Luca & Ivy and the Four Calling Birds: Small town, feel good, romantic comedy (The Costa Brothers Cozy Christmas Comfort Romance Series Book 3) by Ellie Hall

Author:Ellie Hall [Hall, Ellie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-09-15T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

LUCA

The snowfall shifts from sporadic flakes to a steady wall of winter white. Meanwhile, Rusty and I try to figure out what to do about the truck and plow. He offers to see about a part next time he’s in town that might fix things, at least temporarily.

Apparently, he takes daily runs down the mountain to get my sister Bannock bread from the Hawk & Whistle Pub. Pregnancy cravings or something.

After saying goodbye, Ivy and I head back to the house. Her cheeks are pink and her eyes are bright as Bird rushes at us like we’ve been gone for days rather than minutes.

“Who’s a good girl? Who’s happy we’re home?” Ivy asks while lavishing the dog with love.

The way she says home short circuits the surge that’s been rushing through me since I woke up at dawn and remembered Ivy was sleeping in the room downstairs. The surge doubles down when we touch. It becomes a triple threat when I think about her staying longer.

Home? It’s like Ivy considers this place hers now too. But that’s the thing. It’s mine. My fortress of solitude. The only guests I welcome I’m bound to by blood and would just as soon as kick me out onto my own doorstep than allow me to turn them away.

I huff as I head to the kitchen to make lunch. “Am I wrong for wishing my sister didn’t like you so much?”

Ivy cocks a hip. “Really just speaking your mind now, huh?”

“That’s what happens on day two. By day three, well—” I shrug because there is no telling what may happen.

Counting on her fingers she says, “I’m going to amend my review of the Costa Chalet to include that the proprietor has questionable grooming habits given the state of his beard, makes rude comments, and let’s not forget that he wields an axe.”

“It was a hatchet.” I set down the knife I used to slice a tomato for turkey sandwiches.

“Yeah, yeah. We really have some work to do, Beast.” She toasts four pieces of the homemade sourdough bread one of the ladies in town gave me.

I get out cheese and lettuce. “I thought I was Mr. Marshmallow.”

“I’m starting to question my judgment,” she mutters.

Oof. That hits where it hurts. Leaning against the counter, I grip it with my hands. “Ivy, I’ll admit it was fun to flirt at the Beanery. But that’s the extent of it for me. I left and returned to my mountain hideaway. The end. Now, you’re here, trampling all over all my efforts to lead a solitary life.” I huff and then sloppily spread mayo and mustard on the bread.

She holds up another finger to indicate number four in her list of customer complaints. “He probably needs therapy, or at least someone to talk to about the emotions that prompt him to want to isolate away from humanity. But I guess I’ll add a point in your favor because you seem to have a great family.”

Slapping the sandwiches together because she’s so spot on, I set them at either end of the table.

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