Her Mistletoe Cowboy (4 page)

Milly wriggled in his grasp and latched her teeth onto the sleeve of the long-sleeved navy T-shirt he’d thrown on with black sweat pants. He hesitated and headed toward the doorway.

By her own admission, Ivy needed time and space to regroup. She might be tough but right now she was also a vulnerable woman in emotional pain. So the best thing for both of them was to make sure once she was settled in the main ranch house their lives intersected as little as possible.

He entered the kitchen and stopped. Ivy sat sideways at the table, her jeans-clad legs bent as she rested her candy cane socked feet on the adjacent chair. Her hair was pulled into a messy high ponytail, a pale green sweater covered her curves and a notebook sat open on her lap. She glanced up from feeding Rusty small pieces of French toast from her plate and smiled.

He didn’t know if it was the beauty of her smile or the battle between his self-preservation to run and his testosterone to stay, but he took his attention off Milly and she sank her needle-sharp teeth into his palm.

Ivy shuddered. “Now that’s got to hurt.”

Biting back a string of words only fit for a rodeo, he managed a nod, and disengaged his hand from Milly’s mouth. As soon as he lowered her to the floor she scooted over to chase Rusty’s tail. The good-natured Australian Shepherd sighed and sank to the floor to play.

Rhett shook his hand to dull the sting. “Good luck with your shoes. Milly’s teeth could shred an iron horseshoe.”

Ivy grimaced. “Is now a good time to tell you I owe you a dishcloth? The one hanging on the cupboard is now in shreds.”

“That explains what I trod on last night.” He examined his tooth-marked palm. “I wondered what she’d gotten hold of.”

“Now you know. Thankfully the mudroom door is closed as I’m sure she’d love to also sink her teeth into your soft sheepskin coat.” Ivy placed her book on the table and came to her feet to collect a foil-covered plate from off the bench. “Here, Rusty and I saved you some. French toast cures everything.”

He took the plate with a wry smile. “Kendall says the same thing about chocolate.”

Ivy smiled and resumed her seat. “Chocolate works too but you hardly have any food in your pantry let alone anything that resembles comfort food.”

He rummaged in a drawer for cutlery and joined her at the table.

“That reminds me.” He pulled out a chair. “I need to get to town and food shop before the Christmas rush.”

“I’m heading into Marietta sometime today and could bring you some supplies?”

He shook his head while he finished his first mouthful of buttery French toast. Her thoughtfulness and unselfishness were further reasons to keep their contact to a minimum. The more facets he unearthed about this city girl the more he liked what he discovered.

“Thanks but I need to head into Z’s Hardware tomorrow as some barn supplies I’ve ordered should be in.” A thought struck him, followed by guilt that he hadn’t earlier checked whether she had any furniture. From the brief glimpse of the foyer, her house had appeared empty. “Do you actually have a bed to sleep on? I might have missed your car arriving but wouldn’t have missed a moving truck. I can collect any big items from town that you may need in my truck?”

“That sounds like a good plan but I’m all sorted, thanks. My furniture is in storage in Atlanta but when I bought Rose Crown I freighted over some basic necessities. Trinity was kind enough to come and set the house up.”

“Trinity?” he asked, his fork halfway to his mouth. Ivy having a local friend might explain why she’d bought a holiday house in Paradise Valley. “Trinity Redfern.”

“Yes, do you know her? She’s a speech therapist in Marietta.”

He nodded as he thought of the sassy and always stylishly-dressed brunette who was quick with a smile. “We have a mutual friend called Payton. Isn’t Trinity visiting her parents back east?”

Ivy slid the open book she’d been reading toward her. “She is, her mother’s come out of hospital.” A small smile shaped Ivy’s lips. “Otherwise I would have stayed with her and left poor Rusty in peace.”

Her words were drowned out by Milly’s growls as she played tug-o-war with Rusty over a dishcloth remnant.

Ivy closed the notebook. Rhett examined the cover that pictured green and red sprinkled Christmas cookies. A rainbow of small tabs protruded from the notebook’s worn pages.

“Planning to do some baking?” he asked, knowing he shouldn’t prolong breakfast but powerless to stop himself wanting to linger. Once Ivy’s power was connected he’d be too busy to chat over a lazy breakfast. Strange, too, how he’d never realized how much he’d missed having someone sit across the kitchen table from him.

She ran her hand over the cover with such reverence the notebook had to be far more than a cookbook. “This was my grandmother’s. When I was a child, we’d record our favorite recipes. I promised Henry some of her famous gingerbread brownies so I’m checking what ingredients I’ll need for when I’m in town.”

Just like on the stairs when she’d mentioned her grandparents, sadness pinched her features. The fact she was in Montana and spending Christmas alone suggested her difficult past months involved more than possibly being hurt by a man. He pushed away his unfinished French toast. He knew all about not having the people you love around you for the festive season.

As if sensing the sudden solemnity in the room Milly and Rusty ceased their play and lay with their noses on their paws.

“So did Henry know your grandmother, or he just likes gingerbread brownies?” Rhett asked in an attempt to distract Ivy from whatever gloomy thoughts fixed her attention on the notebook cover.

“Both. My grandfather and Henry grew up together, so that’s how he met my grandmother and became partial to her brownies.”

Ivy stared out the window at the white, snow-carpeted pastures, her expression pensive.

A switch flipped in Rhett’s mind. Henry had always been a local, which meant Ivy’s grandfather had to be too. She’d said her surname was Bishop. He sucked in a swift breath.

“Ivy, was Rose Crown once your family ranch?”

For a moment he didn’t think she’d heard him. Then, eyes solemn, she met his gaze. “Yes. This was my grandfather’s childhood home until he was fourteen. When his father was thrown by a horse and ended up without the use of his legs, they had to sell.”

Rhett nodded. “I know the story. Your great-grandfather was taking cattle to the summer mountain pastures when his horse tripped in a badger hole. If my own family account is true, it was my great-grandfather who found him, built a travois behind his horse and brought him here to Rose Crown.”

“It was and it was my grandfather who spotted them and let everyone know they were riding in. He used to say he was impressed by your great-grandfather’s ingenuity and much to the ranch dogs’ disgust said he spent the summer building travois to ferry them around.”

Rhett grinned briefly. “There are plenty of other stories about old Amos’ resourcefulness and sometimes whiskey was involved.”

As he’d hoped laughter gleamed in Ivy’s eyes.

“I bet there was. Whiskey also features in many of my grandfather’s tales about his father.” Her forefinger traced an invisible pattern on the wood of the table. “I’ve always dreamed of buying back Rose Crown. My plan was to return my grandfather to his family home to live out his days.” The pale skin of her throat rippled as she swallowed. “But I was too late.”

Rhett stayed silent. Just like last night on the stairs he had the urge to comfort her. He toyed with his fork to stop himself reaching across the table and linking her fingers with his. It wasn’t his place, or his right, to console her.

She flicked him a sad smile. “Even though he isn’t with me anymore I somehow feel he knows I am here now and that the land of his forebears is in safe hands.”

Rhett abandoned the fork to fold his arms. “Safe hands?” He hoped the emotion scraping in his voice wouldn’t be obvious. He was yet to prove to anyone, let alone himself, that his cowboy hands were responsible and safe.

“Yes, I thought about buying the land but at the time I also thought Atlanta would be my forever home.” Bitterness clipped her words. “And while I could write a business plan, I know nothing about the day-to-day running of a cattle ranch. I considered hiring a foreman but in the end what Henry said made perfect sense. He said to let the land go to you. He had faith you’d take good care of it.”

“And I will,” Rhett said, tone sincere as he looked toward the rolling ranch lands beyond the kitchen window that formed the backbone of his new life.

The weight of responsibility pressed upon his shoulders and made his self-preservation squirm. Henry’s faith humbled him. There was a time when the old rancher had rightly thought he’d had no sense. He rubbed at his knee, a legacy of riding a devil of a horse after too many beers. He now couldn’t prove Henry wrong.

No matter how much he needed to stay away from Ivy to focus on getting his run-down ranch operational and proving himself a changed man, he also needed to look out for her. Not only did he have a neighborly duty to ensure she would be okay, he also had an obligation to both of their pioneering families. Just like how their great-grandfathers watched each other’s backs, he had to be there for her.

Mouth dry, he risked a glance at her pretty profile as she again stared at the cookbook cover. Even if every internal alarm shrieked code red.

*

Ivy curled her
fingers around her mug of mid-morning coffee. She looked around the main ranch house kitchen that needed cracks covered and a coat of paint and that would be her home for the festive season. Her power had been connected, and now all she needed was food, and she could hole herself up for Christmas. The first steps on her list to regain control over her life could soon be crossed off. The next steps involved dealing with the maelstrom of emotions that kept her awake at night. She’d been holding herself together for so long instinct told her she had to finally break before she could reassemble herself and her emotions. So an asterisked step on her list gave herself permission to fall to pieces.

Movement caught her eye and she looked through the kitchen window. If she stood at a certain angle she could track the smoke curling from Rhett’s cabin chimney.

Now she’d met her neighbor she had no doubt Henry had been right. The land of her forebears was in safe hands. Fences that had been sagging and in disrepair in the Styles Real Estate web photos now stood straight and tall. A neat wall of winter firewood was stacked against Rhett’s cabin. She mightn’t be a ranch girl but she recognized hard work and an attention to detail.

She looked away from the chimney smoke. Rhett might have safe hands but instinct also told her the gorgeous and kind-hearted cowboy was a heartbreaker. The sight of him sleeping on the sofa, his handsome face relaxed, with Milly cuddled by his side, had held her attention for far longer than it should have. She frowned. She couldn’t remember a time when James had made her feel all warm and fluttery inside.

The cell phone in her bag on the kitchen bench burst into the joyful strains of ‘Jingle Bells’. Shoulders tense, she slipped out the phone. James had taken to calling again. When she recognized Trinity’s number on the display, she breathed out a silent breath and answered.

“Hi, Trin.”

“Hey, Ivy. Did you find your welcome to Marietta gift?”

Trinity’s lively tone made Ivy smile. Ever since they’d shared a cabin at summer camp in North Carolina, Trinity’s enthusiasm for life had filled a lonely corner of Ivy’s soul. She may have lost a sister but Trinity was the steadfast and upbeat friend she could always rely on.

“I sure did. I loved the basket filled with Christmas craft items. I can’t wait to make the felt Christmas tree ornaments. How’s your mom?”

“Doing well, thanks. My brother’s coming next week so I can come back and clear all my speech appointments before the holidays. I’ll then head home again for Christmas.”

“That’s wonderful your mom’s doing well. I can’t imagine having one hip replaced, let alone two. I have trouble sitting still for more than ten minutes as it is.”

“You don’t say. I was your camp pottery buddy, remember? You made two pots to my one and then wriggled in your seat until I shared my clay just to keep you busy.”

“And I returned the favor by sharing my care parcel Granny sent every two days.”

Trinity’s laughter became tinged with sadness. “No one made brownies like your Granny did.”

“I know but I’m determined to try. So be prepared to sample recipes in her Christmas cookbook because I’m planning to cook up a storm.”

Trinity groaned. “I swear I’ve already put on five pounds since being home, but you know I won’t say no to either chocolate or sugar.” She paused and when she spoke again her words were serious. “Ivy, please come home with me for Christmas. My family would love to have you, not to mention I need a wing buddy to help me entertain my hyperactive niece and nephew. You don’t have to spend your first Christmas without Mary and Phil alone.”

“Thanks, Trin. But having time to myself has been the carrot that has kept me going.” She infused brightness into her tone and looked at Milly as she chewed on what had once been a small Christmas snowman. “Besides I won’t be totally alone. I have my own hyperactive little charge to chase. Her name is Milly and she chews anything and everything.”