Free Her Mistletoe Cowboy by Alissa Callen

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