Page 84 of Mistletoe and Christmas Kisses

“What’s that in your pocket?”

Pocket? Tanner glanced at the ceiling, shifted his buttocks in his chair. Adam’s candid scrutiny had the power to strip a man naked. Especially a man none too quick on his feet. Nonetheless, Tanner raised a defiant hand and plucked at his shirt. Probably a frilly trinket Cowboy-lover had—

Oh...he’d forgotten about those. He dropped his arm, shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Kate’s spectacles.” Adam slapped his hand to the table. “Give them to me.”

“No.”

“She’s coming over early tomorrow, before the party, to help Charlie make Christmas decorations. I’ll return them to her.” A persistent tap against wood. “Give them to me.”

“I said no!” Tanner jerked to his feet, his chair banging the wall. “I’ll be there. I can...I can give them to her.” Except he did not want to see her, did he?

God, he hoped he didn’t.

“From the looks of things, you don’t need to get near her, and she doesn’t need to get near you.”

“Don’t interfere, Adam. Not in this.” Of course, his friend was right. He knew that. He just didn’t like anyone telling him not to get near her.

Adam slid his hand in a circle, dark gaze probing. “You’re here, bloody and drunk, and she’s out, or was out, riding my horse hell-bent for leather. Why shouldn’t I interfere?”

Tanner bolted a step forward, upsetting the table. The whiskey bottle danced off the edge and shattered on the floor. Shards of glass crunched beneath Tanner’s boots as the smell of alcohol surrounded them. “Taber? You let her ride Taber?”

Adam grimaced and stood, pulling soaked cloth from his legs. He shook one foot, then the other. “For the love of....” He rounded the overturned table, grasped Tanner’s shoulder, and propelled him across the crowded saloon.

“Careful, newspaper boy, careful.”

“Doesn’t your precious Doris know you’re a newspaper boy, too?”

“I’m a newspaperman,” Tanner said, and stumbled past the swinging doors with a hop and lurch. He stopped his forward motion thanks to a wooden post and an uneven board wedged against the toe of his boot. His arm circled the post, tangling in a strand of ivy garland, and knocking a holly wreath to the ground. He pressed his brow to the rough wood, the boardwalk tilting beneath his feet. Jesus, for a breath of air not tainted with the scent of pine. “Damn decorations.”

A strong grasp steadied him. “Can you make it down?”

He nodded and swallowed the taste of tree limbs and whiskey. Peeling off the post, he righted himself with more strength than he would have imagined he possessed.

“You want me to get a wagon, Tan?”

“No, no. No wagon.”

“Doc Olden—”

“No doctor.” Tanner yanked his fingers through his hair, pulled his damp collar from his neck.

“Your arm—”

“I popped a few stitches. The bleeding stopped hours ago.”

“But—”

“To the homestead, Mr. Chase.” He tumbled off the boardwalk, a fresh layer of sweat glazing his skin with each step. Jesus, he needed to get off his feet before he landed on his face in the dirt.

Adam muttered a curse and caught up to him. Tanner shook off the hand that crept beneath his elbow.

Moonlight washed over them, throwing slanted shadows across their path. Dry footfalls and the occasional squeal of a passing wagon were the only sounds. Tanner watched his breath cloud before his eyes and wondered why his world felt as if it was shattering. Same as his mother’s Bristol glass goblet, the one he had thrown at his brother after a particularly rousing childhood argument.

“Kate was very upset when she came to me, Tan.”

Tanner’s steps faltered. He dug the heel of his boot into a wheel groove and spoke so softly he barely heard his own words, “I never intended to hurt her.”