Marry-Me Christmas Read Online Free PDF Page A

want to know about it. Just point me in the general direction.”
    Thirty seconds later, Flynn was back outside, battling an increasingly more powerful wind. The snow had multiplied and six more inches of the thick wet stuff now coated the sidewalks. The earlier tourist crowds had apparently gotten the hint and left for their hotels or real cities. Traffic, what there was left in Riverbend, had slowed to a crawl. Within minutes, the damp snow had seeped through Flynn’s shoes and he was slogging through slush, ruining five-hundred-dollar dress shoes. Damn it. What he wouldn’t do for a sled dog team right now.
    “Do you need a ride?”
    He turned to see Samantha Barnett at the wheel of an older model Jeep Cherokee. Or what he thought was Samantha Barnett. She was bundled in a blue parka-type jacket that obscured most of her delicate features, the hood covering all of her blond hair. But the smile—that 100-watt smile he’d seen earlier in the bakery—that he could see.
    Only a fool would say no to that. And to the dry, warm vehicle.
    “Sure.” He opened the door and climbed inside. Holiday music pumped from the stereo, filling the interior of the Jeep like stuffing in a turkey. Again, Flynn got that Norman Rockwell feeling. “Is this town for real?” he asked as Sam put the Jeep in gear and they passed yet another decorated window display—this one complete with a moving Santa’s workshop.
    “What do you mean?”
    “It’s a bit too jolly, don’t you think? I mean, it’s almost nauseating.”
    “Nauseating? It’s Christmas. People are feeling…festive.”
    “Festive? In this?” He gestured out the window. “My feet are soaked, nearly frostbitten, I’m sure. My car is being worked on by the village idiot, I’m on a deadline that I can’t miss and I’m being held hostage in a town that thinks Christmas is the be-all and end-all.”
    “Well, isn’t it?”
    “There are three hundred and sixty-four other days in the year, you know.”
    Sam stared at him. Never before had she met anyone with as little Christmas spirit as Flynn MacGregor. “Don’t you celebrate Christmas? Put up a tree? Drink a little eggnog?”
    Flynn didn’t answer. Instead he glanced out the window. “Do you know a place called Betsy’s Bed and Breakfast?”
    “Of course I do. It’s a small town. Everyone knows everyone else, and everything. You burn your toast in the morning and Mrs. Beedleman over on Oak Street is on your doorstep, lending you her toaster before lunch.” Sam smiled. “I’m on my way to make a couple of deliveries, so I have time. Besides, driving you to Betsy’s is the least I can do to say I’m sorry for being so short with you earlier.” She took a left, using caution as she made the turn and navigated through the downtown intersection. “I guess I’m just a little protective when it comes to the bakery.”
    “Most business owners are.” He kept watching out the window. “Is that a live reindeer I see in the park? This town is Christmas gone overboard.”
    She turned to him. “You’re kind of grumpy, aren’t you? This whole anti-Christmas thing, the way you jumped on me about my business…Grumpy.”
    He sat back. “No. Just…honest.”
    She shrugged. “I call it grumpy.”
    “Honest. Direct. To the point.”
    She flashed another glance his way. “You know who else was grumpy? Ebenezer Scrooge. Remember him? He got a pretty bad preview of his future.”
    Flynn rolled his eyes. “That was fiction. I’m talking real life.”
    “Uh-huh. Let me know when the ghost of Christmas Future comes knocking on your door.”
    “When he does, I’ll know it’s time to put away the scotch.”
    Samantha laughed. Her laughter had a light, musical sound to it. Like the holiday carols coming from the stereo. Flynn tried hard not to like the sound, but…
    He did.
    “Listen, you had a rough day,” Sam said, “so you’re excused for any and all grumpiness. And don’t worry, you’re in good hands with