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“Why don’t I drive us home and Nick can drink?” Declan tried to move the drinks in front of Nick, but he held out his hand, shaking his head.
“Sorry, pal, I’m the chosen one, which means you must drink.”
Declan picked up the shot and sniffed it, the spicy blast of cinnamon making his eyes water. He’d never been one to party in high school, and when he did go out for a drink with friends in college, it was usually a bottle of wine or beers, nothing harder than that.
He looked around the table at these men who had come out to help him today, not just because it was for Holly but because they considered Declan a friend. The friends he’d met in college wouldn’t even help him move when he’d asked, but these guys barely knew him and were buying him drinks, offering to listen to his problems.
Damn it, he didn’t want this. After two years of being stuck in this town again, he did not want to start liking it here.
Which had been part of the reason he’d run out on Holly earlier. The way she’d snuggled into him like it was the most natural motion in the world filled him with a sense of comfort and security. Having his arm around Holly felt like his happy place, and he couldn’t let himself think that way.
Declan picked up the shot, holding it aloft. “To friends who come when you call and aren’t afraid to climb ladders.”
“Which is a good thing, considering your luck with them,” Clark quipped, earning a glare from Declan before they tipped their drinks back. Declan’s shot went down his throat in a burning rush, settling in his stomach and every part of him felt the glow from the heat.
“At least I have a hard-enough head to take it,” Declan said with a grin.
“Is that hard head the reason you’re having a rough time with Holly?” Tony asked.
“I didn’t say it was Holly I was thinking about.”
“So there’s someone else twisting you up, then?” Pike said, pushing the other drink towards Declan. “Give this one a try, it will take that rasp out of your voice.”
Declan took a sip, his throat cooling immediately, and he smiled at the sweet coconut flavor of the drink. “Delicious. There’s no one else. I mean, there’s no Holly or anyone. I may be leaving Mistletoe so it doesn’t make sense to get involved with anyone.”
“If you did, Holly would be the one,” Tony said. “She doesn’t do relationships.”
“Then again, neither did Noel until Nick got his hooks into her,” Pike said.
“You’re walking on thin ice tonight, Pike,” Nick said.
“Hey, I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. The two of you are meant to be. It’s just taking you a little longer to convince your woman to tie the knot than it did Clark.”
Clark sat forward, obviously trying to keep the peace. “I think that everyone comes with their own baggage and couples take the next step when they are meant to.”
Nick glared at Pike. “I’d marry Noel in a second, but she’s still not convinced marriage is in the cards for her, although she’s talked about kids a couple of times. I figure we’ve got time and if we never take those steps, I’ll be an amazing uncle to Jace and any other rugrats you guys have.”
“Thanks, man,” Clark said gruffly. “That means a lot.”
Declan knew enough about Clark that his parents were pretty much out of his life, and his brother, Sam, and son, Jace, were the only people he’d cared about before Clark took the job at the Winters Christmas Tree Farm. He’d formed his own family and for whatever reason he’d included Declan in it.
“Hey Declan, what did you mean about leaving? I thought you were running the hardware store now?” Anthony asked.
“My dad’s talking about selling it. Since he’s retired and it’s not really what I want to be doing.”
“Seriously? That’s a great building.” Pike shot Tony a look before he continued, “What is it you want to do? If it’s not running the hardware store.”
“I want my own art gallery one day, but I don’t think I’ll be able to do that in a town like Mistletoe. Maybe teach.”
“Are you trying to say we aren’t cultured?” Tony asked.
“I think he is.” Pike set his drink down and cracked the knuckles on each hand, his expression blank. “He’s calling us a bunch of uncouth rednecks.”
Declan’s eyes widened, and he stammered, “No, I mean—I just don’t think arts are as appreciated as other things—” Declan realized the men at the table were holding back their laughter and glared. “You guys are a bunch of assholes.”
Nick smirked. “Maybe so, but we are hilarious a-holes.”
“I don’t know why you think Idaho doesn’t appreciate artists. Sun Valley and Boise have a ton of art galleries.”
