His Christmas Cowgirl

by Alissa Callen

  Today was only the beginning of the life she’d always dreamed of.

  The End

  Enjoy an exclusive holiday excerpt from

  Her Mistletoe Cowboy

  Alissa Callen

  Copyright © 2014

  He had company.

  The crunch of snow behind Rhett Dixon confirmed what the flicker of the bay mare’s ears told him. He wasn’t alone. He finished tickling the sweet spot on the horse’s neck as she rubbed her head against his jacket. Faithful old Cherry loved her daily scratch.

  From over his shoulder, the icy breeze brought the faint scent of vanilla. He frowned. His unexpected visitor was female. But it couldn’t be his childhood friend, Payton Hollis. Perfume wasn’t exactly on the working cowgirl’s ‘must wear’ list. It also couldn’t be his sisters. Peta and Kendall now phoned before they’d arrived to make sure he’d have a fire lit. He hadn’t heard the last of their complaints that they’d gotten frostbite from his arctic log cabin.

  The mare, happy she’d been spoilt enough, lowered her head to the hay Rhett had delivered. He glanced at the big buckskin gelding to his left and, satisfied Tucker wouldn’t poach Cherry’s portion, he eased the weight off his right leg readying to turn. The twinge in his knee reminded him why he lived on a high-country ranch so isolated he’d only ever had two visitors. Well, if his sisters even counted as guests.

  He turned.

  The ache in his knee faded. The cold biting his cheeks receded. The grief that never left him, dulled.

  Yes, his visitor was female. But not local.

  His breath expelled in a dense, white cloud.

  She was also … beautiful. Knock the wind from your chest beautiful.

  And cold.

  Her arms hugged her torso and snow glistened on the fawn-brown hair that fell from beneath her fur-trimmed hood. Lips, that should have been pink, were pale, and from the shadows beneath her eyes he wondered if something else besides the glacial temperature leached her of both warmth and color.

  He made his way through the wooden gate toward the stranger.

  “Hi there.” His gloved hands flicked over the buttons on his sheepskin jacket. “It’s not the best day to be out and about.”

  The woman might be wearing a long black jacket but thanks to his sisters he knew the thin outer wear was more of a fashion item than functional.

  “Hi. Yes, I know. My feet feel like two ice bricks.” She shifted from one high-heeled black boot to the other in an attempt to beat the cold seeping through her thin soles. “Sorry to bother you, but I need a hand.”

  Her smooth and cultured words confirmed she should be in a heated city condominium and not out in the winter weather of the Montana mountains.

  Rhett shrugged out of his coat. Ignoring the wind gust that delved beneath the collar of his thick plaid shirt, he offered the woman his jacket.

  “No problem. Here … take this. Has your car broken down?”

  She shook her head and made no effort to unfold her arms and take the coat. It hung suspended between them. Used to stubborn sisters, without thought he stepped nearer and draped it around her.

  Big mistake.

  He was so close he could see the creamy texture of her skin and the silken length of her dark lashes. He could smell the now stronger scent of vanilla mixed in with something sweet. Orange? He could also see the flash of spirit in her hazel eyes as she stepped side-ways so the heavy coat slipped off her narrow shoulders and back into his hands.

  “Thanks. But I’m fine. You’ll need your coat.”

  He nodded, knowing it would be futile to argue. Her firm tone made it obvious she might be out of her urban comfort zone but she was no helpless city girl. His independent elder sister, Peta, had taught him well. It was a brave man who’d override the wishes of a woman with a tilted chin. Even if that woman was pint-sized and barely reached his jawline.

  Beneath the stranger’s folded arms a bulge within her coat caught his attention. Again he breathed out a slow and heavy white cloud. She was pregnant. The realization shouldn’t kick like a badass bronco. Payton had once told him the right girl would one day walk into his life. For some reason disappointment bit deep it wasn’t going to be this pale-skinned beauty.

  Coat hanging from his hand, he stared past her to look for a car or a male companion. Just as well this woman wasn’t the one to fulfill Payton’s prophecy. He had no time for a relationship. He had a point to prove and a past to exorcise. He hadn’t walked away from everything he’d known to fail to honor the promise he’d made on his mother’s grave. He needed to get this beautiful stranger on her way and refocus on running his ranch and proving he’d changed.

  He scanned the way she’d walked. Only a single set of footprints disturbed the fresh snow and no distant shape of a car sat near the road. Anger filled him. What type of man let his pregnant partner out alone in this weather and in this isolated part of Paradise Valley? The walk into the ranch wasn’t a quick stroll. No wonder she looked exhausted.

  “Please put your c … coat on. I’m feeling c … colder just looking at you.”

  The chatter of her teeth, returned his gaze to hers. And what type of man was he letting a pregnant woman stay out in the cold longer than she had to?

  “Okay.” He shrugged on his jacket. “I’ve a pot of coffee heating. How about I pour you a mug while you tell me where your car is and what I can do to help?”

  The woman didn’t move toward his log cabin across the yard. Instead an indefinable emotion darkened her eyes.

  He rebuttoned his coat and lowered his voice as if talking to a spooked mustang. “It’s okay. My name is Rhett Dixon and you’re on my ranch, Little Rose Crown. Anyone around these parts will vouch I’m no serial killer.”

  “Just as well because I took my self-defense classes very seriously and I’m too frozen and too tired to go easy on you.” The corners of her mouth briefly curled. “Besides I know who you are. Henry Watson vouched for you.”

  “Old Henry sent you?”

  “No, not exactly –” She looked at her stomach beneath her still folded arms.

  He followed her gaze and could have sworn the bulge inside her jacket wriggled. The bump suddenly moved and then yipped.

  Rhett couldn’t help his smile or stem a strange flood of relief. He couldn’t be sure she was single but one thing he knew was there was no baby bulge beneath this city girl’s jacket.

  Only a very lucky puppy.

  *

  Ivy Bishop lost the battle to keep Milly still and quiet. She’d hoped the warmth of her body would send the tiny Jack Russell to sleep. And it had. For all of ten minutes. But now Milly had taken her puppy power-nap, she was ready to play. The pup squirmed her way to where Ivy had left her zipper down to ensure Milly had enough air and popped her brown and white head out of the jacket.

  Usually Ivy couldn’t look away from her cute, big-eyed face but now all she could stare at was the smiling cowboy in front of her. Even with his hat shading his features, he would be on every unattached woman’s Christmas list.

  An old friend of her grandfather’s, Henry Watson, had reassured her Rhett Dixon was a man to be trusted. But the rancher hadn’t mentioned anything about the dimples that etched Rhett’s lean cheeks, or the blue of his eyes that reassured her that no matter how much winter might dull the sky it would one day be summer.

  She swallowed past the ache that never seemed to leave her throat. She hoped, just like the cycle of the seasons, that no matter how much her broken heart bled it would one day be whole.

  Milly’s little pink tongue aimed for Ivy’s chin and she angled her head away.

  Rhett’s grin broadened. “Someone has missed the memo it’s cold out and not playtime.”

  “You can say that again.” Ivy dodged Milly’s tongue for a second time. “I’ve only had her for a day but already know I’ve misnamed her. She should be Mischief and not Milly.” She risked easing her grip on the squirming puppy to hold out a gloved hand. “I’m Ivy Bi
shop.”

  Rhett’s own gloved hand briefly secured hers in a strong and firm clasp. “Nice to meet you Ivy and Milly.”

  He stepped closer to tickle the top of Milly’s small head. The pup latched on to his thumb, growled and shook her head from side to side. Rhett’s dimples again flickered. Ivy breathed in the scent of wood smoke and man and a strange sense of longing buffeted her self-control.

  She needed to get away from this cowboy with his broad shoulders, his gentleness and his compassion. With his offer of his coat and a hot coffee he’d made her feel more cared for in two minutes than James had done in two years. And such a feeling was dangerous. It told her she hadn’t yet repaired the firewall she’d let James breach. She was in Montana to hole herself up for the festive season and to heal. Not to be needy, weak or vulnerable.

  Rhett prized his thumb free. “I’ll need my thumb, Miss Milly, if I’m to get you guys back on the road.”

  Ivy tightened her gloved grip on the puppy to make sure she didn’t leap to the ground and make a beeline for the cuff of Rhett’s jeans. There was a reason her own jeans were tucked inside her knee-high black boots. The denim now sported tiny puncture marks.

  Rhett turned to examine the far-off road. “So is your car close?”

  She blanked out the handsome line of his profile. “It’s not my car I need help with but my front door lock.”

  Rhett’s gaze snapped back to hers and narrowed. “As in the front door to the main Rose Crown ranch house?”

  “Yes, exactly. The lock has frozen over. I don’t have a match or lighter to heat the key to melt the lock ice.”

  As one they turned to look at the substantial, two-storey ranch house that stood between them and the distant road. When the ranch was auctioned the original ranch house and five acres of land had been subdivided off. Rhett had bought the rest of the land and the log cabin which had once been the foreman’s home.

  Silence engulfed them only broken by the whistle of wind and the soft thud as a clump of snow fell from off the top rail of the nearby wooden fence. Milly burrowed within the warmth of Ivy’s jacket.

  Rhett again looked at her. Wariness eclipsed the light in his eyes. “You’re the absentee city owner who bought the place for a holiday house?”

  “I am.”

  He again looked at the main ranch house and then over to his cabin.

  “Okay, then.” He strode away before she could further gauge his expression. “Let’s get you inside before you and Milly freeze.”

  Ivy settled a hand on the bump within her jacket to steady the puppy and set off after Rhett. Her numb feet had trouble keeping up and Rhett slowed his long-legged pace.

  He shot her a sideways glance. “Winter’s not the best season to holiday here in Montana. You planning to stay until the snow thaws?”

  “Maybe.” She examined his face. His earlier easy-going camaraderie had become tempered by an unexpected gravity. He must be worried she’d cause trouble or that her frozen lock would be the beginning of all the help she’d need. “But once my door’s unlocked, I’ll leave you in peace, I’ve come for solitude not socializing.”

  “Fair enough. But I am here if you need anything. Neighbors look out for each other around here.”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She was so used to battling life on her own, even when engaged to James. A simple act of kindness was as foreign to her as snow was to her chic-city red car that had come into view as they rounded the side of the ranch house.

  A fatigue, stemming from more than three days of driving, dragged at her feet. She was so tired of fighting to survive in the impersonal corporate world. So tired of the frenetic pace of downtown Atlanta. So tired of searching for the impossible. She just wanted to sit by a fire, bake her grandmother’s Christmas sugar cookies and rewind to a time when life had been simple. To a time when she’d been happy and whole.

  “Been a long day?” Rhett asked, voice low as he slowed his pace even further.

  “More like a long six months.”

  He nodded, his boots squeaking in the snow as he stepped onto the path that led to the front steps.

  She stopped and took a second to collect herself. The rapid white puffs of her breaths let her know her emotions were done with lying low. She focused on slowing her breathing and reinforcing her control.

  Everything was going to be okay. Sure she’d acquired an abandoned puppy at a gas station on the way to Marietta, but otherwise her plan to piece her life back together was on track. She was here and would soon be inside the building that loomed before her.

  Solid and resolute, the main Rose Crown ranch house was a tangible reminder of the strength of the pioneering spirit. Named after the rose crown wildflowers that grew high in the mountains, the house had changed hands over the years and while it had been neglected, it hadn’t ever crumbled.

  She stood taller. Soon light would shine from the lifeless windows and Christmas color would add vibrancy to the stone and timber. And soon she would be ready to put the past months behind her and move forward. So until then she had to continue to keep everything together.

  She joined Rhett on the steps and fumbled in her jacket pocket for the house keys. Standing next to him, she became even more conscious of the breadth of his muscled shoulders. When he’d removed his jacket she’d seen how his well-built torso had tapered down to lean hips. His strength was honed from hard work and not from an hour in the gym before a day in the office. Every tough line was earned carving out a life in a rugged and sometimes unforgiving land.

  She handed her new neighbor the house keys and then stepped backward to allow him room to examine the frozen lock. Milly popped her head out of the jacket and set about worrying the synthetic fur on Ivy’s jacket. She disengaged the fur from the pup’s needle-sharp teeth and watched as Rhett then strode to her unlocked car. He popped the hood and pressed the key onto the still-warm engine mount.

  “Clever,” she said, with a wry smile. The heat from the engine would warm the key and melt the ice in the lock. “I’ll know for next time.”

  “Just make sure you’re wearing gloves if you do ever do this because the key will become hot. And, once the door is open, if you put a little petroleum jelly on your key and inside the lock, hopefully there won’t be a next time.” He closed the car hood. “Right, let’s see if this works.”

  When the front door swung open, Ivy released her held breath. Her stiff and cold lips curved in a smile.

  “You don’t know how glad I am to see the inside of this house.”

  Emotion thickened her tone.

  A fleeting emotion washed across his features, before he dipped his head to indicate she step through the front door. Still smiling, she walked into the entryway. She briefly closed her eyes.

  She was home.

  Hands unsteady, she placed Milly on the floorboards. First, she’d warm some food for the pup, then fire up the heating, have a coffee and take a very hot bath.

  Rhett followed her inside and as he shut the front door darkness blanketed the foyer. She straightened to flick on the light switch.

  Nothing happened.

  No. Way.

  She flicked the switch on and off as though sheer desperation would force the light to work.

  “Sally assured me the electricity would be connected.” Even to her own ears her words emerged high-pitched.

  Boots sounded on the hardwood floor before natural light streamed into the foyer as Rhett reopened the front door. She shivered as an icy wind also blew inside. Milly sat on the toe of her right boot and Ivy returned her to the warmth inside her jacket.

  “Looks like it’s coffee at my place after all,” Rhett said, voice cheerful. “Ladies and puppies first.” He waved a hand for her to return outside.

  “I’ll call Sally right away and get it sorted.”

  “I’m afraid you won’t have much luck seeing it’s Sunday.” He closed the front door behind them.

  Her stomach plummeted to her frozen toes.
“Sunday?” Her days of driving had left her disorientated.

  “Yep. But I live on my own so have plenty of room for you to stay. You can call Sally tomorrow and get everything sorted then.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek and stared at him. Despite his reassuring words she couldn’t shake the impression he shared her disquiet at the main house having no power. His shoulders were a little too rigid.

  “I don’t want to put you out. But you’re right, Sally won’t be working on a Sunday.”

  “You won’t be putting me out. The weather’s closing in so I need to come inside anyway.”

  As his fathomless gaze met hers, there was no sign of the light-hearted cowboy she’d first met.

  She shivered again, but this time not from the bitter cold. A tiny part of her, a part that shouldn’t be feeling glad that he lived alone, also shouldn’t be feeling hurt the last thing he appeared to want was her company.

  Find out what happens next in Her Mistletoe Cowboy…

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  If you enjoyed His Christmas Cowgirl, you’ll love the other Wildflower Ranch stories!

  The Wildflower Ranch Series

  Book 1: Cherish Me, Cowboy

  Buy Now!

  Book 2: Her Mistletoe Cowboy

  Buy Now!

  Book 3: Her Big Sky Cowboy

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  Book 4: His Outback Cowgirl

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  Book 5: Hold Me, Cowboy

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  Book 6: His Christmas Cowgirl

  About the Author

  When not writing USA Today bestselling author Alissa Callen plays traffic controller to four children, three dogs, two horses and one renegade cow who really does believe the grass is greener on the other side of the fence. After a childhood spent chasing sheep on the family farm, she has always been drawn to remote areas and small towns, even when residing overseas. Once a teacher and a counsellor, she remains interested in the life journeys people take. Her books are characteristically heart-warming, emotional and character driven. She currently lives on a small slice of rural Australia.