Holiday Serenade, The by Ava Miles Read Free Book Online

about putting mistletoe up, but one, you never come here, and two, even if you did, I don’t want you to use mistletoe as an excuse when you finally ask me to touch you again.”
    That revelation shook her to the core.
    “Let me take your coat,” he said, moving behind her, his Southern manners on display.
    She could feel the heat from his body, sense his tall, strong frame. When they were this close, she barely reached his collarbone. She elbowed him accidentally as she shrugged out of her coat.
    “No need for anyone to get hurt,” he murmured.
    Right. Like that hadn’t happened already. They were both hurting, although for different reasons.
    His hands brushed the back of her neck, startling her. It had been so long since he’d given her an intimate touch, even if this one was purely G–rated.
    “You smell good,” he mused. “Like always. When I was overseas, I bought some Chanel Cristalle in your honor. Sometimes when I was missing you, I would just spray it in my hotel room and close my eyes and imagine you were with me. I looked the perfume up online, actually, and one review called it a beautiful, cold stranger. It seemed pretty on point to me.”
    Isn’t that why she’d chosen it? She wanted to be well groomed but aloof, but hearing his confession made her want to hang her head in shame.
    And then her mind tracked back to the pink pearls he’d given her, the ones he’d bought for her last Christmas, never expecting to give to her.
    She’d never been far from his thoughts, and the knowledge was as sweet as Christmas plum pudding.
    Which reminded her. She hadn’t thanked him for the present. “Rhett, I wanted to say how beautiful the pink pearls are. Thank you.”
    He just stared at her quietly for a moment. “I’m glad you like them. Let’s sit by the fire,” he said, hanging her coat in the closet.
    She handed him her gloves, scarf, and hat, and after he put them away, they walked into the den together. With its tall, timbered ceilings and open spaces, the mountain cabin was more like a ski chalet. She’d only been here once before to drop Dustin off to hang out with Rhett. Usually Dustin drove himself, but he’d been grounded at the time. Plus, her curiosity had gotten the better of her.
    The only difference in the decor was the twenty–foot Christmas tree garlanded with silver and gold ornaments and white lights, which was tucked against the back windows. The brown leather sofa and loveseat, earth–tone Mission rugs, and Western art were all as she remembered.
    “Do you want some tea? Or do we need something stronger for this discussion?” he asked, his hand curved around the wooden beam that served as the demarcation point between the kitchen and the den.
    “Tea would be fine,” she replied, folding her hands into prayer position so she wouldn’t feel so weird standing in his space.
    Then she turned and spotted the gigantic TV on the wall. A poker tournament was on the screen, the action paused. “What are you doing with a tourney on?” she asked. She hadn’t heard about any major tourneys, and Mac usually told her about such things.
    “Watching tape,” he called out.
    Of course. Mac put his hours in studying players in old tournaments too.
    She wandered into the kitchen. Rhett’s big hands covered a silver tea kettle, making her think he could crush it with one squeeze. He was so big and strong. Funny how his size had always made her feel sexy and cherished, especially since her first experience with sex had been getting date raped by Dustin’s father.
    She hadn’t been with anyone else until Rhett… For years, sex just hadn’t interested her; deep down, she’d worried that she would have a flashback or something, that a big, strong man would scare her. But she and Rhett had known each other forever. He’d gotten into a few tussles, sure, but she’d never known him to be a violent man. And whenever he came to visit her, Mac, and Dustin—always with a gift for her