjacket.” He’d written that story a hundred times. Shop owners complaining about how small-business life drained them, yet they stayed in the field.
    But he understood them. He might not be braising roasts or reducing sauces, but he knew the spirit that drove entrepreneurs. That hunger to climb your own way to the top. To be the only one who fueled success. It didn’t matter what it took—long hours, financial worries, constant demands—to make it from the bottom to the top of the food chain.
    Because he had done it himself, and his climb had paid off handsomely. Flynn had become known as the top writer for the food industry and his ambition had created a career that allowed him to call his own shots. Because he was the one that got the story, no matter what it took. No matter how many hours, how many weekends, how many holidays.
    He remained unencumbered, without so much as a mortgage, a wife, kids. And though he may have lost his footing this summer—that was a temporary setback. He’d be back on top, after this piece.
    “It’s not just that the bakery keeps me tied down,” Samantha said. “I have other reasons for staying here.”
    Her tone, almost melancholy, drew him. He could hear the scoop underlying the words, note them like a bloodhound on the trail of a robber. “Like what?”
    She quickly pulled herself together. “You’re interviewing me about Joyful Creations, Mr. MacGregor, not my personal life.” A smile crossed her face, but it was one that had a clear No Trespassing sign. “Let’s stick to that, okay?”
    “Certainly. Business only, that’s the way I like things, too.”
    Except…she’d intrigued him with the way she’d shut that door so firmly. Most people Flynn interviewed spilled their guts as easily as a two-year-old with an overfilled cup of milk. Samantha Barnett clearly wouldn’t be letting a single drop spill.
    And he wouldn’t let a drop of sympathy spill, either. He refused to fall for whatever had brought that wisp of emotion to her eyes. To let her move past his reporter curiosity.
    Except…a part of him did wonder about the