“You know you don’t need an invite –” He stopped. Ivy and Payton looked at each other, their grins wide and eyes bright.
Just. Great. The two strong-willed women had bonded in a heartbeat.
“No way,” he said, voice firm. “I’m too busy.”
“Come on,” Payton cajoled, “It’s Christmas. You could have a house warming and a festive bonfire.”
“And …” Ivy added, “I can do the baking.”
He shook his head and handed Ivy the brown-tipped paintbrush. “I have a sudden need to talk to Henry about cattle. Knock yourself out party planning but it’s not going to happen.”
As he turned he caught sight of a pale-faced woman in jeans and a grey coat heading his way. She stopped beside him and he kissed her cheek. “Hey, Kendall. I’m glad you could make it.”
“Me too. Sorry I’m late. I didn’t think I was going to ever be able to leave the house but it feels good to be here.” She leaned against him. He put his arm around his twin sister. She seemed smaller.
He examined her delicate features as Payton introduced her to Ivy. A slow-burning anger cut through his grief. As much as he, Kendall and Peta missed their gentle mother, their father showed no sign of grieving for his wife. Instead, it was all about him and his ill health. Kendall was practically living in town with him and pandering to his needs was reducing her to a shadow. Guilt nudged him. He should see his father more often but whenever he did the visit ended in an argument. His father would never forgive him for what he considered Rhett’s desertion. Things had been tense before his mother had fallen ill but when Rhett had made sure Bluebell Falls Ranch went to Peta as the firstborn child the rift between him and his father grew canyon deep.
Lost in thought, he realized too late three pairs of expectant female eyes were zeroed in on him. He frowned. Even with him having tuned out of the conversation, he knew what the topic was.
“No. Way. No. Bonfire. I have a barn to make weather tight and fences to mend.”
Kendall hugged him, her blue eyes shining. “Come on, Rhetty. It’s been years since we had one. All you’ll need to do is drag that old tree that fell over in the last windstorm to somewhere closer to the barn. You said you were going to burn it anyway.”
Rhett returned Kendall’s hug before lifting his arm from around her shoulders. “As I said before, I have a conversation with Henry about cattle to have and a reindeer to paint. What I don’t have is time to organize a bonfire.”
But as he walked away, the trio’s laughter told him he’d lost the fight not to have a bonfire before it’d begun.
Chapter Six
‡
Ivy slowed her pace to make the most of the short walk from the main Rose Crown ranch house to Rhett’s cabin. She breathed in the crisp morning air. The heady space and the intense quiet seemed to reach right inside and smooth away the tension accumulated over years of deadlines and hostile clients. Payton was right. This part of Montana was especially beautiful. No wonder her forefathers had chosen this portion of Paradise Valley to settle in.
She stopped to take a better look around. Overnight snow blanketed the ground and settled on the wooden fence running alongside her. In a nearby tree snowflakes clung to bare branches like winter blossoms. She gazed beyond the tree and open field to the cloud-draped Absaroka slopes. Somewhere in the high-country was the last of the Rose Crown line cabins where a lonely cowboy would have been stationed to prevent cattle from wandering before the arrival of barbed wire fences.
A horse’s whinny broke the silence and caused her to walk again. Rhett’s bay mare had spotted her. It had become a daily ritual to feed Cherry an apple on her baking-run to Rhett’s kitchen. So far the mare’s buckskin companion hadn’t considered Ivy worthy of his attention. But Ivy continued to bring two apples. She was determined to win the aloof gelding over.
The mare hung her head over the top wooden rail, her warm breath tickling Ivy’s bare palm as she crunched the apple. A tiny black-and-white fluff ball flittered close to the fence. The black-capped chickadee had also made it a daily ritual to collect the fallen pieces of sweet apple.
As the mare finished and the disinterested buckskin continued to graze the pasture beneath the snow, Ivy pulled the second apple out of her pocket.
“It’s your lucky day,” she said to Cherry. “You still don’t have to share.”
When the next apple disappeared, Ivy patted the bay’s velvet neck and set off toward Rhett’s cabin. In the fresh snow a single set of boot prints led from Rhett’s side door to the barn.
She hesitated. She made sure she delivered Rhett’s Christmas treats when he’d be away from the cabin. There 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 as a child?”
“Yes. It’s still there.” He paused and Ivy could have sworn, despite the barn shadows, color darkened his lean cheeks. “I see you’ve been feeding Cherry apples so aren’t worried by horses. Maybe if the weather clears we could go for a ride and check it out?”
“I’d like that. I haven’t ridden for a while but riding was Trinity’s and my favorite thing to do at camp.”
“You’ll be fine on Cherry. She’s bomb proof. I wouldn’t say the same about Tucker.”
“What’s his story anyway? I don’t know of any horse that doesn’t like apples.”
“No, he doesn’t like apples or anything else. He’s ornery and stubborn but when it comes to cattle he knows what they’re going to do even before they do it.”
“Well, I’m determined to win him over. Are you sure he doesn’t like carrots?”
“Yes.”
“What about peppermints?”
“No.”
She frowned. “There has to be some treat he likes?”
“I doubt it. Just as well I’m easier to please.” The corner of his mouth kicked into a half-smile as he looked at the shortbread she held.
“Thank goodness you are, otherwise I’d have to find another hungry cowboy to make daily deliveries to.” She grinned and handed the container to him. “Here you go. Today’s Christmas offerings.”
“Thanks. Much appreciated. I’ll need to let my belt out a hole at the rate I’m eating.”
She made the mistake of glancing in the direction of his belt buckle. Despite the thick grey sweatshirt he wore she had no trouble visualizing the rock hard abs beneath that no amount of Christmas baking could soften.
“You’d best get jogging or do whatever it is that gets your heart rate pumping because tomorrow it will be fudge.”
Something dark and dangerous flashed across his gaze but the expression was gone as quickly as it appeared.
“I’ve never been a jogger so I’ll have to work out by banging in a few more barn boards.” He dipped his head toward the middle of the barn. “Coffee? I believe it’s my turn to offer?”
*
“You can make coffee in here?” Ivy asked.
Rhett didn’t look at her as he answered. “Sure can.”
He closed the barn doors to keep out the cold and to hide his thoughts about what he’d like to do with Ivy to increase his heart rate. An activity that involved a bed of clean straw and unwrapping her from her layers of winter clothes as if she were a Christmas present. “I told you last night cowboys have hidden talents.”
He led the way through the streams of light pouring in from missing clapboards to a section of the barn where bales of hay were neatly stacked and the smell of coffee wafted. On two bales he’d placed a plank and on the plank rested mugs, a coffee pot and an empty container that had contained yesterday’s chocolate snowballs. He flicked a wall switch and an overhead light illuminated the cozy area.
“Take a seat.” He hefted a bale of hay from off the stack and set it on the floorboards.
She sat on the bale and set her gloves on the floor. He blanked out the pile of clean straw that lay directly behind her.
She accepted her steaming mug of coffee with a smile. “I think you’ll be hammering in nails in until next winter the walls have so many holes.”
He placed a hay bale beside her and sat too, his mug in his hand. “You might be right but in this weather being in here beats fixing fences in sub-zero temperatures.”
“Thank you.”
“What for?”
She waved a hand around. “For this … for choosing to repair and not to demolish my great-grandparent’s barn.”
He took a sip of coffee to break the intensity of her gaze. He could look into her hazel eyes for a lifetime and never tire of seeing the colors change. When she grew serious her irises turned a golden brown.
“You’re welcome. The modern tin barns aren’t quite the same and your great-grandparents built this one so well. In all the years, the foundations and structure haven’t shifted. I can’t say the same for Zane Nash’s barn at Hollyhock Creek Ranch. The windstorm that brought my tree down that Kendall wants for the bonfire destroyed his old barn.” He dipped his head toward a pile of wood that lined the opposite wall. “But he’s been kind enough to give me the barn lumber so I can match it to the original wood.”
Ivy barely glanced at the pile of lumber. “Rhett … about the bonfire … are you fine with the idea? Payton and Kendall are on a mission to make sure it happens.”
“Don’t I know it? Peta has joined the campaign and has already called to lock in a date.”
“I feel bad for forcing you into this. If you really don’t want to hold a bonfire, I’ll talk to them.”
“It’s fine.” He fought to keep his voice casual. She couldn’t know how much her willingness to go to bat for him pushed aside his loneliness. Just like how last night he’d enjoyed her quick wit and laughter so much so that even in the short drive from her house to his cabin, he missed having her by his side. “Apart from the fact I’d never send you to fight my battles, it’s a good idea. I’ve been so focused on getting this place in order I haven’t been at all hospitable.”
“So you really are okay with it?”
“Yep.”
Ivy’s pursed lips indicated she still didn’t believe him.
“It really is fine,” he continued. “Kendall needs something to look forward to. I’ll hold a bonfire so she can have some fun and have a break from looking after Dad.”
Ivy’s eyes searched his. “You don’t talk about your father? Is he ill?”
“Not according to his doctor.” Even to his own ears, Rhett heard the bitterness underscore his words. “There isn’t physically anything wrong with him.”
“Perhaps he’s missing your mother?”
“I wish that was the case. But he doesn’t talk about her. He doesn’t have a photo of her anywhere in the house.” Rhett stared into his coffee that was as black as his thoughts. “He’s always been a difficult man, and it has been his way or no way. Peta has a second-hand girl’s name because he wanted a boy. And even Kendall has a recycled boy’s name, despite me being born first.”
“He does sound like a strong character.”
“You got that right. And my mother was a saint. I have no idea how they stayed together.”
Ivy offered him the open shortbread container. “Perhaps she saw a side of him no one else did?”
“Thanks.” Rhett selected a piece of the golden shortbread. “She must have.”
Silence settled around them as they ate. But the guilt within him soured the sweetness of the treat crumbling in his mouth. He glanced at the woman less than an arm’s length away and the emptiness inside urged him to talk. Ivy had lost her family and then her grandparents. She would understand the unyielding grip grief held on him.
He spoke again. “When she died she made me promise not to give up on him.”
“And have you?” Ivy’s grave gaze never left his.
He took a long second to speak. “No. But then I haven’t been son-of-the-year either.”
Ivy set her mug on the floorboards and wriggled to the edge of the hay bale so she was closer to him. Her knee brushed his and he caught the scent of vanilla. “It’s Christmas, why not start now?”
He frowned. “Start now?”
“Yes. Go and see him. Kendall said last night when we walked her to her car you haven’t been around to the Marietta house for a while.”
“I’m busy and e
ven if I wasn’t, all we do is argue and upset Kendall.”
“I’ll come with you. I mightn’t be able to provide the distraction you need for Christmas Day but I can be one now.”
“A distraction, huh?”
“Yep.”
He wrapped his fingers around his coffee mug even as he stared at her full lips. If he didn’t keep it together, in another five seconds she’d find out exactly how much of a distraction she’d been since he’d turned to see her standing in the snow.
“It won’t be pleasant.”
She shrugged. “I’m a big girl. I know how to handle difficult men.”
Rhett set his mug on the barn floor, the action pressing his knee against hers. She didn’t move.
“What about belligerent, argumentative and intimidating men?”
“Yes. I’ve got them covered too.”
He lifted a hand, intending to brush the silken hair away from her chin. The need to kiss her drowned out all calls from his self-reservation to stand down.
Then sadness filled her eyes, coloring them green. “I also have arrogant, egotistical and unfaithful covered too.”
He lowered his arm. The knowledge his suspicions had been correct and someone had hurt her didn’t bring any satisfaction. “Now that’s one difficult man. What was his name?”
“James Hunt. My boss and my biggest mistake.”
“And why you’ve also come here by yourself for Christmas?”
She sighed. “Yes. I broke off our engagement and resigned as soon as I discovered he’d made a move on the new intern at a conference, just like he’d once done with me. Even though it’s not so much him sleeping with Elise I can’t stop thinking about but more … how could I be so foolish not to have seen through him earlier.”
Rhett gave in to the urge to comfort her and gently squeezed her knee.
“Ivy, each and every one of us is human and makes mistakes and poor choices.” He smiled. “I once had long cowboy hair and wore jeans a size too small.”
As he’d hoped a smile lightened her eyes.
Her Mistletoe Cowboy Page 6