A Cowboy Under the Mistletoe Read Free Page B

palms on the skirt of her suit. “So?”
    Hank regarded her with the ease of a man who was clearly in his element. “Golden retrievers are one of the gentlest breeds.” He beckoned her with a slight tilt of his head. “Why don’t you come over here and say hello?”
    Ally swallowed and eyed the two warily. Hank continued to smile with encouragement. The dog lifted its big head and stared at her, considering.
    The memory of another stray dog who had stared silently—then sunk his teeth into Ally’s ankle—welled up inside her, followed by yet another wave of uncertainty and fear. “She didn’t sound gentle when she came barreling out of the corner,” Ally pointed out, taking another reflexive step back.
    Hank shrugged his broad shoulders in exasperation. “You startled her. This pretty girl didn’t know if you were friend or foe. You’ll both feel better if you take the time to make peace with her.”
    Pretty? He’d called this filthy beast with the large jaws and wary eyes pretty? “And how would you suggest I do that?”
    â€œPet her. Talk to her. Show her a little kindness,” he said as he rubbed the dog’s head and neck.
    Ally watched as the powerfully built retriever luxuriated in the massage. There was no doubt she was putty in Hank’s hands, but animals sensed when humans were scared. And right now Ally was full of fear. Grimacing, she hugged her arms to her chest, not about to let herself be made vulnerable in that way. “I don’t think so.”
    Hank lifted an eyebrow. “I’d ask why not,” he replied drolly, “but it’s pretty clear you’re still as frightened of this big ol’ sweetheart as she initially was of you.”
    His quiet disapproval rankled. “I don’t like dogs.”
    Hank’s eyes sparkled with devilry. “Dogs and Christmas. Wow. Sure your name isn’t Ebenezer Scrooge?”
    Ally gave him her most repressing look. “Very funny,” she snapped, more annoyed now than embarrassed. “I was bit by a dog that strayed onto our ranch when I was five. I’ve been leery of them ever since.”
    Comprehension lent compassion. “That’s a shame,”Hank said sincerely, shaking his head in regret. “You’re really missing out.”
    Still keeping a cautious eye on the suddenly docile creature, Ally remained where she was. She didn’t care how friendly the big mutt looked now—there was no way Hank was getting her to venture over there. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”
    A car motor sounded in the drive behind them. Ally turned to see a Cadillac pulling up in front of the barn. An elegantly dressed, silver-haired man in a gray Western suit, and a Resistol hat emerged from the car.
    â€œExpecting someone?” Hank asked curiously.
    She nodded as the stranger strode over to meet them.
    I am doing the right thing, she assured herself.
    The short, slim man extended his hand and flashed a smile. “Ally Garrett, I presume? I’m Graham Penderson, of Corporate Farms.”
    Â 
    S O THAT WAS WHY Ally had arrived so early, dressed in a business suit, Hank thought, a mixture of disapproval and disappointment welling up inside him. She’d known she was taking the first step to sell the ranch that had meant everything to her mom and dad.
    And now that Corporate Farms was involved, there was no doubt in his mind who would be the highest bidder.
    Ally pivoted to face him, her expression as coolly commanding as her voice. “I take it you can handle this situation?” she inquired gesturing toward the filthy stray.
    Hank lifted his free hand to tip up the brim of his hat. If she wanted him to act like the hired help, he’d do just that. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, putting as much twang as he could into the words, just to rile her, “I shorely can.”
    Ally narrowed her eyes and