Her Mistletoe Cowboy by Alissa Callen Read Free Book Online

base of his stiff neck. This was Ivy’s third gift-bearing trip and he was yet to see her to say thank you. Sure he’d been busy repairing the barn but that was no excuse for his bad manners or for letting three days pass.
    He withheld a sigh, snapped open the container lid and took out the top star-shaped gingerbread. Upon hearing the clip of Rusty’s nails on the floor he broke the gingerbread into two.
    “We can’t get used to this, Rusty. Ivy is here to cook and to lay low and then you and I will be back to eating store-bought snacks that taste like cardboard.”
    He shared the sweet gingerbread with a tail-wagging Rusty before retracing his steps to the mudroom. He was going to see Ivy now. Before he got busy again. He swallowed as he buttoned his sheepskin coat. And before he lost his nerve.
    He stepped outside into the mid-morning chill. Fresh snow had fallen overnight and dusted the ranch landscape in white. The scene reminded him of the sugar-powdered gingerbread brownie that had been Ivy’s first delivery. His feet dragged as he headed toward the main ranch house.
    It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know the real reason behind finding any excuse not to see Ivy. Even if he did have a neighborly and family obligation to check in on her, after their trip to Marietta his self-preservation had hit the panic button. It was official. He was distracted.
    The hours he lay awake thinking about her and the time he wasted stopping work in the barn to peer through the door to catch a distant glimpse of her, diluted his focus. It was as though she was already an addiction and to beat it he had to go cold turkey.
    When he’d helped fasten her seat belt, he was sure she would have heard the grinding of his teeth as he’d fought for control. His brushing of her hand hadn’t been intentional, but tell that to his testosterone. The charge from their brief touch still ricocheted through his senses. All he could do now was to implement damage control. He would honor his obligations and do the right thing but keep all contact to the bare minimum.
    Snow crunched underfoot as he walked to the front door but the only sound he registered was the pounding of his heart. Even when balanced on 2000 pounds of rodeo bull, he’d never felt so nervous. He’d thank Ivy for her Christmas deliveries, see if she needed anything and hightail it to the barn.
    He knocked on the door and jammed his hands into his jacket pockets. No footsteps sounded in the foyer. He braced himself and knocked again. This time he heard steps followed by a thump. He turned the handle.
    The door flew open but it wasn’t Ivy on the other side. Instead a tiny white and tan body pushed past his boots, a length of red tinsel hanging from the pup’s mouth. He just managed to catch Milly before she reached the top porch step.
    “Don’t even think about it,” he said as she let go of the tinsel, which fell into the snow, and attempted to bite the wool on his sheepskin coat collar. He tucked the puppy under his arm, well away from the soft fleece.
    “I told you she’d like your coat,” Ivy said from the doorway her hands on her hips and her chest beneath her long grey sweater rising and falling. She drew a deep breath. “I need to get fitter so she can’t outrun me.”
    He nodded as he drank her in. Unfit was the last term he’d use to describe the woman in front of him. Tousled hair fell around her flushed face calling for him to run his hands through the silken strands. Her thick-lashed hazel eyes sparkled with laughter. And while her oversized sweater hem reached her denim-clad thighs, the knitted fabric was fitted enough to reveal her curves.
    His self-preservation had a meltdown.
    She moved away from the doorway. “Coming in?’
    He handed her first the tinsel and then Milly so the pup wouldn’t have a chance to latch onto the red garland. “No, I’d better not. I want to split some firewood before lunch. Speaking of which how are you going for