Read Home For Christmas (A Copper Mountain Christmas) for Free Online Page A

how much food you make. You don't seem like a less is more kind of person."
    "I'm not." She struggled to remove her gloves. "But Ty is. He always put my needs ahead of his own."
    Not this time, if Nate could stop him. A year from now, Rachel would be living in Marietta, unable to remember what she liked about Arizona. "Let me take off your gloves."
    He expected Rachel to say no. She held out her hands instead. A good sign? He hoped so.
    Nate peeled off the first glove, then the second. He tossed them on the snow. "These are soaking wet."
    She wiggled her pale fingers. "It's not so bad."
    "That's what they all say before frostbite sets in." His dad used to carry a handkerchief in his back pocket. Nate wished he had one now. "We need to dry off your hands."
    "My scarf."
    He wiped her hands with the side not touching the snowman. "That's better, but they're still cold."
    "I'm fine."
    "Yes, you are." He removed his gloves then tucked them under his arm next to her new ones. "But your hands aren't. Let's warm them up."
    "O-kay." She sounded hesitant, anything but okay.
    He covered her hands with his. So cold he let go for an instant. "You're fingers feel like popsicles."
    Rachel tensed, pulled back slightly. "You're exaggerating."
    He rubbed his hands over hers, trying to use the friction and his own body heat to help her hands. "This will be quick and painless."
    "I wouldn't be so sure about that," she muttered.
    "Relax." Rachel didn't have the soft, pampered skin of some women he knew. His fingers brushed over calluses and rough patches. These were the hands of a worker. His thumb ran back and over what felt like a wide scar. "What happened here?"
    "A burn."
    "From an oven?"
    "Campfire. Making s'mores." She sighed. "I'll never get a job as a hand model."
    "No hand model could bake as well as you."
    Her gaze met his and sent a lightning bolt of heat crackling through him.
    "Thanks," she said, her voice quiet.
    Nate didn't know if she meant his compliment or warming up her hands. He didn't care. Not with awareness of this woman zinging through him. "You're welcome."
    He liked the smaller size of her hand compared to his. Hers were practical hands, clipped nails with no polish. Hands that kneaded dough and worked magic with icing. Hands that belonged at the ranch, able to do long days of hard work without complaint. Hands that fed stomachs and souls.
    Her skin wasn't silky smooth, but warm. He massaged each of her thin, tapered fingers.
    "Um, Nate." Her lips parted, her cheeks redder than before. "My hands aren't cold anymore. I'm ready for the gloves."
    Crap. He let go of her as if he were holding a scalding branding iron barehanded. How long had he been holding her hands?
    Nate held open the gloves, trying to convince himself what he'd been doing was nothing but basic first aid to ward off hypothermia and frostbite.
    Rachel stuck her hands inside. She adjusted her jacket sleeves while he put on his gloves. "These are better. I'm glad you stopped by."
    Then he remembered his reason for being here. Nate had completely forgotten about Operation: Hansel and Gretel once he'd touched Rachel. Not first aid, foreplay. He shook the thought from his head. Time to focus. "I'm here because I want to talk to you about gingerbread."
    She released a slow breath, the condensation hung on the air. The only thing missing was the word SIGH! floating inside a dialog bubble. "Do we have to now? I want to build another snowman."
    "I can multitask."
    "Then let's get started." She dropped to her knees and made a ball of snow. "I want to make a bigger one this time."
    Her jacket inched up enough, giving him a nice view of her butt. He could stand here and stare all day except he was supposed to be building a snowman and talking with her. "Okay, but your jeans are getting wet."
    Not that he'd mind warming up her calves, knees, thighs…
    "I always bring spare clothes." She rolled the ball in the snow, making it bigger. "Cooking mishaps, snowman making. You