Read Online Her Mistletoe Cowboy by Alissa Callen - Free Book Online Page B

was no reason to now change her routine and seek him out. Even if she had enjoyed her visit to the Santa’s Workshop and being a part of the close-knit community her family had once belonged to. She had to keep her physical distance. Nowhere on her list to get herself together was opening the door to more hurt. She was here to mend her heart, and get her life back on track, not to make an unplanned detour by falling for her cowboy neighbor.
    Yet when she’d seen Payton’s hand on his arm she’d been hit by such a bolt of envy she’d had to end her conversation with Henry and go to Rhett’s side. To her relief his smile for Payton had only contained friendship and the warmth in Payton’s voice when she mentioned Cordell’s name, confirmed nothing but a platonic companionship existed between Rhett and the pretty cowgirl.
    The sound of hammering coming from within the barn had her change direction. She really did need to see him. She wanted to make sure he was okay about being railroaded into holding a bonfire. Her checking in on him was the least she could do after him looking out for her last night.
    When Carol Bingley had given her the tenth degree about who she was and why she was in Marietta for Christmas, all the while Rhett had stood a short distance away, talking to another cowboy. Ivy had known all she had to do was to look his way and he’d have extricated her from Carol’s clutches. Even if she could more than handle Carol, it was touching to know Rhett had been there for her.
    Ivy tipped her head back to examine the barn wall as she approached. Once painted red, the wood was now a mix of original timbers and unpainted planks creating a patchwork effect. No wonder Rhett was busy. Repairing even this single side of the barn would be a mammoth task. She pushed open the heavy doors, designed to allow a wagon to enter, and stepped into history.
    Years of damage and decay shrouded the interior in dust and cobwebs but she gazed around as if she were entering the marble foyer of an Atlanta mansion.
    This was the building where her grandfather had tended his milking cow. This was the building where the grey pony he’d learned to ride on had been stabled. Heart full, she swung around to face the doors still open behind her.
    Holding her breath, she examined the scarred wood until she found what she was looking for. Two thin initials were carved into the right door. She set the shortbread container on the floorboards, peeled off her gloves and ran her fingers over her grandfather’s initials.
    “Ivy?”
    She stiffened. She’d forgotten Rhett was in the barn.
    “Sorry.” She slowly turned. “I didn’t mean to trespass. I heard you over here and wanted to bring you the shortbread.” Throat tight, she glanced at the initials. “When I walked in, I remembered my grandfather’s stories. Especially the tale about how he’d played with kittens in the hayloft and became snowed in. While he waited for his father to dig away the snow drift from the door, he carved his initials.”
    Rhett leaned in close to examine the childish ‘P B’. “That’s really special, Ivy.”
    She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. It wasn’t only emotion Rhett would hear in her breathless voice. He was so close she could smell the clean scent of soap and see the vivid blue of his eyes. She bent to collect the shortbread and to put some much needed space between them.
    “If it’s okay can I come back later and take a picture?” she asked.
    “Of course.” Rhett ran a hand over his chin. “Ivy, this ranch is as much yours as it is mine. Please feel free to have a look around anytime. It’s a shame the snow’s so deep as there are many reminders of your family I could show you. There’s a young child’s grave in the foothills and over near where the creek narrows, grass never grows in the old wagon ruts.”
    “Thanks, I’d love to take a look around. There’s also supposed to be a line cabin my grandfather used to camp in