Marry-Me Christmas by Shirley Jump Page A

she’d given up on a long time ago. The life she’d wished she could have had, and had put on hold for so long, it had slipped through her fingers. Maybe then—
    Maybe then she’d find peace.
    Flynn picked up his menu and studied the two pages of offerings. “And where do you fit into that equation?”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “Exactly what I said.” His voice was slightly muffled by the vinyl-bound menu.
    “You mean, free time for me?”
    Flynn put the menu down. “From what I’ve heard around town, you’re not exactly…the social butterfly. You work. And you work. And you work . You’re like a squirrel providing for a never-ending winter.”
    “You write for this industry. Of everyone, you should know how demanding a bakery can be.”
    “That’s what the classified ads are for. To hire people to bake.”
    “People around here,” Sam began, then lowered her voice, realizing how many of those very people were situated right beside her, “expect the baked goods to be made by a family member. Third generation, and all that.”
    He scoffed. “Oh come on. In this age of automation, you don’t actually think that everyone believes you’re truly popping on every last gumdrop button?”
    She stared at him, as if he was insane. “But I do.”
    “Who is going to know if you do it, or a monkey from the zoo does?” Flynn asked.
    “Well…I will, for one.”
    “And the harm in that is…?” He put out his hands. “You might actually have some free time to see a movie? Go out on a date? Have a life?”
    She shifted in her chair. His words sprung like tiny darts, hitting at the very issues Sam did her best to avoid. “I have a life.”
    Flynn arched a brow. “You want me to write the story for you? Young, ambitious restaurateur, or in your case—” he waved a hand in her direction “—baker, goes into the business thinking she’ll be different .” He put special emphasis on the last word, tainting it with disgust.
    “My circumstances were different.”
    But Flynn went on, as if he hadn’t even heard her. “She thinks she’ll find a way to balance having an outside life with work. That she’ll be the one to learn from her peers, to balance the business with reality. That she, and only she, can find the secret to rocketing to the top while still holding on to some semblance of normality.” He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table. “Am I close?”
    “No.” The lie whistled through her lips.
    “Listen, I admire your dedication, I really do. But let me save you the peek at the ending. You won’t end up any different than anyone else. You’ll look back five, ten, twenty years from now, and think ‘where the hell did my life go?’”
    “Who made you judge and jury over me?” Sam’s grip curled around her water glass, the temptation to throw the beverage in his face growing by the second. “I’m doing what I have to do.”
    “Do you?”
    “What?”
    “Have to?”
    His piercing gaze seemed to ask the very questions she never did. The ones that plagued her late at night when she was alone in the house her grandmother used to own, pacing the floors, wondering…
    What if.
    Before she had to come up with an answer, the waitress returned, introduced herself as Holli with an i and took out a notepad. “What can I get you?”
    “Lasagna with extra sauce on the side,” Sam said, grateful for the change in subject.
    “I’ll have the same.” Flynn handed his menu to Holli, who gave each of them a perky smile before heading to the kitchen. “Enough of me giving you the ugly truth about your future. I’m not here to play psychic.”
    “And I’m not asking for your advice.”
    “True.” A grin quirked up one side of his mouth. “I get the feeling you’re not the kind of person who would take my advice, even if I gave it.”
    His smile was contagious, and she found herself answering with one of her own. He had charm, she had to give him that. Grudgingly. “I