Free The Manning Grooms by Debbie Macomber Page A

can’t thank you enough. For saving Higgins. The dog.”
    Again Jason said nothing.
    “Jason,” she whispered. “Don’t look at me like that.”
    “Like what?”
    “Like you want to kiss me again.”
    “I do.” He wasn’t going to lie about it.
    He saw that her hand was shaking as she opened the car door and climbed out. She seemed eager to make her escape now.
    “Good night,” she said with obvious false cheer.
    “Little coward,” Jason muttered under his breath, amused. “Saturday morning!” he shouted after her.
    “What time?” She turned to face him again.
    “Nine-thirty. Is that too early?”
    “I’ll be ready.”
    “I’ll call you in the morning about Higgins.”
    “Please,” she said, her eyes widening as though she’d momentarily forgotten the dog. “Oh, please do.” She snapped open her purse and withdrew a business card, walking toward him now. “This is my number at the office. I’ll be there after nine.”
    “Then I’ll phone at nine.”
    “’Night.”
    “’Night,” he echoed, returning to his apartment.
    He wasn’t there more than five minutes when his doorbell chimed. He certainly wasn’t in the mood for company, but as the building owner and manager, he couldn’t very well ignore a visitor.
    He opened his door to discover Carrie standing onthe other side, a covered plastic bowl in her hand. “These are for you.”
    He accepted the container with a puzzled frown.
    “Mom asked me to bring you some chocolate chip cookies,” she said, grinning broadly.

Five
    “M om, you look fine.”
    “I don’t look fine…I look wretched,” Charlotte insisted, viewing her backside in the hallway mirror. She must’ve been mad to let Carrie talk her into buying jeans. Fashionably faded jeans, no less. Not only had she plunked down ninety bucks for the pair, they looked as if they’d spent the past ten years in someone’s attic.
    “You’re acting like a little kid,” Carrie said, slapping her hands against her sides in disgust. “We’re going to a softball game, not the senior prom.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me my thighs are so…round?” Charlotte cried in despair. “No woman wants to be seen in pants that make her legs look like hot dogs. I’m not going anywhere.”
    Carrie just rolled her eyes.
    “Call Jason,” Charlotte told her daughter. “Tell him…anything. Make up some excuse.”
    “You can’t be serious.”
    “Please do as I say.”
    “Mom?”
    “We’re meeting his family, ” Charlotte cried. “I can’t meet his brothers and sisters-in-law looking like this.”
    “Change clothes, then, if you’re so self-conscious.”
    As though she had anything to change into. Charlotte’s wardrobe was limited to business suits and sweatpants. There was no in-between. She couldn’t afford to clothe both of them in expensive jeans. But after Jason had invited her out for today, she’d allowed Carrie to talk her into a shopping spree. Thank heaven for Visa. And thank heaven for Jason’s generosity; he’d refused to accept any payment for the dog’s care.
    “I’m not calling Jason!” Carrie crossed her arms righteously. The girl had a streak of stubbornness a mile wide, and Charlotte had collided with it more than once.
    Defeated, Charlotte muttered under her breath and fled to her room, sitting on the end of her bed. Before the shopping trip, she’d managed to put today’s plans out of her mind and focus her attention on Higgins. Then the softball game had turned into the better part of a day, including a picnic, involving most of his family.
    “Mom,” Carrie said, approaching her carefully. “What’s wrong?”
    Charlotte shrugged, not sure how to explain her nervousness. “I wish I’d never agreed to this.”
    “But why?” Carrie wanted to know. “I’ve been looking forward to it all week. Just think of all the babysittingprospects. Jason’s family is a potential gold mine for me.” Carrie sat on the bed beside Charlotte. “We’re going,