Read Online Home For Christmas (A Copper Mountain Christmas) by Melissa Mcclone - Free Book Online Page B

was not involved today."
    "Maybe not, but I do know one thing that was lucky."
    "What?" he asked.
    "Meeting you." She lifted her glass in the air.
    He tapped his against hers. A chime lingered in the air. "I feel the same way about meeting you."
    "I know I said I didn't want any help, but thank you." Her gaze met his, making him feel unworthy of such appreciation. "Whether orders pour in or not, I put myself out there and gave it my best shot."
    "You did." Something passed between them. A connection, an invisible thread. He should look away, but he didn't, couldn't. "As I said this afternoon, today's only the beginning."
    The lines above her nose, ones that had been absent most of the day, returned.
    Damn. He didn't want her to go all flashing-yellow-caution on him. "Remember the Christmas tree farm this weekend."
    "Oh, right."
    But she didn't feel right. He could see it in the lines around her mouth, her cloudy gaze and her rigid posture.
    Maybe he could get her to lower her guard. "What we did today was only one idea."
    Rachel's chin tilted. "You have more?"
    "Lots more." He took a sip of his beer. "If you're game…"
    She scooted back in her chair. Pressed her lips together. Shut down. "Let's see how much business I get from the order forms and tree farm first."
    "Sure." He had his work cut out breaking through her cautious firewall. "But one of these days, Rachel, you're going to want to leap. I plan on being around to see it."
    "Don't hold your breath."
    "I won't."
    But Nate didn't think he'd have long to wait.
    Once Rachel recovered her confidence, he knew she would fly.

     
     
    CHAPTER FIVE
     
     
    Saturday at the Carson Tree Farm, Rachel watched tiny snowflakes fall from the sky, the humble beginning of a massive winter storm forecasted to hit the mountains of Montana this week. A steady stream of cars, trucks and SUVs brought those on their annual Christmas tree pilgrimage. Children ran, laughing and kicking up snow. Carolers sang, taking requests and encouraging everyone to join in.
    Merry Christmas, Copper Mountain.
    She stood underneath the pop-tent, hands dry and toasty, waiting for a customer to decide if they wanted cookies or a gingerbread house. Garland decorated with candy canes and gingerbread ornaments hung from the edges of the canopy. Red tablecloths covered the tables that held her gingerbread houses and cookies.
    Surrounded by pine trees and delicate snowflakes, Rachel felt more holiday spirit than she ever had in Phoenix. But the change in scenery didn't explain her happiness. This Christmas was going to be the best since she was a kid, not because of her gingerbread's popularity or the beautiful mountain location or the song-worthy wintry weather, but because of the people who lived in and around Marietta. The hellos and hugs from the customers bumping into friends and family looking at trees touched her heart.
    Life in a small town.
    Rachel hadn't expected such joy in the air and on faces today. No matter where she looked, she was surrounded by Christmas and she loved every single minute.
    Back home in Phoenix, houses and apartment balconies would be decorated with lights and stockings hung. But she didn't remember the last time she'd talked with a neighbor. She had friends, the kind to grab a drink after work, but not the kind who would notice her gloves were soaked.
    Or buy her pretty new ones to wear today.
    "We'd like a dozen cookies." A twenty-something woman handed over cash. A sleeping toddler, a girl, based on the pink snowsuit, slept against the woman's shoulder. A little boy in blue tugged at her pants. "Six angels and six men. A do-it-yourself kit, too."
    Rachel gave the woman her change. "I'll box the cookies. It'll just take a minute."
    "While you do that, we're going to grab a hot chocolate." Scooping up the toddler with impressive grace, the woman walked to the end of the line at Sage Carrigan's hot chocolate booth. The mom would need help juggling the cups and the gingerbread