Page 77 of Mistletoe and Christmas Kisses
“What the hell is going on, Tan? You look like you haven’t slept in days, bathed in weeks, eaten in months. Christ, your clothing is hanging off you in tatters.”
Tanner shifted, the oil lamp’s glare lighting amber fires in his glass. Amber. Like Kat’s eyes during— “Nothing. Nothing to worry about,” he said, slowly lifting his head. He cleared his throat and repeated the words in a steadier voice.
Adam’s gaze jumped from his arm to his face. “Yes, I see.”
“Anyway, I’m sorry to rush down here without more notice. I telegraphed as soon as I could.” He tilted his glass back and forth. “I didn’t realize how close it was to Christmas.”
“Tanner, I’ve been asking you to come for two years. Plenty of room since I added on to the house.” Adam paused, took a deliberate sip. The flame illuminated the calculating glint in his eyes. “Maybe you can find time to write an editorial for the Sentinel while you’re here. God knows, we could use it. Besides, Charlie is so damn excited to see you, she can’t sit still.”
Thank you, God. A safe topic. “Charlie,” Tanner said, fingering the chipped rim of his glass. “How is she?”
“Wonderful. Beautiful. A pain in my ass.” Adam grinned and Tanner felt a moment’s envy at the expression of love on his face. “Ever since you put her on the train in Richmond and told her what you thought of me, she’s considered you a true friend. Truthfully, you didn’t have to be quite so honest.”
“Yes, well, standing in for you that day was terribly unpleasant. I had to get some enjoyment. Ruining your good name with the woman you loved worked at the time.”
“I’ve paid heavily for my cowardice, believe me.”
Cowboy-lover’s heels clicked against the plank floor as she swabbed the bar and whistled “Camptown Races” in an off-key chirp. Adam’s shoulders hitched, fell. He blew out a breath, glanced at Tanner, glanced away.
Here it comes. Tanner’s stomach sank to his boots.
“Tan, what did I intrude upon today? By the stagecoach?”
Tanner smiled, a slight smile, the best one he could manage. Then he drained his glass in one swallow. “Why do you think you intruded upon anything?”
Adam’s jaw jumped as he ground his teeth together. “Fine, don’t tell me. None of my business. But let me remind you: this is a small town. So goddamned small you can stroll from one end to the other and never finish a cheroot. If you have a problem with Katherine Peters, it’ll be hard to avoid it, or her, in Edgemont. And Kate’s mother, you remember Charlie’s chaperone in Richmond, don’t you? Mrs. Peters owns a fripperies shop down the street.”
“Yeah, yeah, I remember. I saw the sign for her store.” Tanner licked a drop of whiskey from his lip and scrutinized his empty glass with marked intent.
Adam rolled his eyes and poured a half measure.
Tanner frowned at the stingy allotment; Adam sighed and slid the bottle out of reach.
“Charlie’s having a Christmas tree decorating party.” Adam propped his chin on his fist and leaned forward. “If you don’t show, she will kill me. And I know for a fact Mrs. Peters is invited. Her daughter is sure to be there, too. Can you handle that without upsetting the guests? One lovely guest in particular.”
“No problem.”
“Are you sure?”
“Look, I knew her once. Okay?” Tanner slammed his glass to the table.
“How well?”
How well? Well enough for dreams to wake him. Dreams that had him desperately searching a cold bed for a warm body. Some days, when loneliness seemed a living, breathing entity inside him, he smelled her scent on his sheets.
“How well, Tanner? I guess I should understand in the event I need to stand between you again.”
“How well?” He tipped his glass high. Welcome warmth flowed through him. “Pretty well. About two years ago.”
Adam’s hand shot out, entreating. “And?”
“Suffice it to say, the lady isn’t as charmed with me as old Doris. At one time, maybe, but some well-intended lies, a series of articles in the Times, and a bit of belated, ham-fisted backtracking botched that rather well.”
“With both of you in Richmond, seems like—”
“Seems like nothing. Close proximity hasn’t helped. The woman literally dashes the other way when she sees me coming. Even if” —he shook his head— “even if I wanted to give the relationship another try, she has someone. Saw them twice. On the street. A few weeks later, at the opera. The second time, I asked my host who the man was.” The bastard clinging to her side, hand resting possessively on her arm. “A damned society boy. I certainly don’t reside in his circle, so I’m not acquainted with him. Too lofty an assortment for a lowly newspaperman.”
“Maybe—”