Lips That Touch Mine (25 page)

"Karlton!" Boyd's eyes were fierce as he
yanked Karlton away from her.

Karlton elbowed Boyd aside and grabbed the
front of Claire's coat. "Stay out of my business or you're going to
be sorry."

Boyd clutched Karlton's shirtfront and shoved
him against the bar, his face red with fury. "Don't ever handle a
lady like that again."

"This lady is costing me money. I have bills
to pay, damn it!"

"That's not her problem."

"She was sneaking around the storeroom."
Karlton glared at her. "What were you looking for?"

The saloon became silent and every man stared
at her with suspicion. She struggled to hold back tears of
mortification and pain.

Boyd shoved Karlton away and turned to face
her. "What are you doing here?"

She lifted her chin and glared at him. "I was
bringing Sailor back because he's bothering my new boarders." Not
caring if he believed her or not, she turned and bolted into the
storeroom.

Boyd followed her and pulled the door closed.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, his face too shadowed for her to see it
clearly.

"How can you employ an offensive brute like
him?" she asked, gesturing toward the bar.

"I had no idea he'd do a thing like that." He
caught her wrists and gave them a light squeeze. "Don't lump us all
in the same mold," he said. "Ninety-nine percent of the men in that
room would rather cut off their own hand than hurt a woman."

She rubbed her elbow. "Why do I always seem
to find the one percent?"

"Because you provoke every man you meet." He
shook his head and released her wrists. "Karlton's angry, Claire.
He distributes liquor to all the saloons you've been marching on.
Your temperance cause is threatening his livelihood."

"That doesn't give him a right to physically
accost me."

"No, it doesn't," he said. His voice was
filled with regret. "I'm sorry he hurt you."

"You won't need to stay with Anna and me
tonight. Mr. Ormand will be there."

"Is he capable of dealing with a man like
Larry Levens?"

The young man seemed capable, although he was
probably too exhausted for her to depend on. "I have my gun if he's
not." She pushed the door open and stepped outside.

Boyd followed and halted her with a gentle
tug on her hand. "I don't mind staying, Claire."

"I don't want you there." And that was
that.

At Claire's cold look, Boyd let her go.
Miserable, he watched her walk off. He couldn't undo the damage
Karlton's hands had inflicted, but he could damned well make sure
it never happened again.

Silence greeted him when he stepped back into
his saloon. The men were waiting to see what he would do. The image
of Karlton wrenching Claire's arms fueled the fire in his gut, but
he shoved his fists into his pockets. Pounding Karlton wouldn't fix
anything.

He strode to the bar and faced his part-time
bartender. "You're fired."

Anger flashed in Karlton's eyes. "She was
sneaking in the back door to spy on us!"

"She was bringing Sailor back."

"So she says. We lost six regulars this week.
Eight if you count the Carson brothers who signed the widow's
damned pledge yesterday. I've lost ten percent of my sales this
week with Maynard's and Corbie's canceling their liquor orders. I
can't afford to lose that money. I think she was here to cause
trouble."

"So do I," said Peter Garven, a regular
patron at the saloon. Others nodded in agreement.

"I don't care why she was here," Boyd said.
"I won't tolerate any man abusing a lady in my presence."

"Those women you're protecting are killing
our business one man at a time," Karlton said. "They've even
petitioned to have our liquor license revoked."

"No one is going to take my license," Boyd
said, but he didn't feel as certain as he sounded. If the women
could convince drunks like the Carson brothers to sign their
pledge, who knew what trouble they could cause.

"Somebody's got to stop this nonsense before
it goes any further," Karlton insisted. Several patrons seconded
his argument.

"I'm sick of seeing that sea of bonnets every
time I sit down for an ale," Peter said. "We need to put a stop to
this nonsense."

"But not the way Karlton handled Mrs.
Ashier," Boyd countered, still itching to make the man pay for
hurting Claire. He pulled several bills from the till and handed
them to Karlton. "You're no longer welcome in my saloon," He faced
his patrons and raised his voice. "That goes for anyone who
manhandles a woman."

The patrons complained, and Karlton slammed
the cupboard so hard the back bar shuddered. Boyd clenched his
fists to keep from closing his hands around the man's throat.
Everyone who frequented Boyd's bar knew how much he cherished it.
He'd built and carved the back bar with his father. They'd watched
him polish the wood and clean the mirrors religiously each week for
the past two years. It was the shining jewel that lifted his saloon
above the ordinary. It was his pride and joy, and no one abused it
without facing his wrath.

Karlton stormed out the front door, leaving
behind a bar full of irritated men. Boyd took a long drink of his
ale, wondering how to handle a situation that was growing so ugly.
He needed to make Claire understand the mess she was creating, but
she would see him as a disgruntled saloon owner, not as a friend.
Talking with her wouldn't make a bit of difference.

But he had to do something before she marched
herself straight into trouble.

He needed to distract her somehow. He needed
to make the temperance cause less personal to her.

If she wasn't suffering directly from the
saloons, she would have less reason to close them down. She would
have less reason to consider him the enemy.

If he could divert Claire's attention away
from her ridiculous temperance cause, then maybe the other ladies
would lose steam and quit marching. If Claire wasn't bothered by
the noise from his saloon all week, maybe she would be more
forgiving on the weekends. If her business improved, she might have
less cause to want to close his saloon. And she might also have
more reason to spend time with him.

o0o

Claire was sitting in the parlor with Anna,
working on a quilt, when she heard the back door open. She tensed
and looked up to see where she'd left the fireplace poker.

Before she could leave her chair, Boyd
entered the parlor. His cheeks were flushed from the cold. His dark
hair glistened with melting snowflakes. "How are you feeling?"

She lowered her lashes, not wanting him to
see the truth. Karlton had hurt her with his strong hands, and
embarrassed her in front of a bar full of men. "Why are you
here?"

"To make sure you're all right. Where are
your boarders?"

"They're sleeping." His dark brows winged
upward. "It's just after supper. Rather early, isn't it?"

"They were tired from traveling. I'm trying
to keep the house quiet for them, so please go back to the saloon."
Though Boyd hadn't accosted her in any way, she was irritated by
his refusal to see the reality of their situation.

Instead of making a cryptic remark, he braced
his shoulder against the archway between the parlor and foyer.

"How would you ladies like to get out of the
house and go ice skating with me?"

She stared at him, wondering if she'd heard
him correctly. "How can you even ask after what just happened at
your saloon?"

"I'm trying to apologize for what Karlton
did."

"It should have never happened."

"I agree. That's why I fired him."

She was speechless—and touched. He'd
protected her. He'd fired Karlton.

"Go skating with me, and I'll close the
saloon tonight."

She exchanged a glance with Anna, who laid
the quilt square in her lap. "You haven't had an outing since the
cantata. You should go. What harm will it do to get out for the
evening? Especially if Boyd's willing to close the saloon."

With the saloon closed, she wouldn't have to
worry about the Ormands being disturbed. And if she got out of the
house, she wouldn't have to listen to their occasional noises that
told her they were definitely not sleeping.

Maybe while she was with Boyd, she could
convince him to close down completely. Maybe she and Anna could
break down his resistance while spending time with him. Wouldn't
that be a surprise for the temperance ladies?

She straightened in her chair. It would be
the perfect surprise.

With renewed purpose, she gave Boyd a
decisive nod. "All right. Let me find my grandmother's old skates
for Anna," she said, informing him that they wouldn't be going
alone.

"I'll close the saloon while you ladies get
dressed."

Twenty minutes later the three of them were
bundled in heavy coats, walking down Main Street, their feet
keeping time with the clacking blades of the skates that were slung
over Boyd's shoulder. As they chatted, the heaviness of the day
slowly lifted from Claire's shoulders. Why shouldn't she enjoy
herself? She was entitled to an evening out. What harm was there in
skating? Anna was with her. Boyd would act a gentleman in
public.

The thought of closing his saloon made her
smile.

"I'd give a night's earnings to know what
brought that look to your face," he said, his voice intimate and
teasing.

"You just did."

A sardonic grin lifted his lips. "I guess I
did."

She inched away, unwilling to let him turn
their outing into a romantic event. She wasn't fully recovered from
the kiss he'd given her in the kitchen.

She glanced at Anna to include her in the
conversation. "The first time I tried skating, I couldn't move my
feet without falling. I cried until Lida took pity on me and towed
me around the pond with her neck scarf."

"You're lucky your sister was so nice," Anna
said. My siblings would have left me standing there all night."

Claire stopped and stared at Anna. "I didn't
realize you had siblings."

"Four brothers and three sisters."

Claire exchanged a look with Boyd and knew
what a family man like him must be thinking. He and his brothers
worked together and helped one another. Anna's siblings should be
helping her out, not Claire. She shook her head, warning him not to
ask questions.

He gave her a discrete nod. "As soon as my
brothers and I learned to skate," he said, "we were out to kill
each other. Whoever was still standing or not bleeding by the end
of the night was the winner."

"Sounds dreadful." After being manhandled by
Karlton, Claire's bones ached just thinking about the roughhousing
that must have gone on.

"Those were some of the best times of my
life," Boyd said, his eyes filled with a warmth that made her want
to move closer.

But Claire warned herself to keep her
distance.

"Why did Duke chose a profession of upholding
the law, while you chose to own a saloon?" she asked.

"I craved more excitement than being a
lawman."

"Chasing criminals isn't exciting?"

"It's irritating, and I don't have the
patience for it. Duke has always been a peacemaker. I was the
troublemaker."

"You still are in this neighborhood."

His snort, and Anna's chuckle, made Claire
smile.

"What are your other brothers like?" she
asked.

He tilted his head and studied her. "Why all
the questions?"

"I'm curious about your family."

"There's not much to know. Radford is the
oldest. He fought in the war, became a hero, then came home and
stole my brother Kyle's fiancée."

She pursed her lips. "Are you intending to
make Radford look bad to make yourself look better?"

"No, I just gave you the short version of the
truth."

"That must have been a difficult time for
your mother," she said, hoping to lead their conversation in
another direction. She wanted to know more about this lady who'd
raised four well-respected sons.

"My mother stayed out of it, but yes, it was
a rough time for everybody, especially Radford and Kyle. They're
both married now, and their wives are having babies."

"Is Kyle spontaneous like you?"

"Gads no!" he said with a laugh. "He's
methodical and practical to the point of boorishness. I can't work
with him for more than an hour before I want to cuff him on the
head and wake him up. And I drive him crazy."

"I'm sure," she said wryly. "Despite your
similarities to Duke, then, you sound quite different from your
other brothers."

His smile faded and his eyes darkened. "I'm
not at all like them."

Claire exchanged a glanced with Anna, both
women realizing she'd stepped over some invisible line and
trespassed on personal territory.

They walked the last few yards in
silence.

A five-inch board rail surrounded a huge
sheet of ice that covered much of the east park. Wooden posts with
suspended lanterns glowed throughout the Common and shimmered
across the ice. People chatted as they crossed the park or circled
the rink. Children raced across the ice, shrieking with laughter.
Two old men sat on a bench playing harmonicas for the lovers who
couldn't see anything but each other.

Boyd guided them toward an empty bench, but
as soon as Claire was seated, he knelt and tugged off her boot.

She jerked her foot back. "I don't need
assistance."

Boyd winked at Anna. "I'll help you next, as
soon as this irritating woman sticks her foot in this skate." He
cupped his hand around Claire's toes.

"What are you doing?" she asked, glancing
around to see if anyone was watching.

"Warming your toes. They're freezing."

Boyd slipped the boot over Claire's foot and
laced it tight up to her ankle. He slipped the other boot on
without any teasing. She waited while he helped Anna on with her
skates, then she hurried to the rink.