Page 86 of Mistletoe and Christmas Kisses
“No, she’s not here. I met her at the livery.” Adam halted, fidgeting with the lapel of his coat. “She looked a bit wild-eyed. Big John didn’t have any horses available, so I let her take Taber. I remember what I endured with Charlie. I thought riding might help. Always helped me.”
Anger flared in Tanner’s belly. Nothing had ever helped him forget her. “She doesn’t need your damn horse. She’s fine. More than fine. Crawford-what’s-it sees to that.”
“Tan, she didn’t look fine. She looked frantic. Blood on her dress, her hair tangled. Grass, leaves stuck in it. I don’t know what happened today. I won’t ask. But, somehow, you have this all mixed up. I think she cares. More than you believe she does. More than I believed she did. Charlie...oh, never mind.”
Tanner stared across rolling hills awash in silver moonlight, his heart racing. Still cared? Could it be possible?
Dammit, was it possible he still cared?
No. Oh, no. The only women he cared about were women like Doris, who didn’t have the power to rip a man’s heart from his chest. Besides, Kat loved this Crawford person. Hell, she was probably planning her wedding while Tanner stood in some bucolic yard mooning over her.
“Pain confuses memories, Tan. And, believe me, time will not lift a finger to correct the mistakes. You have to do that yourself.”
Tanner shrugged. “Confused or not, memories are part of the past, and I don’t want any part of the past.” Flashing amber eyes and cinnamon-scented skin. Damp sheets and teasing smiles. Unreserved laughter and genuine friendship.
The anguish, the deafening despair, he felt when he realized he lost her. “Huh-uh. No thanks.”
“If you believe that, Tan,” Adam said, his skepticism evident.
“Don’t you worry, I believe it.”
Except, his heart was not so sure.
CHAPTER3
Afierce gust ripped across the Chase’s porch, loosening Kate’s chignon and slinging strands of hair into her face. She slammed her ruched silk bonnet atop her head. When her mother arrived after closing the millinery, she would take one look at Kate, click her tongue in that bothersome way, and insist her daughter recoil the lopsided lump of hair into some semblance of order. Then she would follow Kate to the nearest mirror to make sure she obeyed.
Kate took a deep breath and lifted her hand, troubled to note that her fingers quivered. Strangely enough, no elaborate knocker graced the door, just a trailing ivy wreath. She knocked gently. Her mother had mentioned, on more than one occasion, the lack of pretense surrounding the wealthiest couple in Edgemont.
Kate considered this praise; her mother did not.
She squared her shoulders, reclaimed the basket, and veiled her trembling hands in the folds of flannel overlapping the edges.
Calm down, Kate, you can do this.
Can I? Can I endure an evening watching every woman over twelve and under eighty disintegrate when Tanner’s gaze lands on them? Can I forget he kissed me? Can I—
“Kate? Kate?”
Kate shook herself and glanced up to find the door had opened. She smiled at Charlotte Chase through her embarrassment. “Charlotte, hello.”
“I’m so glad you’re here.” Charlotte beckoned her inside the house, then kicked the door closed with her heel, the swirl of black atop her head flying in all directions. “And call me Charlie, please. No one, outside of your mother and the reverend, call me Charlotte.”
“Charlie, yes, of course, I remember.”
Employing little ceremony, Charlie bounced on her toes, plucked Kate’s shawl from her shoulders, and flung the wrap on the hall tree’s highest hook. Helplessly, Kate’s gaze jumped from her hostesses’ tattered sweater to the trousers hugging her lean hips. Charlie caught the look and emitted a laugh more suited to a sailor than a woman whose chin barely reached Kate’s bosom.
“Don’t worry. I’ll change into an appropriate gown for the party. I think you may be a little early, or heavens, I’m a little late. Can you imagine the reception I would receive from your mother wearing this?” Charlie’s eyes widened as her hand flew to her mouth. She took a step forward. “Hellfire, I didn’t leave her on the porch, did I?”
Kate released her own indecorous laugh. “No, she had to close the shop.”
“Good. Oh, no, did I just say that out loud?” A blush worked its way across her cheeks.
Kate waved her off. “Believe me. I understand. I love my mother, but she is a rather staunch defender of appropriate feminine conduct. If it makes you feel any better, she’s quite disappointed by my refusal to act like a brainless ninny, when the tactic would work so much better for me. The old adage about attracting more flies with honey has been a common theme in our discussions of late.”
“Yes, she tried pushing that tactic, as you call it, on me when I first met Adam. I didn’t listen, either.” Charlie leaned over the basket and flipped the flannel aside. “Oh, gingerbread, a pecan tea cake. What are these?” She pulled a wrapped ball out, brought it to her nose and sniffed.
“My mother calls them Secrets. Bon-bons with a note inside. A parlor game they played when she was a girl. A suitable parlor game.”