Christmas Male Read Online Free PDF

making her shiver. She recognized that hard, no-nonsense baritone and the confident knelling gait on the floorboards. Miles. He towered over six feet tall, and every inch of him radiated leashed male fury. "This ends now. Leave her alone or I'll sweep the floor with all four of you."
    He meant it. It was a threat he could make good on, and it showed on the faces of the other four men.
    "Meant no harm, McClintock." The bartender took a step back, nodding respectfully. "I'll, uh, just go get that bottle of Scotch for your pa."
    "We were just havin' us some fun," Lester explained with a gulp. He dropped into his chair and took a few fortifying slugs from his tankard.
    "Yeah, what else are women for but for havin' a little fun?" Delbert circled away, his hands twitchy at his sides like it was hard for him to give up the thought of overpowering a lady. "We weren't hurtin' nobody."
    "Hey, guess she's
my
woman." Chester puffed out his chest, just drunk enough not to be thinking straight. "I got claim to her. Yeah, honey, you wanna get married?"
    Mocking her. Lusting after her. Yeah, Miles saw it all written on that lazy lowlife's ugly face. Rage beat through him as he crossed half the room in five strides, grabbed Chester by the collar and hauled him upward, lifting him off his feet. Let him hang there, he thought dispassionately, let him gasp for air. He frowned. "Maybe you need me to teach you how to respect a lady."
    The drunk shifted his eyes side to side, trying to shake his head, so Miles let go. Chester landed with a wheeze and a gasp on his knees, red-faced and angry.
    Oh, well. Miles took a moment to stare each Collins brother in the eye. "I don't want any more trouble with you boys. Is that understood?"
    Lester gulped. Delbert nodded. Chester grunted, climbing warily to his feet.
    "Here's the scotch." Ed returned with the finest bottle in the place, he'd ordered a crate from back East just for Pa and Grandpop. "No charge this time. Sorry, Miles."
    He doubted it, but he didn't comment. He took the bottle, turned around and found the woman wasn't behind him. She'd slipped away through the open door but, hell, she wasn't his responsibility. He didn't know why he looked for her the instant he stepped foot onto the boardwalk or why, when he saw her sitting on the wooden step in the snow, his chest seemed to come alive with an emotion other than anger and bitterness. Sympathy.
    So, he felt sorry for her. That didn't mean he was getting soft. He pounded across the boardwalk and eased down beside her. Ice and snow beat at him. He ignored it, tipping his hat, angling it against the wind. She stiffened, scooting away from him an inch. She probably didn't want him to know she was crying.
    Well, he didn't need to look at her to know it. She seemed dejected sitting there, slender shoulders slumped with her head down, sniffling and blinking trying to hold her emotions back. He had to hand it to her, a lot of women would have thrown a dramatic scene (he knew, because he'd courted those women) and gone on about how she'd been wronged. Or maybe put on a big display of self-pity, trying to manipulate the men around her. But not this lady. She simply sat there, fighting for control of her emotions.
    He had to like her for that. He knew how it felt to be hurt, to have nothing but broken dreams.
    "You all right?" he asked, pitching his voice low and gruff, so she wouldn't mistake his question for weakness. So she wouldn't think he would be an easy mark for any scheme she might be cooking up. Who knew what went on inside a woman's head, even one that wasn't prone to drama?
    "Yes, thank you." She nodded, her voice wobbly with emotion. Her lashes were damp and, in this weather, were likely to start freezing. If only she didn't look like a lost, helpless thing, like a puppy, then he would have been able to walk away.
    Boot steps knelled on the boardwalk, approaching, growing louder. Miles felt that twinge of warning on the back of his neck a second