Free A Little Christmas Jingle by Michele Dunaway

tell me how much they love them. You?”
    â€œI don’t mind looking at Christmas lights,” Jack replied as they climbed the stairs. She had a shapely backside—temptation was mere inches away. All he had to do was reach up. … Instead he shoved his hands deeper into his jacket pockets as they reached the second-floor landing.
    He noted with a cop’s satisfaction that she had a second alarm that went off when they stepped into her kitchen. While she made quick work of the code, he assessed the area, committing to memory the Santa aprons hanging on pegs in her kitchen. “This way.”
    In her living room, an ornament-covered live tree stopped inches short of the nine-foot ceiling. Upon their approach, a Siamese cat rose to its feet, arched its back and blinked. Then it stretched and sat on the edge of the couch. “That’s Ty. He’s a sweetheart. Pippa’s around here somewhere, probably under the tree if she’s not up in it. Make yourself at home. I’ll only be a minute.”
    Jack approached Ty, who clearly waited for a head scratch. Jack’s phone buzzed; he grimaced at the caller ID. “Hi, Mom.”
    â€œJack. Saw you on the news a few minutes ago. How’s that poor puppy?”
    â€œDoing much better.”
    â€œThat’s good. Good. Did you get my e-mail?”
    He had, and promptly ignored it.
    â€œWe need to know if you’re bringing a date to your sister’s wedding,” his mother insisted. “If not, I have a solution.”
    Jack’s fingers tightened on his cell. “I’m in the middle of something. Can I call you tomorrow?”
    â€œWill you actually call me?”
    She knew him well. He didn’t/couldn’t forget—but he’d just get busy and hours would pass. “I’ll call the moment you get home from church. Still around noon?”
    â€œYes. Cecily and Brian are coming over at four and staying through dinner. We have a few more wedding details to finalize. You could stop by, you know. She’d love to see you. Why don’t you come? We’ve missed you lately. You could watch football with your father. The Rams are playing the Saints. Starts at three.”
    While he loved his stepsister, who’d been four when she’d become part of his family, the last thing he wanted was to listen to his mother and Cecily ramble on about the nuptials occurring in three weeks. He’d already been fitted for a tux. Now they were hounding him for his plus one.
    â€œI’m working tomorrow,” he told his mother, which wasn’t exactly a lie. He was always working.
    â€œIf you could try …”
    â€œI might be able make it around six,” he conceded.
    â€œWe’ll be eating by then and trimming the tree afterwards.”
    Which meant he’d be conned into helping his mother turn her house into an overboard winter wonderland. “I’ll see what I can do. But I will call you no matter what.”
    â€œYou better. We’re finishing the seating chart tomorrow, and I must have your answer by four thirty or I’m putting you next to Jane Moorhead. You remember Jane, right? She’s flying in from Stanford where she’s studying to be a lawyer. Pretty thing. Really blossomed from that girl you threw mud at in third grade. Could be the one for you. God knows Julie wasn’t.”
    Jack grew impatient. “Mom, you loved Julie up until she dumped me, and I really do have to go,” he said, for glittery round red ornaments were cascading from the Christmas tree and thudding onto the floor. He’d found Pippa, the longhaired calico kitten currently shaking the branches and testing the theory of gravity. “Love you!” he told his mom as he ended the call. He shoved his cell phone in his pocket and made a fast grab for the next ornament.
    â€œThey’re not glass,” Kat said behind him.
    â€œDidn’t think so but …” He