“Thanks. I think.”
Though both women were wearing dark jeans, Arianne’s top was nothing like her friend’s fuzzy pastel sweater. Arianne had second-guessed her first choice—a long-sleeved V-neck—because of how revealing it would be when she leaned across the pool table. She didn’t need to distract her opponents with cleavage to win. Instead, she’d gone with a black turtleneck that looked fairly dramatic with her coloring. She’d braided her hair and selected a pair of long silver earrings Rachel had given her for Christmas one year.
The noise hit them before they’d even reached the front door—a buzz of voices, billiard balls clicking against each other as they spun across the green and the guitar-heavy angst of an ’80s hair-band ballad. Inside, Arianne felt absorbed by the sound and energy of the crowd.
“There they are,” Quinn said from behind her.
The men had already secured a pool table and were selecting cues. Gabe took a practice shot, and Arianne’s mouth went dry as she watched the play of muscles beneath his T-shirt. The scuffed leather jacket he’d worn the other night was draped over a nearby chair.
Quinn laughed suddenly. “I feel like I missed the uniform memo.”
“What?” With disciplined effort, Arianne did not check out Gabe’s denim-clad backside as he bent again.
“You two look like twins. Or at least partners in crime,” she amended.
Gabe and Arianne were both clad in monochromatic black. Patrick was more colorful in a red-and-blue-striped shirt with khakis. He brightened visibly when he spotted the women approaching.
“Quinn! Ari. Looks like we just beat the rush,” Patrick observed. “This was the last table available.”
Gabe nodded his hello. “Ladies.” His gaze flicked from Quinn to Arianne. His features were unreadable, but Arianne could have sworn that his glance lingered. Her skin warmed. Did he like what he saw?
“Can I get either of you a drink?” Patrick volunteered.
“I’ll take a beer.” Arianne pulled a five-dollar bill out of her pocket.
“I’ll come with you,” Quinn said.
Patrick grinned at her, then turned to Gabe. “Ready for a refill?”
“Nah, I’m good.” He’d placed the triangle on the felt and was racking the balls.
The two teachers headed for the bar, leaving Arianne and Gabe alone.
“I hope this is okay with you,” she said. “Quinn and I joining your boys’ night?”
He raised his eyes just long enough to give her a pointed look. Was he implying that it was unlike her to worry about boundaries?
She cleared her throat. “You got my message about the plank and ball pit? We’re officially a ‘go.’”
“Yep.”
“Have you had time to think about the actual ship yet?”
“Yep.”
She walked toward the wall where the cues hung. “So, are you any good at pool?” If he said yep, she was bashing him with one of the sticks.
“Not bad.” But there was a spark of underlying mischief in his tone that made her suspect he was being modest. “You?”
“I hold my own.” She studied a stick, then rolled it over the table to make sure it wasn’t warped. “My brothers taught me to play. Tanner used to be the black sheep of our family. For a while, I thought he might skip college and just hustle pool for a living. But he went on to get a prestigious degree and a job in finance. Just goes to show people can change, huh?”
Gabe leaned against the side of the table, his expression pained. “If that’s your way of suggesting I—”
“I wasn’t ‘suggesting’ anything, only making conversation.” She peered up at him with innocent eyes. “Do you always think everything’s about you?”
He shook his head at her denial. “Like I’m going to trust someone dressed as a junior cat burglar?”
“You’re one to talk,” she rejoined, raking her gaze over him. “Quinn said we look like twins.”
That startled a rusty laugh out of him. “Arianne, we couldn’t be less alike if we tried.”
After Patrick and Quinn returned with the beverages, it soon became clear that Gabe and Arianne had at least one thing in common—they were definitely better at pool than their companions.
Quinn reached blindly toward the wall rack and grabbed the closest cue stick to her. “Do we have to play by the formal rules of calling a shot for it to count?” She wrinkled her nose. “If I have to give up the ones I make out of sheer dumb luck, I could be in trouble.”
“How about for the first game, while we’re getting warmed up, we only call the last pocket to win?” Patrick suggested. He grinned boyishly. “I’m out of practice, but even when I played, I was never exactly pool-shark material. No pointing and laughing, I beg you.”
“And,” Quinn added, “no accidentally knocking your opponents’ balls in just to give yourself competition.”
Arianne studied the ceiling. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m starting to think,” Patrick said, “that Quinn and I should not be on the same team. No offense, Quinn.”
“None taken,” she agreed cheerfully. “It would be a slaughter.”
“So how do we want to pair up?” Arianne asked. “Girls against guys?”
“Or you and Patrick can take on Quinn and me,” Gabe suggested.
That met with everyone’s approval, and they flipped a coin to see which team would break. Patrick did an all right job with that task, although no balls were pocketed. Quinn put in a stripe but scratched in the process. Arianne knocked in two solids before misjudging a bank, and then it was Gabe’s turn. He sank three consecutive balls, one of which was a beautiful behind-the-back shot.
“All right, now you’re just showing off,” Arianne chided.
He dazzled her with a lazy smile. “Maybe.”
It was criminal that he had a smile like that and so seldom used it.
On the other hand, at least he wasn’t abusing its power—irresponsibly flashing it at unsuspecting women. When he grinned at her, Arianne couldn’t even look away. She wanted to go to him, run her thumb over the dimpled brackets along his mouth, brush her finger over those lips…
“Um, guys?” Quinn’s voice was hesitant. “It’s still our team’s turn, right?”
Embarrassment warmed Arianne as she realized she’d lost track of time and place staring at Gabe. Then again, he’d been staring back. His smile had disappeared, but he looked no less sexy without it. Stop gawking already! Arianne whirled around to the railing where her beer sat. She sipped slowly, taking a moment to compose herself. With her back turned, she missed Gabe’s shot.
Apparently so did he. She caught his soft “damn” and smiled against her glass. Her flustered reaction to him wouldn’t be nearly as humiliating if he was equally rattled.
They completed another round of turns with Patrick making the only shot. Though Quinn missed, she made strategic progress by leaving absolutely nothing for Arianne. Gabe lined up a shot, but put too much spin on the ball, ricocheting it off the corner tip instead of into the pocket.
He ran a hand through his hair. “Patrick, you’re up. I believe it’s my turn to get drinks? Anyone need anything?”
When Quinn and Patrick both accepted a second round, Arianne slid off the stool where she’d been perched. “I’ll help carry.”
Of course you will, Gabe thought ruefully. Last week he’d had the exasperated thought that Arianne Waide was difficult to escape. She had a certain aura of inevitability, but he no longer found that annoying. When had that changed?
Maybe at Tuesday’s festival meeting, when she’d been so protective of grandmotherly Mrs. Momsen and so sincere in her gratitude. In small doses, Arianne’s exuberance could be refreshing.
Or maybe his feelings toward her had softened tonight when he’d caught sight of her in the formfitting turtleneck. It was difficult to think of her as nothing more than an adorable pain in the butt when she looked so artlessly sophisticated.
And he wasn’t the only one who noticed. As they walked through the crowd, Gabe wondered if she was aware of the way men’s gazes followed her. It occurred to him for the first time to be surprised that she, unlike her happily married brothers, was single.
They reached the bar, politely elbowing their way into the waiting throng.
“Lot more crowded tonight than on Wednesdays,” Gabe noted.
She slanted an assessing look at him, searching for something.
“What?”
“I have a question that’s none of my business.”
“And you’re showing restraint and decided not to ask?”
“Hell, no. I was just debating the best way to broach it.” She smiled at him unrepentantly.
Gabe smothered a laugh, not wanting to encourage her. “You’re something else.”
“Lovable,” she supplied promptly. “That’s what my family calls me.”
“Maybe when you’re in earshot.”
“Why, Mr. Sloan, did you just make a joke?”
“No, I was serious.” But he grinned down at her.
“So why don’t we see more of you in here on the weekends?” she asked. “You used to drop by on occasional Fridays and Saturdays.”
“My God, you really are a stalker.”
The blush climbing her cheeks belied the dismissive way she rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not like I memorized your schedule. It’s just that you don’t exactly blend into the crowd.”
His humor faded. She didn’t know how accurate the statement was. Even before his escalating flirtation and doomed one-night stand with Shay had made him an outcast in Mistletoe, he’d never even felt as though he belonged in his own home. He had early memories of feeling self-conscious in school when the class worked on crafting homemade gifts for Mother’s Day and events where parents were invited to participate.
“I meant because you’re tall,” Arianne said, the soft apology in her voice like a blade.
He flinched away from her pity. “Well, we can’t all be short.”
“What can I get—” The bartender, who had just handed over two drinks to the people in front of them, began the question by rote but stopped when he saw it was Gabe. “Usual?”
“No, make it a beer tonight,” Gabe said. “Four beers.”
The man did a double take. “Really?”
Gabe glared.
“Coming right up.”
Would Arianne attribute the man’s surprise to Gabe’s actually being here with others?
“I normally stick to sodas,” he found himself explaining.
“You don’t drink?”
“I just ordered a beer, didn’t I?” How could someone like Arianne Waide, with her cheerful can-do attitude and supportive family and friends, understand why Gabe felt like he couldn’t indulge in the luxury of relaxing, of just letting go? In the past year especially, he’d felt compelled to stay on his guard. It wasn’t that he was afraid of fueling gossip. It was more…Anger, he realized.
Tara Hunaker hiring him as a flimsy ploy to seduce him, Mike Renault—the closest thing Gabe had to a friend—moving to Athens over the summer, Gabe’s own certainty that his father was never going to forgive him for sins real or imagined. If he wasn’t guarded with his emotions, they might spill over in dark ways. I should’ve left a long time ago.
The bartender passed over their beers, and Gabe handed Arianne hers. “Cheers.”
Back at the pool table they found Patrick and Quinn deep in conversation. By their body language, it was easy to see that the attraction between them was mutual, and Gabe wasn’t the least surprised when Patrick sheepishly asked if Arianne and Gabe would mind playing the next game alone.
“Somehow Quinn tricked me into agreeing to dance.” He smiled into the woman’s eyes. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you—I’m actually better at pool than dancing.”
She laughed. “I’m good enough on the dance floor to compensate.”
“Lead on,” he said, looking as if he’d follow her into traffic if that’s what she wanted.
Arianne watched them go, and Gabe noticed the wistful tinge to her expression. Again he wondered why she was single.
Gabe could think of a dozen guys easy who would be happy to date her. The thought set his teeth on edge, and he grabbed the triangle. “You know how to play nine ball?”
“Of course.”
“Best out of three?”
She held out her hand. “I’ll rack.”
He passed over the triangle, and their fingers brushed. There was no reason, except for prolonged celibacy, for his blood to beat harder in his veins. After all, it was a mere touch, not the full-body contact of her hug the other night. Still, as he watched her set the balls in the appropriate diamond, he couldn’t quite marshal his physical reaction or the direction of his thoughts. Arianne was a beautiful woman with a very sexy body.
And a hell of a pool player, he was forced to admit when she beat him handily in the first round with a four-nine combination.
He raised his beer in salute. “Impressive.”
She grinned over her shoulder, reaching for her own drink. “Hey, I have moves.”
“I’ll bet.” He’d said that aloud? He busied himself setting up the next game to avoid her reaction.
She broke. After he’d bent to take his turn, she said, “You know when I said earlier that I’d seen you in here on the weekends? Your height wasn’t the only reason I noticed you.”
His shot went wild. Was she flirting with him? The prospect was far more tempting than it should have been.
“No comments from the peanut gallery while I’m shooting,” he admonished.
“All right.” She stepped forward and called the one in the side left pocket. Then she stalled under the pretext of aiming. “You’re a memorable guy, Gabe.”
“I’m aware,” he grated. First thing tomorrow, he was calling his cousins, calling Mike Renault, calling any damn person who might be able to help him make an anonymous fresh start somewhere.
“You turned down Candy Beemis,” she said, sounding awestruck.
“If you say so. Take your freaking shot already.”
She missed and moved aside, seeming unfazed. “I was buying a drink and heard her ask you to dance. You told her no. That was extremely memorable and possibly the only refusal she’s ever received. Candy’s the most attractive woman in Mistletoe.”
Gabe lined up his shot and told himself to keep his eye on the ball. Instead, he lifted his head, holding Arianne’s gaze. “She’s not even close.”
Arianne sucked in a breath and went silent. Thank God. He knocked in the first five balls. She sank the six, but just barely. He knew even as she called the seven-nine combo that she wouldn’t make it.
He won the game.
“Guess I deserved that,” she muttered. “I let—”
“Arianne?”
They both turned at the masculine voice. Shane McIntyre was approaching—slightly unsteady on his feet—his round face a scrolling billboard of emotions. Surprise, hurt, indignation. More hurt.
“Shane.”
Gabe recognized the note of pity in Arianne’s voice. He’d heard it directed at him earlier in the evening and could just imagine how it abraded the other man’s nerves. Had she dumped the guy? Gabe didn’t remember hearing their names linked together, but then, he wasn’t exactly in the loop.
The man curled his lip. “I don’t believe this,” he said, his words faintly slurred. “What are you doing with him?”
Arianne narrowed her eyes, all traces of sympathy erased. “I assume that question was rhetorical because we both know I don’t owe you any explanations for how I spend my time.”
“Right.” He gave a vicious nod and took a step forward. “Because I’m no one important, just someone who cares about you.”
Gabe laid a hand on the guy’s shoulder, determined that he wasn’t getting a single inch closer to Ari in his current state. “McIntyre, maybe you should save this discussion for later and just let the lady enjoy her evening.”
Shane rounded on him. “Let her enjoy you, you mean? You’re not worthy of taking her trash out, you son of a—” He broke off, eyes wide, at the sight of Gabe’s arm drawn back.
Gabe, who hadn’t even realized he’d made a fist, was far more horrified than his would-be target. Pole-axed, he dropped his hand to his side. He glanced toward Arianne, wondering if she was appalled by his behavior, and noticed that the pool players at the neighboring tables had paused in their games. Some had drinks in their hands and were surreptitiously watching over the rims while others stared openly. What did they see? A longtime troublemaker agitating one of their own?
As if Shane had sensed a change in energy, he squared his shoulders in challenge. “What’s it going to be, Sloan? Should we take this outside?”
“Of course not!” Arianne interjected. “What is this, junior high?”
At her contemptuous tone, Shane lost his smirk. “Sorry, Arianne. But—
She stepped between the two men. “We’re friends. And as a friend, I’m telling you to find Nick or Josh to drive you home.”
“And leave you with—”
“Now,” she said. “Before you do anything else you’ll regret tomorrow.”
Shane glared at both of them, but wisely shut up. The moment he melted back into the crowd, Arianne exhaled in relief.
“I’ll be back in a sec,” she told Gabe, betraying no hint of how she felt about his interference. “I want to make sure he asks someone for a lift.”
People were no longer staring, but the buzz of their speculative conversations scratched at Gabe’s skin. He downed the rest of his beer, wishing he were anywhere else in the world right now. As he set down the empty bottle, he saw Quinn and Patrick returning, their faces flushed with happiness and exertion. He felt like a miscast actor in someone else’s movie. He didn’t belong in this quaint foursome scene. He was more comfortable in his perennial role as outsider. Arianne should be here with Quinn, Patrick and someone like McIntyre. Well, not McIntyre—he’d behaved like a jackass tonight. Arianne deserved better. Than either of us.
He attempted a smile at Quinn, but doubted it was convincing. “Hey, you guys, do me a favor? Tell Arianne that I’m gonna get going. But I’ll see everyone Saturday.” They were supposed to start initial festival setup downtown.
“But…” Quinn bit her lip. “Sure. Okay.”
Gabe nodded to Patrick. “Thanks for inviting me, man.”
Despite how the evening had turned out, Patrick had been the first person in a long time to extend a simple, no-strings-attached gesture of friendship. Gabe didn’t count Arianne’s asking him to dinner. She was anything but simple.
As he passed the bar, he heard her call him but continued his measured strides toward the door, hoping she would assume the noise drowned her out and just let him go. Good luck with that plan. He may not have known Arianne long, but he knew her better than that.
She must have rushed, elbowing her way through the boisterous mass of people, to catch up with him just as he stepped out onto the sidewalk.
“You’re leaving,” she said, full of accusation. “Haven’t we already discussed the futility of trying to run away?”
He looked her in the eye, then wished he hadn’t. Her fierce expression made him feel like a coward. “I’m not running anywhere. I came, I shot pool, I finished my drink. I’m going home.” Home. The word burned like acid on his tongue.
She reached up and cupped his cheek. That contact burned, too, in a far more bittersweet way. “I’m sorry about what happened earlier.”
Ducking away from her touch, he gave a short bark of laughter. “You’re the only one who doesn’t have a reason to apologize.”
“Then please let me apologize on my friend’s behalf.” She sighed, her expression earnest. “Shane’s a good guy, honestly.”
Even as Gabe appreciated her loyalty, it stuck in his craw the way his fellow Mistletonians made excuses for each other, gave each other the benefit of the doubt. Usually.
“I hurt his feelings earlier this week,” she added, “and he took it out on you.”
Gabe didn’t doubt she was telling the truth, but would McIntyre have behaved that way tonight if it had been anyone else shooting pool with Arianne? “He took it out on me because he doesn’t like me.”
“True.” Arianne pursed her lips. “Which is weird because you’re so warm, cuddly and lovable.”
She’d gone from contrition to criticism? He clenched his truck keys in his fingers. “I don’t need this.”
“Are you sure?” she persisted. “Don’t reach out to people because they deserve it—hell, maybe they don’t—do it for yourself.”
Who was she to dole out unsolicited advice? She’d obviously confused herself with a self-help guru. And confused him with someone who cared. “Good night, Arianne.”
He stepped off the curb.
“Gabe?”
Against his better judgment, he turned. “Yes?” The single syllable held fourteen years of weariness.
She stood on her toes, sacrificing balance for height and letting herself stumble against him. His arms went around her reflexively. She placed a quick kiss just to the left of his mouth—if he turned his head a fraction of an inch, his lips could capture hers—and then stepped away.
“Thank you for a wonderful time,” she said breathlessly.
Chapter Seven
“Brenna!” Arianne gratefully slowed to a walk. Her brother David swore that jogging was an excellent way to clear one’s head and relieve stress. David was obviously out of his mind because she was every bit as tense as she had been when she’d climbed out of bed an hour ago. Plus, now her calves ached.
On the opposite sidewalk, local pet-sitter Brenna Pierce waved with her free hand. In her other, she held the handle of a double dog leash. Two dachshunds waddled out in front of her.
After a quick check for nonexistent traffic, Arianne crossed the street. “Good to see you. Have fun on your trip?”
The redhead grinned broadly from within her hoodie. “It was fantastic. Adam’s kids are as great as he is. He and I will both be there tomorrow to help.”
“Thanks, we can use the extra hands. Especially now.” As the two women fell in step together, Arianne explained how they’d decided to add a partial pirate ship deck. And who would be building it.
“Gabriel Sloan, huh? Your influence,” Brenna deduced.
“I did have something to do with it,” Arianne admitted. The question was, would he honor the commitment she’d bullied him into accepting?
You don’t know when to stop, David had once warned when she was younger. At the time, she was pretty sure her oh-so-mature response had been to stick out her tongue. Now she conceded that he had a point.
Why hadn’t she allowed Gabe his dignified retreat last night? Or, having cornered him, why couldn’t she simply have apologized for Shane’s temporary idiocy and left it at that without lecturing? Of course, neither of those sins compared to the crowning audacity of kissing him good-night.
If she were going to scare him away from the festival for the sake of a kiss, she should have at least made it worth it. That reckless peck had done nothing more than whet an impossible appetite.
She covered her face with her hands and groaned behind her fingers.
“Problem?” Brenna asked, amusement lacing her curiosity. She stopped, letting the dogs sniff between a hydrangea bush and a Bradford pear tree.
Arianne took a deep breath. “Impulse control issues, a stubborn streak longer than the Chattahoochee, no common sense whatsoever…Take your pick.”
“I wasn’t going to pry, but does this have anything to do with some kind of commotion at On Tap? Adam and I dropped in for a drink after I’d done my final pet-sit for the night,” Brenna admitted. “No one said anything directly to me, but I thought I overheard someone mention that you’d been there earlier on a date. With Gabe.”
It was Mistletoe. People probably would have commented on Arianne being there with Gabe even without Shane’s creating a scene. Still, she glanced skyward in the hope that maybe her family wouldn’t hear any rumors about what had happened. She didn’t want them interrogating her further about Gabe, nor did she want their friendships with Shane jeopardized over a lapse in judgment and one too many drink specials.
“Commotion might be a bit of an exaggeration,” she objected. “Date isn’t entirely accurate, either. We were both there playing pool with Quinn and Patrick Flannery, the new teacher at Whiteberry. Met him yet? He’s a cutie.”
“As cute as Gabe?” Brenna asked, thwarting the attempted subject change.
Gabe Sloan couldn’t be cute even if he were wearing a pair of fuzzy bunny ears and held a baby in each arm. He was sexy and withdrawn and not currently a candidate for a healthy, romantic relationship. Arianne wanted to help him heal in any way she could, but she had too much self-preservation to date a guy that wounded.
“Patrick and Gabe are both good-looking in different ways,” she said diplomatically. “So it’s difficult to compare them.”
“And you’re sure you aren’t dating Gabe?” Brenna asked.
Arianne laughed. “Wouldn’t I know if I were?”
“Right. Sorry. It’s just that you’ve made it clear that you find him attractive. Aren’t you the same woman who counseled me over the summer that if you like a guy, you go out there and get him?”
Arianne opened her mouth to explain that it wasn’t like that between her and Gabe. “I kissed him.”
“Ha!” Brenna’s exclamation got a companionable yip from one of the dogs. “Now that sounds more like the Arianne I know. Did he kiss you back?”
“It wasn’t really that kind of kiss. Just a quick peck to end the evening.”
“In other words, a traditional kiss good-night?” Brenna spared her the obvious statement that their evening sounded an awful lot like a date, but her expression spoke volumes. “You planning to kiss him again?”
“Definitely not.”
Planning it? No.
Fantasizing about what it would be like if Gabe ever let himself get carried away, the sensation of having all that sensual intensity focused solely on her?
Well, that was a different story.
THERE WAS NOTHING more absurd than three large men who were waiting to pounce, trying to look inconspicuous.
As soon as Arianne entered the store, she spotted her brothers and father clumped around the register. The urge to spin on her heel and go right back the way she came was nearly overwhelming.
“Don’t start,” she cautioned.
Tanner had the gall to look puzzled. “Is that any way to greet your family? I, for one, don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
Zachariah guffawed. “Nice try, son, but I raised her smarter than that. We wanted to talk to you, Ari.”
Like this was a newsflash? “Do I get to at least take off my coat and pour some coffee before the Spanish Inquisition?”
“Is it true Shane and Gabe came to blows over you?” David asked, concern creasing his handsome face. “See whoever you like, but I want to know my little sister is safe and not dating some nut with a volatile temper.”
“No one came to blows! Honestly. You know I love Mistletoe, but the local grapevine needs to simmer down.” She shrugged out of her jacket and decided to go for that coffee. If they wanted to follow, fine, but she hadn’t slept well and she wasn’t postponing her caffeine fix to answer ludicrous allegations.
No one trailed her down the hall, but she couldn’t stay in the back forever. She was officially on the clock and would need to open the store in ten minutes. Besides, since the topic had already been introduced, she wanted to find out exactly what was being spread around town.
“No punches were thrown,” she reiterated when she returned. “Just some angry words. And Shane instigated those. Did the rumor mill manage to get that right?” Or were people who didn’t have the facts blaming Gabe for events he hadn’t caused?
“Shane picked a fight with Sloan?” David asked. “Not very bright.”
“Actually, Shane picked a fight with me.”
“Even less bright,” Tanner said, a dangerous gleam in his light eyes. “Should we kick his ass?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Arianne said. “I don’t need anyone riding to my rescue.” She didn’t plan ever to admit that there was a tiny, uncivilized part of her that had thrilled to the idea of Gabe physically defending her. Not that she needed to be protected from Shane.
“It wasn’t that big a deal,” she said. “Shane was upset over my rejecting him at the beginning of the week. Mix a bruised ego with a bad day and a few beers, you get one guy with a big mouth, casting aspersions on my taste in men and character in general.”
Since she’d ruled out the bloodthirsty approach, David went for the pragmatic. “We can ban him from the store. No one talks to a Waide like that.”
“What about a Sloan?” she mused, feeling that protective rush again, the one that made her want to take Gabe into her arms and soothe him with kisses. Except that her imagined scenario only remained soothing for about ten seconds before it blazed into something far more primal and far less altruistic.
“Huh?” Tanner asked. “What are you talking about?”
“You said no one talks to a Waide like that. What makes us special? You don’t think Gabe deserves the same courtesy?”
The men exchanged glances, startled by her outburst.
“Never mind,” she said. “I was just trying to make a hypothetical point. Can we get to work now?”
“You heard her,” Zachariah said. “Let’s get this place open for business. That Alaskan cruise your mother wants to take isn’t going to pay for itself.”
Arianne smiled gratefully at her father. He and David went in the back to switch the phone from its prerecorded message over to live calls and get things up and running in the office. Tanner gathered up his coat and briefcase, preparing to go.
“Bye, shortie.” He ruffled her hair, but then stood there, searching her face instead of leaving.
“I’m fine,” she said through her teeth. “Just annoyed at Shane’s macho proprietary B.S. He had no right to treat Gabe like that.”
Tanner laughed. “My guess is that Gabe can take care of himself.”
He shouldn’t have to. No one should go through life alone, she thought, wildly grateful that she hadn’t been an only child. Gabe’s mother had died during his childhood, and she didn’t think his father had remarried. Were both Sloan men lonely? Maybe she shouldn’t worry so much about helping him reconnect with the random and assorted citizens of Mistletoe and simply help him build a stronger relationship with his dad. She couldn’t imagine where she’d be without her own family.
She made shooing motions toward the door. “Be gone already.”
“Okay. But I’ll be back. This conversation isn’t necessarily over.”
“You mean, you’re going to be obnoxious about this?”
“Put yourself in my shoes,” he said. “If you were worried about me or David, would you leave us alone to muddle through it ourselves or butt in with nosy questions and blunt advice?”
Arianne sighed. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
GABE WORKED FEVERISHLY on Friday morning, trying to squeeze an entire day’s productivity into half his normal hours…and trying to take his mind off Arianne’s surprising exit last night. He thought he’d be the one to walk away, yet she’d kissed him, then disappeared back inside before he could even process what had happened.
A wonderful time, she’d said. Which part? His being socially awkward with her, nearly decking a friend of hers or leaving without a proper goodbye?
Admit it, you were having a good time, too. Before Shane’s interruption, Gabe had enjoyed shooting pool, bantering with Arianne.
He worked through his normal lunch hour, then called it a day around two o’clock, wanting the afternoon to explore new opportunities. At home he put in calls to a distant cousin and to Mike, letting them know he’d appreciate it if they kept their ears to the ground regarding job openings or reasonably priced housing. He even phoned Nicole Jones, although he experienced an irrational slash of guilt when he heard her voice.
Arianne’s face flashed in his mind, which made him gruff when he answered Nicole’s delighted greeting.
“It’s been too long since we talked,” Nicole scolded. “You know, Atlanta’s not that far away, if you ever want to get away for a weekend.”
There was a time when he would have taken her up on what she was offering. He’d met Nicole last year, when she’d been a recent divorcée on temporary leave from her law firm and in town to restore and sell the house her great-aunt had left her. She’d hired Gabe and they’d hit it off almost immediately. They’d both known from the onset that it would be a brief affair—she was still going through the grieving process for her marriage—but he’d never regretted the time they spent together.
Talking to her now, he suspected that they’d only be platonic friends going forward. He felt no spark of desire. “Actually, Nic, what I want is to get away permanently. I’m job-hunting. Can I use you as a reference?”
“Absolutely! You probably doubled what I would have made on that house.”
They talked for a few minutes, and it was comfortable. Like a flannel shirt. Nothing like the prickly, charged encounters he had with Arianne.
Damn it. What was that, the fiftieth time he’d thought of her today? Determined to put her out of his mind, he booted up his computer, checking a few occupational sites and tweaking his résumé. As he surfed some job postings, he had an idea. What if he found a college campus that had open positions in the grounds crew or repair and maintenance? Did university employees get discounts on tuition? Once upon a time, he’d planned to take classes, get a degree. Sure, he was older than the typical freshman, but maybe it wasn’t too late.
If he were going to be taken seriously as an applicant anywhere, however, he would need more references than Nicole Jones. He would have to ask some people from Mistletoe. He decided to start with Mindy Nelson, a widow who not only hired Gabe regularly, but who’d told him once that her brother-in-law, owner of a small residential construction company in Florida, had been impressed with the deck Gabe had built for her.
Mindy worked over at the Mistletoe senior center. Gabe looked up the number in the phone book and called.
“Mindy Nelson,” she chirped.
“Hi, it’s Gabe Sloan—”
“Gabriel! I was just talking about you. Dele Momsen and I had lunch together and she told me about how you’re helping with her walk-the-plank idea. I’m sure you’ll do a wonderful job. I’ve always been so impressed with your work.”
He blinked at the effusive praise. “Thank you, ma’am. That makes what I called you about a little easier. I’m interested in pursuing other career possibilities and wondered if I could list you as a—”
“Oh, where are you interviewing?”
“Nowhere yet. I’m putting together applications.”
“For places in town?” she asked, sounding confused. “Will you still have your own business on the side?”
“Actually, I want to look outside Mistletoe. I think it’s time for me to move on.”
“What? Oh, no! We’ll hate to see you go.”
He doubted many people would share that sentiment, but he was touched nonetheless. “I’ll miss you, too. You’re one of my favorite customers.”
“I don’t suppose that if I withheld my recommendation we’d get to keep you?”
He laughed at the possibility of Mindy Nelson, who couldn’t even kill a bug—he’d seen her catch them in jars to release outside—scheming to keep him from leaving. “No, I’m definitely going some time after the fall festival.” Wouldn’t it be nice to move over the winter and be settled before January? A new life in the new year. Perfect.
“I suppose I’m morally obligated,” she grumbled. “A man with a work ethic like yours deserves all the praise he can get. But I’m not happy about this!”
After a moment’s debate, he decided to press his luck. “Then would I be completely insensitive to ask you for your brother-in-law’s contact information? I’ve never really pictured myself living in Florida, but who knows? Maybe the Sunshine State would be the perfect place for me.”
“Maybe,” she said slowly. “I’ll call him this weekend and put in a good word for you. I can’t guarantee he’s hiring, but he has nothing to lose by talking to you.”
“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. Have a good weekend, Mrs. Nelson.”
“You, too. Oh, and, Gabriel? Don’t you pay any mind to that Shane McIntyre. I know his mom, and he was a good kid, but always been something of a hothead. Anyone with half a brain can see Arianne’s not right for him, but I suppose he’ll just have to figure that out for himself. It’ll blow over.”
“I…Thanks,” he said lamely. He told himself he was used to being at the center of Mistletoe gossip, but maybe you never truly adjusted to being the center of other people’s conversations—the uncomfortable scrutiny, the half-truths.
He was hardly astonished to discover that news of last night’s argument was making the rounds, but he was pleasantly surprised to find someone had taken his side.
Chapter Eight
Gabe supposed the main problem with volunteers was that they were, by definition, not professionals. For a man who worked alone and knew the name and function of pretty much every power tool on the market, Saturday morning was a bit too chaotic. A couple dozen well-meaning people—many with children in tow—milled around with only a limited idea of what they should be doing.
Thankfully that lasted for only a short while before Quinn and Lilah herded everyone into the impromptu headquarters they’d set up in the town square gazebo. Even among the crush of bodies beneath the gazebo roof, Gabe was continuously aware of Arianne’s location. He could pick her voice out of the cacophony, could feel whenever she looked in his direction. He assiduously did not look in hers. She would say that he was avoiding her, accuse him of running away again in a more subtle form.
Damn straight he planned to avoid her! He was willing to build an entire pirate armada in return for Arianne not kissing him again. Because if she tried, he would succumb to temptation. He’d spent too many unguarded moments since Thursday night imagining the taste of her, the softness of her lips beneath his, her skin against his. He was reputed to be someone who gave in to baser instincts with no thought for consequences. If Arianne got too close, he’d end up proving his fabled lack of self-control.
In the center of the gazebo, Lilah and Quinn mapped out where everything would be—various midway games down Main Street, arts and crafts booths on the courthouse lawn, concessions scattered throughout, a large rock-climbing wall in the post-office parking lot.
A freckled boy sitting not far from Gabe leaned forward at the mention of the climbing wall. “I’m gonna do it this year!”
An older boy with similar features shoved the child’s shoulder. “You’ve been saying that for two years, Ben. Face it, you’re a big fraidy cat, scared of heights. You’re never gonna climb that wall.”
“I am, too, Toby!” But the youngster’s lower lip trembled.
Gabe sighed inwardly. Chin up, kid. Crying would only be taken as an additional sign of cowardice.
“Ben! Toby!” A woman with strawberry blond hair shushed them, and Lilah and Quinn began sending volunteers off with specific assignments. They’d restored order admirably well, and Gabe hoped he could get to work soon on erecting the plank platform, left more or less alone.
He hadn’t even reached the site Lilah had designated, the small gravel lot next to the library, before someone approached. Jack Allen. A sour taste rose in Gabe’s mouth. Jack worked as an administrator for the town of Mistletoe and was the younger brother of someone Gabe had beat to a near pulp in high school.
“Hey, Gabe,” Jack called.
He sounded a lot like his brother actually. Hey, Gabe.
As if it had been yesterday, Gabe could hear Duke Allen in his head.
Wait up.
Warily, Gabe’s sophomore self had turned, wondering if yet another person was about to insinuate that he was responsible for two deaths. Three, if one counted the mother he’d never known.
But Duke Allen had beamed at him. I know you’re taking a lot of flack, dude, but I’m on your side. Who wouldn’t have bagged Mrs. Templeton, given the chance? I gotta know, was she as hot in bed as I think?
The memory blurred after that, ending with the principal and vice principal separating them and the look of contempt in Jeremy Sloan’s eyes when he’d come to pick up his suspended son.
Gabe swallowed. “Jack.”
“Quinn said I should see you about the ladder?”
“What? Oh, the ladder. Yeah. Follow me to my truck.” Gabe had offered the use of his commercial-grade ladder, knowing it extended well beyond the ladders most people had at home.
“I couldn’t make the meeting the other night,” Jack said. “Zoning commission meeting ran late. But I wanted to add that I think the pirate ship idea is a nice touch. We appreciate your taking time out of your schedule to put it together so quickly.”
From someone else, the remark could have been snide, a pointed reminder that Gabe didn’t have much of a social schedule. But Jack was completely amiable. If he recalled Gabe’s regrettably lost temper in high school, he wasn’t holding a grudge.
When they reached the truck, Gabe said, “This ladder’s pretty heavy. Where are you headed with it?”
“Just around the corner, to Butler Street. We’re raising the big bingo tent and stringing up the speakers.”
The two of them carried the ladder together. Jack said that when he was done with it, he and someone else would bring it to Gabe, who would need it this afternoon.
Not five minutes later, Gabe was hailed again. This time by Tanner Waide. Gabe could guess what the man wanted to discuss. Arianne, what trouble have you got me into now? The idea of defending himself with the God’s honest truth—that she had made the move on him—was enticing, but he discounted it as ungallant. Besides, in his experience, people rarely believed that explanation.
“Tanner, what can I do for you?” he asked, slowing his gait but not stopping.
“I don’t need anything.” The man smiled, heightening his familial resemblance to Arianne. “Actually I came to say that if there’s anything you ever need…”
When Tanner broke off with a frown, Gabe found himself confused. “You mean, like assistance with the pirate ship?”
“Not exactly. Although I’d be happy to help.” Tanner rubbed his jaw. “This is more awkward than I’d intended, but I heard about the confrontation with Shane.”
Gabe sighed. Would Arianne’s brother believe him if he explained that he wasn’t looking for any trouble?
“I just want you to know we’ve got your back.”
“Excuse me?”
“David and me. If you want us to correct any misconceptions about how it went down. Or if you think Shane’s not getting the message about Ari not being interested, I’d appreciate your letting me know. I’ll have a chat with him.”
Gabe’s gaze went involuntarily to Tanner’s hand, and the other man noticed, chuckling.
“That wasn’t a euphemism for roughing him up. He’s known the family for years, and we owe it to him to try talking first if his behavior’s become inappropriate.” Tanner’s expression suddenly hardened. “Unless he ever lays a hand on my little sister, in which case I’ll dump his body in the river.”
If Shane hurt Ari in front of Gabe, Tanner would never get the chance to kill him. Gabe didn’t voice the thought—it seemed risky, given his history and the fact that three local police officers were helping with the huge canvas bingo tent. But some of the protective ferocity he was feeling must have shown in his expression because Tanner rocked back on the balls of his feet, looking satisfied.
“I see we’re in agreement,” Tanner said. “I’ll let you get back to work, then. But we’ll have a beer soon so I can give you advice.”
“Advice?” What had he done to make the Waides think they were his own personal consulting team?
“On how to manage my sister.”
“I don’t think that’s possible,” Gabe grumbled.
Tanner grinned. “You’re a quick learner.”
GABE PAUSED, WIPING his forehead with the back of his arm. He was mighty glad they’d asked for his help with the fall festival and not the July Fourth celebration. Even with the cool October air, he was working up a sweat. He set the hammer he’d been using across the top of his toolbox and reached for a bottle of water. It had long since turned lukewarm, but at least it was wet.
He stood and twisted off the lid, gratefully rehydrating.
“I feel bad that I didn’t think to bring you another bottle. You look like you’re about out,” Lilah observed as she emerged from a shaded trail between two buildings.
“That’s okay.” He crumpled the plastic to stick it in the recycling bin. “I’ll probably head for lunch soon anyway, so I can get something else to drink then.”
“Could you hold off on that lunch for another fifteen minutes?” she asked. “Jennifer Gideon just handed me the check from the PTA and the bouncy company is supposed to be delivering the ball pit back here. Can you direct them, let them know exactly where you need it?”
“Sure.” He smiled. “But if I pass out from hunger in the meantime, it’s on your head.”
She looked startled for a second and he wondered if she’d taken him seriously, but then she gave a little shake of her head. “After the diving pit is set up, why don’t you come to lunch with us? Tanner and I were talking about going for Mexican.”
“You do know I was kidding about the fainting?”
“That’s what I figured. I just thought it would be nice if you could join us.” She hesitated before adding, “Ari will be there.”
If he were a smarter man, that would be a reason not to go. Hadn’t he been thinking to himself that the more distance between them, the better? But…
He missed her smile. In retrospect, he’d been braced all morning for her to seek him out, to interrupt, and now that she hadn’t, the relief he should be feeling was tainted with disappointment.
“She’s trying to give you space,” Lilah said in a near whisper, glancing around as if nervous she would be caught betraying a confidence. “She’s afraid she comes on too strong.”
She does. So why wasn’t he happier that she was staying away?
“It won’t last,” Lilah predicted. “She’s trying to back off because she’s told herself she should, but it’s too contrary to her nature. The Waides are strong-willed.”
“Including your husband?”
Lilah laughed. “Especially my husband! Don’t let the aw-shucks twinkle in his eyes or easy smile fool you. You should have seen the full-court press I got when he moved back to Mistletoe. I was afraid he could break my heart again and wanted nothing to do with him.”
Gabe pointed to the wedding band she wore. “Looks like he wore you down.”
“Put that way, it doesn’t sound very romantic, huh?” She wrinkled her nose. “But trust me, even though I thought he was going to drive me crazy at the time, letting myself love him was the best decision I ever made.”
A truck parked at the curb and a couple of guys crunched across the gravel to ask if she was Lilah and if this was where the ball pit would go. Nodding, she introduced them to Gabe. He took it from there and she excused herself to go check on the progress with the bingo tent and midway facade.
“Think about that lunch offer,” she reminded him over her shoulder.
He grinned at her retreating back—Lilah was a bit like her relentless sister-in-law, she was just more understated about it.
Together the three men got the “mega pit” situated and inflated the base to determine whether this was going to work safely. When Gabe was satisfied that walking the plank would be a lighthearted fundraiser and not a short plummet into traction, he thanked the uniformed men and signed the paperwork saying that he understood the safety regulations and instructions for how to use the electric blower. They unloaded seven enormous bags filled with springy, multicolored balls. As he handed over the clipboard, he caught sight of a paint-smeared blonde and two kids in his peripheral vision.
Arianne. She was crouched down in the picturesque pathway that led between the buildings and back toward Main Street. Her hair was pulled back with some kind of clip, but long strands were blowing around her face as she crouched next to two kids. It looked as though she was mediating an argument between the two ginger-haired boys Gabe had seen in the gazebo earlier. Gabe started walking toward them even before he realized that was his intention.
“Everything okay here?” he asked. At least if he sounded as if he were trying to help, he wouldn’t have to admit to himself that, having finally seen her, he couldn’t stay away.
“It will be,” Arianne said. Her stern tone was full of warning, but Gabe wondered if the blue smear of paint across her left cheek detracted from her authority. “Right, guys?”
The youngest—seven, maybe?—nodded, sniffling, and the taller one kicked the dirt with his shoe as he muttered an unconvincing, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Why don’t the two of you go help Quinn clean paintbrushes?” she suggested. “Your mom said as soon as she’s done, she’ll take you to lunch at the Dixieland Diner. Play your cards right, there might even be milk shakes in your future.”
Their expressions brightening slightly at the implied bribe, they scampered off and disappeared around the corner of the bank.
“You think they’re really on their way to assist Quinn?” Gabe asked. Neither child had looked particularly eager to tackle that errand.
Arianne sighed. “Who knows? Toby and Ben are good kids, for the most part, but a handful for Fawne. Her husband is serving a tour of duty overseas. She’s here instead of on a base because she’s trying to help take care of her parents, and it’s a lot on her plate.”
Gabe stared off in the direction the boys had gone. “I don’t want them operating power saws or hammering a platform that needs to hold actual festival attendees without collapsing, but if I rack my brain, I might be able to come up with something they can do to help me.”
“Really? My hero.” Her radiant smile made him feel he was strong enough to stop a speeding locomotive. Or run faster than a speeding locomotive. Definitely something in the locomotive genre.
Embarrassed by the swell of pride he felt at her reaction, he downplayed his generosity. “It’s not that big a deal. Patrick and Lilah and Quinn deal with entire classrooms full of kids on a daily basis. Seems like a minor enough task for me to keep two of them out of trouble for an hour or so.”
“It will be a big deal to them,” she protested. “Getting to hang out with a big strong guy and build stuff when their own father is so far away, instead of trailing after their mom all afternoon? I know having them underfoot will probably slow you down, and you’re sweet to offer.”
Sweet? Gabe wasn’t sure whether to be amused by the unlikely adjective or vaguely offended.
“So, what have you been working on all morning?” he asked casually. “I assume paint was involved.”
He brushed his thumb over a smudge of yellow on the inside of her elbow. She trembled. He wished she hadn’t. Her natural responsiveness made her even more irresistible.
“Headless bodies,” she said.
Gabe raised an eyebrow at her unexpectedly gruesome answer. “I don’t follow.”
“Waide Supply donated large pieces of plywood and the school’s art teacher drew silly outlines. The kind you stick your head through for photo ops. A few of us have been painting them. She’s got one of a pirate captain to put near your ship.
“Speaking of which…” she said, sounding uncharacteristically shy.
It was endearing to see an alternate side of her, but made him realize he’d grown to genuinely like her brash confidence.
“Yes?” he prompted.
“How’s progress on your ship going?” she asked. “I’d be happy to round up some volunteers or even pitch in myself. Although, last time I offered, you questioned my construction skills. And I…didn’t want to be pushy.”
Her confession unbalanced him. Despite his previous complaints, it seemed inherently wrong that Arianne should try to be anything other than the strong, sexy, surprising woman she was.
“You are who you are.” It came out clumsily, not nearly encompassing how much he admired her.
“Is that your fatalistic way of saying I’m doomed to keep making the same mistakes?”
“No!” He cupped her chin, tilting her head up. “No, it’s my way of…” There were a half a dozen things he could tell her, except he couldn’t find the right words to articulate any of them.
Maybe he should try action instead.
His heart raced with the anticipation that had been escalating since she’d brushed her lips across his skin the other night. That whisper of a caress had teased at the corners of his imagination for the past two days, stoking an undeniable craving. Arianne’s lips parted, and her eyes closed as he bent toward her. For reasons known only to herself, Arianne seemed to believe in him, and he should probably repay that with a gentleman’s kiss, soft and slow-building. Respectful.
Instead, Gabe kissed her like the town bad boy he was. Hungry and hard, pressing his open mouth to hers and sinking into the warmth of her.
She clutched the front of his shirt. He wasn’t sure if she was trying to pull him even closer or holding on to him for balance. There was a bench behind them, and he moved them in that direction until the back of his legs bumped iron. Then he sat, tugging Arianne with him. She wasn’t quite in his lap, but so tantalizingly close that need roared through him.
Fragmented thoughts circled like distant birds high above, little more than indistinguishable M’s against the clouds. Public place. Shouldn’t. She deserves…
But Arianne tunneled her hands through his hair and slid her tongue against his, obliterating the paltry objections his rational mind posed. She was soft and hot in his arms, and he let his hand drop from her shoulder to her blouse, over the fullness of her breast.
Push my hand away. One of them needed to be sane.
Arianne groaned his name and arched into him.
Hell, sanity was overrated anyway.
It took him a moment to realize that the feminine gasp he heard had not come from the beautiful woman kissing him.
Then Lilah’s voice boomed at them, unnaturally loud in the clearing. “You know what, honey? I just realized I left my keys over at the bingo tent. Would you mind going back to get them?”
Even though most of the blood had left Gabe’s brain, he had the wherewithal to gently push Arianne aside. She was straightening her paint-stained button-down shirt and looked nearly composed by the time Lilah reached them. Gabe kept his gaze averted, breathing hard. It would be a few seconds before he could function like a normal human being again.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Lilah said, sounding far too delighted to be truly penitent. “Tanner and I were coming to see if Gabe would join us for lunch.”
“You Waides,” Gabe drawled. “You just don’t give up.”
“One of our numerous fantastic attributes,” Lilah agreed. “Also, many of us are good kissers, but I see you’ve discovered that for yourself.”
“Li-lah!”
Arianne’s squeak of protest left her sister-in-law unfazed.
“Couldn’t help myself.” Lilah chuckled. “Think back to how often you’ve teased me and Tanner over the years. Do you know how many times you walked in on us necking back when we were teenagers?”
“Of course I know. Seeing my brother in a hot clinch?” Arianne exaggerated a shudder. “Those incidents scarred me for life.”
If Lilah hadn’t found an excuse to send her husband away before he’d gotten an eyeful, Gabe had a feeling he would currently be maimed for life. Not fully meeting her eyes, he offered a heartfelt, “Thank you.”
He could hear the smile in her voice. “So, about lunch?”
A frigid, ice-cold shower sounded like a much better idea than sitting next to Arianne for the next forty minutes, trying to act as if he didn’t want to drag her off to bed while her brother watched from the other side of the table. “Um…”
Arianne covered his hand with hers. “Please, Gabe?”
He felt himself drowning in her eyes and didn’t mind. Who needed air? “All right. But I need to do something about the balls first.”
Arianne’s eyebrows shot up, and Gabe gave a strangled laugh. “For the pit. Remember? Big container people are going to walk into? The company delivered our supplies, and aside from the base, I don’t want to just leave everything out.”
“Of course.” Her face pinkened, and she busied herself with reclipping her hair. “I knew what you were talking about.”
“I need to get my toolbox, too.” Would all seven bags even fit in his truck? “We’re going to need a good-sized storage space to keep all the bags. Unless we want to divvy them up among us?”
Lilah shook her head. “No, even with the advance prep, next Saturday will be hectic. Keeping everything together will make it go more smoothly. We can store the balls in the guest room at my house. We only use it when we have—”
“Sweetheart?” Tanner called. “I didn’t see your keys.”
She turned with a guileless smile that made Gabe think she deserved an acting award. “Sorry about that, hon. They turned out to be in my pocket.”
Tanner narrowed his eyes, well aware that his wife wasn’t a ditz but not pressing her for a better explanation. “Well, I’m starving. Are we ready to go or what?”
“Just about,” Gabe said, standing. “Can you help me carry some bags to my truck? They aren’t too heavy, just cumbersome. Once we get those and my tools secured, we can go.”
“Anything to speed this along,” Tanner said affably, following Gabe toward the clearing that spilled out into the gravel lot.
“We’ll be along in just a second,” Lilah said, tossing a friendly arm around Arianne’s shoulders. It occurred to Gabe that he was about to be the topic of conversation. From years of habit, he bristled at the idea. He liked flying below the social radar. Then you should refrain from publicly mauling the daughter of a community pillar.
As he came around the corner of the library, Gabe noticed that his ladder was propped against the back of an antiques store opposite them. It had probably been returned from the front of the lot because the path between buildings was too narrow to maneuver well, thank God, or Gabe and Arianne—There was a split-second delay between seeing the fifteen-foot ladder and realizing that there was a kid climbing it.
Ben. The little boy who was afraid of heights.
Chapter Nine
Gabe’s instinct was to cross the lot at a run, but he didn’t want to startle the kid into falling. The ladder was merely resting there, not safely grounded on the uneven gravel for actual use. Cold fear gripped Gabe. He could break his neck.
He and Tanner exchanged stricken looks.
“Go get help,” Gabe instructed, not caring what form that help took as long as they got this kid down safely. Were there still firemen at the bingo tent, or had they gone to lunch? Did they have nets and safety equipment with them, or were they stored at the fire station?
He walked purposefully toward the kid, noticing as he went that the ladder was shaking. The little boy, who’d nearly reached the top, was crying.
“Ben?” Gabe called softly. “You’re okay, buddy.”
“No, I’m n-not. I’m afraid just I-like my br-br—”
They could address phobias and self-esteem and not climbing ladders unsupervised later. Right now,
Gabe needed to reach the kid before the whole damn thing fell over.
“Hold on.”
But the child wasn’t listening. His pitiful little howls were gathering strength, and Gabe heard Arianne’s sharp intake of breath behind him as Ben reflexively lifted a hand to wipe his nose. Gabe dived for the tilting ladder as it scraped against the side of the building. Ben shrieked.
Gabe didn’t have time to steady it, not with Ben’s shaky weight working against him. “Just let go, buddy. I’ll catch you.” Please, God, let his words be true.
Instead, Ben panicked and scrambled to get down, further upsetting the ladder. As it started to topple, he either decided to trust Gabe or just plain lost his grip. He smashed down into Gabe’s chest. Gabe staggered back, tightening his hold to keep the kid safe, barely able to register the discomfort in his rib cage before a much more powerful blow struck him across the skull.
Tanner tried to help him into a sitting position as Arianne pulled Ben into her waiting arms. There was a ringing so intense in Gabe’s ears that the sound nauseated him, but somewhere beyond it, he focused on Arianne’s low, soothing voice. He thought he heard her say that Lilah had gone to find Ben’s mom.
“Sh-she’ll be mad,” the boy fretted. “I was supposed to stay with Toby, but I wanted to prove I was brave. Like m-my daddy.” The last word ended on a wail that was like a machete to Gabe’s temple.
“Benjamin August Harris!”
Gabe’s stomach lurched. Must everyone yell? Suddenly Arianne appeared in the halo of his blurred vision.
“Are you all right? How many fingers am I holding up?”
He tried to focus on her hand. Eleven? That couldn’t be right. “Don’t worry. Hardheaded. Like you.” To prove his point and erase the fear pinching her face, he lurched to his feet.
And the world went temporarily dark.
GABE WAS OUT ONLY a moment, but apparently when you were dealing with women, that was more than enough time for them to conclude you had to go to the hospital.
“You blacked out!” Arianne said, blessedly keeping her voice soft despite her vehemence.
“Just stood too fast,” he mumbled. “Aspirin, bed, be fine.” Aspirin, a few hours rest and plenty of time in bed with her, he’d be even better. But he lacked the energy to invite her to kiss and make it better.
Meanwhile, Fawne Harris was gushing to the rapidly gathering crowd that Gabe had saved her son. Everyone parted to make way for the red truck. Tanner had taken Gabe’s keys and gone to get his vehicle so that he didn’t have to walk all the way between buildings and across lots to where he’d parked.
Tanner stepped out of the truck and tossed the keys to Arianne.
“You want Lilah and me to come with you?” her brother asked.
“I’ve got it from here,” Arianne said. She sounded almost like a protective mama bear.
It made Gabe smile, the crazy idea of the tiny woman shielding him from danger, but moving his facial muscles only added to the agony in his head. So he gave up arguing and let Lilah and Tanner help him into the passenger seat of his truck.
Once he was buckled, he told Arianne, “Never let a woman drive it before.”
“Don’t worry, David taught me to drive stick when I was still in high school. Close your eyes and leave the ride to me.”
Luckily, business in the E.R. was slow this afternoon, and the doctor saw Gabe pretty quickly. He asked him some questions and did a rudimentary exam before concluding, “MTBI.”
“What’s that?” Arianne asked, sounding alarmed. Gabe wanted to hug her, to reassure her that he was all right, but it was difficult to portray unharmed strength when the room tilted every time he moved.
“A concussion,” the doctor explained.
Well, duh. Gabe figured everyone who’d been in town square with them, right down to little Ben, could have made that diagnosis and spared him the extra stop at the hospital with all its painfully bright fluorescent lights overhead.
He swallowed, squinting at the doctor. “Can I have some aspirin?”
“Not for a concussion! Acetaminophen would be better. I’ll get you some of that.” The man turned to Arianne. “Can you or someone else keep an eye on him for the next twenty-four hours? He should make a follow-up appointment for Monday, but in the meantime, if he gets worse, you should bring him back in.” He gave her some symptoms to watch for, like vomiting and growing confusion.
Earlier that afternoon, the idea of Arianne spending the night with him would have sounded like paradise, but not in his current condition. Gabe felt woozy and vulnerable and not a little foolish, getting conked on the head with his own damn ladder.
“Feeling better,” he lied to her as she navigated the labyrinth of the hospital’s parking garage to get them back out on the main road. “You don’t have to stay once you drop me off.”
“I don’t mind,” she said firmly.
I do.
She slanted him a sidelong look. “All right, how about I call your father?”
“What?” He hadn’t meant to yell. Damn, that hurt.
“You were just in the hospital. Even if you don’t ask him to come over, shouldn’t we at least call your dad to notify him?”
“At the hospital, not in,” Gabe differentiated. “And, no.”
“I thought maybe you’d be more comfortable with a parent taking care of you instead of me.”
Throughout Gabe’s life, his father had made him feel guilty, had made him feel unloved and had made him itch to leave home. But made him comfortable? No. That was not in Jeremy’s repertoire.
“Is there…” She hesitated. “Is there anyone else you’d like me to call, then? To watch over you?”
Either the acetaminophen was kicking in or his body was simply shutting down as a defense mechanism against the throbbing pain, because the earlier excruciating agony was giving way to a duller, achy sleepiness. Was there anyone else he’d rather be with than Arianne, anyone else he trusted more in this situation?
“Stay.” His eyes closed. “Stay with me.”
EVEN ASLEEP, GABE DIDN’T look at peace. Arianne parked the truck beneath the carport outside the old Mitchell barn. It was no secret Gabe had bought the place and had been slowly fixing it up; she’d wondered several times over the past few weeks what the interior of his home looked like. Now she’d get an insider’s view. She felt a dash of shame over her curiosity—the man was hurt! This was no time to be thinking of herself. But then she forgave herself. After all, who could blame a girl for wanting to learn more about the man she was…
Falling for? Lusting after? Thinking about on an hourly basis?
“Gabe.” She nudged his shoulder. Not being able to wake a person up could be a sign that the concussion was more severe than first realized. But she had no frame of reference. How difficult was Gabe to wake up normally? What if he was like Tanner, who slept like the dead?
At least Gabe mumbled something, so she knew he’d heard her.
She gave it another shot. “C’mon, big guy. We’re home, and I need your help. I can shoot pool with the boys, drive a stick shift and occasionally cuss like a sailor, but lifting you is beyond even my capabilities.”
Though he groused incoherently the entire time, he managed to slide out of the truck. She put her arm around his waist and looped his arm around her neck. Was she a terrible person for noticing the sculpted definition of his muscles at a time like this?
She found the house key on the ring in her hand and unlocked the door. There weren’t an abundance of windows, and she reached automatically for a light switch, but Gabe emitted a low whimpering sound that made her rethink that. Was there enough illumination that she could help him down the hall to his room without walking into a wall or tripping over something?
“Can you make it to the bed?” she asked.
He glanced at her and, despite the pain etched around his eyes, smiled. “Dare you to ask me that another time.”
Desire pierced her. He’d sustained a concussion saving a little boy and still had the stamina to flirt with her? At this rate, he’d ruin her for other men.
She stiffened at the thought. Even though it had been partially flippant, there was a kernel of actual risk there. Every man she’d ever dated had been from Mistletoe and she couldn’t imagine getting swept away with any of them the way she had with Gabe on that bench.
Either because he was feeling better now that he was in dimmer surroundings or because sheer masculine pride forbade him from continuing to lean on her, Gabe led the way to his room. Her passing impression was that the former barn was sectioned into thirds, with a high-ceilinged living room in the middle and a kitchen and bedroom on the ends.
She found his bed in the same state as hers—sloppily made. It made Arianne feel like too much of a slob to leave her sheets and blankets twisted any which way when she left home for the day, but she didn’t bother with a lot of tucking and creasing or pillow arranging. She sidestepped him and pulled down the corner of a forest-green comforter. There was a large picture window in here, but the shade was drawn behind tan-and-green curtains.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes at half-mast.
Arianne knew that if she offered her help, he’d turn it down, so instead of asking, she simply knelt and pulled off the hiking boots he wore. “You lie down,” she instructed in her best no-nonsense tone. “Is there anything I can get you?” It was too soon for any more medicine. She tried to think what would possibly make her feel better if she’d had a seventy-pound kid fall into her, followed by a ladder hurtling down on her head.
She shook her head, trying to dislodge the morbid what-ifs. “You really were quite the hero today.” Ben could easily have ended his day with broken bones, or worse if he’d fallen at the wrong angle. Then there was the possibility that he could have been injured in a fall and again when the ladder crashed atop him.
Gabe closed his eyes, his voice a tired slur. “Had to. Can’t take a fourth death on my head.”
Fourth? Arianne recoiled in surprise. Who, besides the Templetons, did he obviously blame himself for? Now didn’t seem like an appropriate time to ask.
“Arianne? Could you bring an ice pack?”
“Of course.” Arianne was a doer by nature. She was relieved to have a specific and helpful task.
In the kitchen, she flipped on the light and saw a suite of silver appliances, including a flat-range stove and a trash compactor. Crossing to the three-door refrigerator, she decided that the freezer compartment was probably the one with the ice dispenser. She opened the door and stared.
“Good Lord, it looks like he robbed the Breckfield Creamery.”
She’d never seen so much ice cream in one person’s kitchen. Individual servings and pints of exotic flavors inside the door, half gallons of country-style vanilla and mint-chocolate chip sharing a shelf, and boxes of individually wrapped ice-cream sandwiches. He must exert a lot of physical effort on the job to maintain a body that looked like his. Even though she knew there was no valid logic to her impromptu reasoning, she wished the more suspicious-minded citizens of Mistletoe could see the contents of his freezer. The man owned a tiny pink carton of Bubble Gum Bliss, for crying out loud—how evil could he be?
Realizing that she was taking her time snooping while the hero of the day was still lying in agony, she jerked her attention away from all the frozen dairy goodness and found a blue gel pack. The sudden ring of a phone splintering the silence nearly made her jump. After only two rings—Arianne had programmed hers to five in case she had trouble finding the cordless—Gabe’s voice rumbled from the answering machine on the tiled kitchen counter.
“You’ve reached Sloan Carpentry and Odd Jobs. Leave a message at the beep or, in case of emergency, page my cell.”
Right after he gave the number for that, a woman spoke. “It’s Nicole. I may have an idea for a job possibility if you’re willing to move to Kennesaw. Give me a call if you want more details—it was great to hear from you the other day.”
Nicole? Against her will, Arianne recalled what Shane had told her. Kitchen tile wasn’t all he laid for Nicole Jones.
Even if Shane was right, what business was it of Arianne’s? Every adult had a romantic past. No, the pang she suffered probably wasn’t jealousy over a woman with whom Gabe may have once been involved, a woman who no longer even lived in Mistletoe. Instead, Arianne suspected that the reason it temporarily hurt to breathe was because even though Gabe had told her point-blank that he planned to leave, she’d harbored the subconscious hope that he’d change his mind.
She shot the answering machine a malevolent glare. Good thing she wasn’t a selfish, devious person or that message might accidentally get erased before Gabe was fully recovered. Pretending she was too noble to have even had such a thought, she left the kitchen and hurried down the hall.
Gabe wasn’t snoring, but his breathing was audible, deep and even. She crept forward, figuring she could leave the ice pack on the nightstand in case his headache woke him up in the immediate future. Unable to resist the temptation of studying him at her leisure, she sat gently on the edge of the bed. Gabriel. It was a fitting name for him. He was formed beautifully enough to look like an angel, albeit one with the weight of the world on his broad shoulders.
As she gazed down at him—this six-foot loner with surprise dimples and a secret love for ice cream—tenderness swamped her.
She bent to graze his forehead with a featherlight kiss. Unexpectedly, the arm at his side clamped around her, drawing her inexorably to him. He never even opened his eyes.
“Gabe?” she whispered.
Nothing.
She was squashed into his torso and had to wiggle around so she could breathe easier and so that she wasn’t lying in such a way that pulled her long hair. His breathing was still relaxed, but his arm was like an iron band around her. She debated the best way to slip loose without disturbing his well-earned rest. Oh, heck with it. Despite his teasing remark about taking her to bed earlier, who knew if she’d ever have this chance again?
Deciding to enjoy it while she was here, she tucked her chin against his chest and succumbed to the luxury of being in Gabe’s arms.
Chapter Ten
When Gabe woke in the dark room, his head hurt some but it was a distant pain that paled in comparison to the other physical sensations jolting his body. Arianne was snuggled across him, her warm weight draped over him like the world’s sexiest blanket, her thigh pressing against his erection. Although he wasn’t complaining, he couldn’t remember crawling into bed with her.
He barely recalled finding the grit to make it down the hall on his own two feet. How long had they been here? No light shone around the edges of the window shade, so the sun must have already set. To get a look at the digital clock on his dresser he would have to shift Arianne, and he didn’t want to disturb her.
In fact, part of him wanted nothing more than to sink back into slumber, enjoying her nearness and accepting it as fate’s gift to him, a reward for helping that kid earlier. But Gabe didn’t think he’d be able to sleep that easily. He was too alert now, too aware of the sensual softness of her, the crush of her breasts against him, the teasing scent of her shampoo. The kisses they’d shared earlier came back to him in excruciating detail.
He fidgeted, restless and trying to get more comfortable as his arousal spiked to new levels.
“Mmm.” Arianne burrowed closer, and he almost laughed. How could she feel so addictively good yet be torturing him at the same time?
The phone shrilled, and Arianne’s eyes popped open, going wide as they met his. “Oh!”
He suspected that if there were enough light in the room he’d be watching her blush.
She started to roll away, but he hugged her first, just long enough to let her know he wasn’t sorry she was there. When their gazes locked again, she no longer looked embarrassed at finding herself sprawled in such a position. Shadows fell across her features, but he could sense a new emotion in her. Dare he hope, desire?
He slid his hands from her back down to the curve of her butt. She moved against him, the friction overwhelming, even through his jeans.
“What about the phone?” she whispered, propping herself on one elbow.
The phone was the least of his problems. He wanted—needed—to kiss her again. But they weren’t in Mistletoe town square now. They were alone in his bed. If they got carried away by the same passions they’d kindled in each other earlier, there was no question of how this would end. He would make love to Arianne Waide.
And then what? His conscience tried to make itself heard over his libido. Gabe’s only affairs in the past decade had been with women who either lived in neighboring towns or women who, like Nicole, wouldn’t be in Mistletoe long. Arianne would probably be here for the rest of his life. What kind of bastard would seduce a woman like her, then leave without a backward glance? While Gabe thought Shane McIntyre was largely a horse’s behind, the man had been accurate when he said Gabe wasn’t worthy of her.
“Gabe?” His name was a husky caress on her lips.
“You were right,” he said halfheartedly, dropping his hands to his sides. “I should get the ph—”
“It stopped ringing.” She used his horizontal position to mitigate the difference in their height, moving up to nip at his neck and then his bottom lip.
His body tensed in piercing pleasure. “Arianne—”
“Kiss me,” she said against his mouth.
God, yes. “Wait, I—”
She froze. “I’m so selfish! I’m hurting you, aren’t I? Is your vision still blurred?”
How could he tell? He was nearly cross-eyed with lust anyway.
“You aren’t hurting me.” At least not in the way she meant. “But you don’t know me well enough to do this.”
“Shouldn’t I get to decide that?” She poked him lightly in the chest.
“Not if you don’t have all the facts,” he countered.
Shushing his protests, she pressed two fingers against his mouth, then drew them down so that her index finger slipped between his lips. He sucked on the tip, reveling in the way her breathing sped up. Arianne was never shy about expressing herself. Making love to her would be—
“I know enough,” she pledged, swiveling her hips so that she was astride him. “And I want you.”
He surprised a gasp out of her when he pushed himself upright, gathering her to him for a searing, openmouthed kiss that burned away the last of his qualms. Plunging his fingers through her hair, he slanted his mouth over hers. The clip she’d been wearing clattered to the hardwood floor and long blond waves fell forward, curtaining them.
Arianne burned with need. No one had ever kissed her like this. She felt dangerously, exhilaratingly out of control. She was greedy for more, wanted to explore the hollows and planes of his hard body. She started to pull back so that she could remove his T-shirt, and gasped when the motion rocked her against him, the sensation so exquisite that she rolled her hips a second time with slow deliberation.
He swore softly, then grabbed her waist, hauling her to him and kissing her breathless. Somehow he managed to unbutton the top half of her long shirt using only one hand, shoving the material backward so that it dropped away from her body. The cool air was a sensual balm against her overheated skin. Under the lacy cups of her bra, her nipples beaded into tight points.
She was unprepared for Gabe to roll them over suddenly, pinning her beneath him. Should a man with a head injury be moving so qui—? Oh! She inhaled sharply as he kissed her through the lace. The pleasure was nearly unbearable—she couldn’t tell if she wanted him to keep going or if she needed a second to catch her breath.
Almost as if reading her mind, he gave her a moment’s respite, stopping just long enough to pull his shirt over his head. Wow. Even in the darkened room, she could appreciate how his well-muscled arms tapered to a movie-screen-worthy chest and a stomach indented with a straight line down the middle, ringed with the faint outline of abs. Next to that kind of physical perfection, Arianne should probably feel self-conscious about how rarely she exercised, but instead the only feeling she experienced was giddiness at the thought of being able to touch him.
She trailed her fingers over the flat dip of his navel, toward the waistband of his jeans. Her fingers shook as she undid the button and the zipper. Gabe held himself as still as a predatory cat right before it pounced.
When she rubbed him through the cotton of the boxer-briefs, his head fell back, his expression strained and indefinably erotic. “Arianne.”
He said her name like a pagan prayer. He made a pilgrimage of her body, worshipping with his hands and his lips. Her denim capris and then her bra vanished beneath his expert touch. By the time he slid a finger over the satiny material between her thighs, she was practically writhing with need. When he opened the nightstand drawer to get a condom, she almost sobbed with relief, long past ready to take him inside her.
She stroked him one last time, guided him to her center, her body bucking upward when he thrust into her. He braced himself above her, his muscles rigid with exertion as he watched her. She met his gaze as long as she could, until the intensity became too much, and she had to look away as the tremors built inside her. She closed her eyes, spasmed around him and let go, the ripples escalating into shock waves. Gabe finished with a wordless shout, then rolled flat onto his back, reaching for her hand among the tangled sheets and blanket. They lay there panting with their fingers entwined.
When Arianne noticed that he was pressing his temple with his free hand, she experienced a twinge of contrition. “Are you all right?”
“I could use some more of those pills,” he admitted. “Other than that, I’m perfect.”
Yes, you were. “I’ll be right back,” she said, shrugging into the shirt she’d worn earlier. She padded down the hall to the kitchen where she scooped the acetaminophen off the counter and poured a glass of water for Gabe. Standing in front of the refrigerator, she realized that she was famished.
“Thank you,” Gabe told her when she returned. He’d flipped on the nightstand lamp, the soft golden glow bathing his skin.
She dropped the pills in his palm. “It’s the least I can do.” What had she been thinking, attacking a concussed guy? This probably had not been what the doctor had in mind when he’d instructed her to wake Gabe every few hours and check for a response.
“I only hope I didn’t do you irreparable harm,” she said ruefully.
A smile flirted around the corners of his mouth. “If you did, I forgive you. It was worth it.”
She sat next to him, tucking her feet under her. “Any chance you’re hungry? We never did have lunch, and I’m pretty sure we missed dinner, too.”
He paused, as if taking stock. “Earlier I was nauseous, but now that you mention it, I’m starving.”
“I could make us dinner,” she volunteered, the offer making her incongruously bashful. The man had just seen her naked, but there was a different kind of intimacy in fixing him a meal in his home. It just felt so uncharacteristically domestic. “Although I should warn you, I’m not a very accomplished chef. My mother, bless her heart, tried to teach me, but I always wanted to be playing basketball out on the driveway or riding bikes with my brothers.”
“Arianne, right now, you could serve me a burned grilled cheese sandwich made with stale bread, and I’d still think you were a goddess. The problem is I doubt I have much in the way of groceries. I stock up on the weekend and had planned to go later today.”
She considered this, too hungry to get dressed and drive into town in search of sustenance. “Well, there’s ice cream.”
“Ice cream for dinner?” Gabe grinned at her. “Woman after my own heart.”
IT WAS A SIX COURSE MEAL, if one counted chocolate syrup, sliced bananas and ice-cream flavors as courses. Dress was informal, Arianne only in a shirt and Gabe in formfitting boxer-briefs. They each picked out two varieties from the assortment in his freezer—Arianne had been curious about one called Hawaiian Vacation that included coconut slivers and macadamia nuts—and made large, sloppy sundaes.
Gabe didn’t actually have a kitchen table, explaining that he mostly ate at the breakfast bar. But they opted not to perch on the high-backed stools and instead sat together on the navy plaid couch. Arianne, curious about everything from his choice of decorative touches to what movies he might have in his DVD collection, tried to take in her surroundings without seeming too nosy. It was a nice place, nothing fancy or fussy, but he used colors she thought worked well and he obviously wasn’t a slob. Frankly, if the tables had been turned and she’d ended up with him as unexpected company this afternoon, she wasn’t sure her place would have been as neat. It seemed like she was frequently on her way somewhere—to work, to her parents’, out with friends—and she had a tendency to dump stuff in the chair closest to the door as she passed.
A picture in a wooden frame, sitting on top of the shelves of the entertainment center, caught her eye. It looked like a personal shot rather than a professionally taken photo, and a pretty young woman on a railed front porch was smiling at the camera. Judging by her clothes and hairstyle, the picture was at least a couple of decades old.
“Your mom?” Arianne hazarded a guess.
Gabe paused with his spoon in midair. “Yeah.”
“Were you close?”
“No. She died before I was two weeks old. If it weren’t for pictures, I wouldn’t even know what she looked like.” He said the words blandly, with no emotion, and she wondered how he really felt. Did it bother him that he’d been denied the chance to bond with her, or had he made his peace with that years ago, not truly missing something he’d never known?
“What happened?” she asked, wanting to know more about this man and the upbringing that had shaped him.
“Postsurgery complications. I was a really large baby and they decided to do a C-section.” Again said eerily without inflection. Not sorrow or misplaced guilt that the C-section might have been his fault, simply a rote statement of fact. “She got an infection afterward, which is always dangerous, but she was diabetic, which made it harder to fight.”
Thinking of how important her mother, Susan, had been to her all her life, Arianne got a lump in her throat. But nothing in Gabe’s demeanor suggested he wanted to discuss his own feelings, so she found another outlet for her sympathy. “That must have been hard on your father.”
Gabe’s laugh was harsh. “And he never let me forget that. You should have seen his face when I, in the third grade, foolishly asked if there was a chance he might remarry, if I would ever have…” He trailed off, staring into space with such anger and pain that she couldn’t believe she’d thought him emotionless moments before.
Had she done it again, pushed too hard?
No, she told herself. Even if Gabe didn’t want to admit it to himself, this was probably something he needed to deal with. Was this strain why he and his father weren’t close? If Gabe was going to leave Mistletoe—her heart ached at the thought—then this might be his last chance to make peace with his dad. Although the past couldn’t be altered, perhaps they could at least gain closure.
Relationships, familial or romantic, were messy, often painful, but extraordinarily worth the effort. Maybe Gabe just hadn’t had anyone in his life to demonstrate how rewarding they could be. Arianne had taken a front-row look at her parents’ long marriage and her brothers’ relationships. David and Rachel had struggled for several years with infertility and one miscarriage before beautiful Bailey had been born, and Arianne had watched them cope with the stress on their marriage. It took special people to weather the bad times together instead of distancing themselves from the problems and from each other.
Sometimes you just needed help bridging the distance.
Gabe stood suddenly, his unfinished ice cream melting into a tricolor mess. “If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to grab a shower.”
She tried not to feel wounded by his abruptness. The man had been working outside all morning, been at the hospital this afternoon and had given her the best sex of her life less than an hour ago. He deserved the comfort of a hot shower. But she couldn’t ignore the sense that he was once again retreating. Getting to her feet, she took the bowl from his hand.
“You go ahead,” she told him. “I’ll clean up out here.”
“Thanks.” His gaze lingered, softened for just a moment, but then he disappeared down the hall without another word. Soon she heard the pipes creak to life behind the walls as the water started. Trying not to fantasize about what it would have been like if Gabe had invited her to join him in the shower, she carried the bowls to the kitchen and rinsed them out.
She had just turned off the sink when she realized that his phone was ringing. Nicole, again? She tried not to feel cranky about that possibility.
But it was a different female voice that came through the answering machine. “Gabriel? This is Mindy Nelson. I probably shouldn’t have called—you might be sleeping. But I was just so worried when I heard—”
Arianne decided that Gabe wouldn’t mind her fielding this one. “Hello? Mrs. Nelson? This is Arianne Waide.”
“Oh, hi, Arianne.” Mindy sounded confused but pleased that someone had answered. “Are you at Gabe’s house?”
“Yes, ma’am. I was with him this afternoon when he got hit on the head and drove him to the E.R.”
“I heard all about it. Fawne Harris makes it sound as if he appeared out of nowhere and saved her son’s life.”
“Well, he did catch Ben and keep him from injury,” Arianne admitted proudly.
She’d thought Gabe was a hero long before then—when he’d volunteered to help despite not having kids at Whiteberry and not being sure he wanted to, when he’d stood up to Shane on her behalf and when he’d offered today to manufacture a way to keep Ben and Toby out of trouble. If only they’d realized sooner how necessary that would be!
Mindy clucked her tongue. “What a blessing that Gabe was there—I think Fawne’s ordering him roses. I heard about it at dinner tonight and got concerned about Gabe. I almost didn’t call, what with it being after nine by the time I got home, but…well, I was afraid he didn’t have anyone else to check in on him.”
Arianne ached, wondering how many good and bad moments he hadn’t been able to share with someone. “No need to worry, ma’am. I’m here.”
“I’m glad. He’s such a good man. Do you know, when he was building the deck for my yard, I was trying to teach my oldest how to drive so that he could get his license? We were struggling with the parallel parking, making each other tense, and Gabe took it over for me one afternoon. My son passed his test the following week.”
“Gabe volunteered to teach your kid to parallel park? Gabriel Sloan?”
“I told you, he’s a good guy. Speaking of which, will you let him know that I spoke to my brother-in-law? I really talked up Gabe, so if he wants to call and ask about job opportunities, the way has been paved.”
Arianne scowled. Yet another woman was trying to help Gabe get out of Mistletoe. Why wasn’t anyone trying to help him stay? “I’ll pass that message along.”
Once they hung up, Arianne realized that it had been hours since she’d looked at her phone. She probably should have checked in with Lilah and Tanner long ago. Sure enough, when she retrieved her cell from her purse, she saw that she had three voice mail messages, all from Lilah’s number.
Instead of taking the time to listen to them, she called her sister-in-law.
“There you are!” Lilah sounded equal parts exasperated and excited. “I’ve been trying to reach you. How’s Gabe?”
“Doctor said it was a concussion. He seems all right now, slept for hours. He took some more acetaminophen and is in the shower. I’m supposed to stay so that there’s someone to monitor him until tomorrow.”
Lilah was silent.
“What?” Arianne asked defensively.
“Nothing. I was just thinking about you needing to stay the night. With Gabriel Sloan.”
“Don’t say it like that. It’s so I can wake him up periodically, check his pupil size, make sure he’s not throwing up. That kind of thing,” Arianne said, trying for virtuous.
“Uh-huh. Well, if you’re not comfortable staying out there, I can send Tanner over. He could sleep on the couch. He can sleep anywhere. Just ask him about the one-and-only time we saw a ballet together.”
For all Arianne knew, she’d be bunking on the sofa. Judging by his tension when he’d left the room, Gabe was no longer under the thrall of what they’d shared earlier.
“I’m good here,” she said. “But could you pick me up in the morning? My car’s still at the festival site.”
“Actually, Tanner moved it with our spare key just a little while ago. That’s one of the reasons I was trying to get in touch with you, to let you know it’s at our house.”
Arianne laughed. “Because it wasn’t safe overnight in downtown Mistletoe?”
“I know,” Lilah agreed, a teasing lilt in her voice. “Talk to your brother. I guess he lived in the city too long. Call us in the morning when you’re ready to go.”
Arianne promised that she would and ignored the cheerful innuendo in her sister-in-law’s voice when she advised Arianne to have a good night. They disconnected, and Arianne paused for a moment, listening. Gabe was still in the shower. Since she had nothing to do, she decided to go ahead and give free rein to her curiosity.
There was nothing of major interest to see in the kitchen, so she returned to the living room, scrutinizing the entertainment center. As far as she could tell, it was the only TV in the house, a nice, large flat-screen. She grinned when she noticed that he owned a video game system, although she only saw one controller.
Against the far wall of the converted barn was the old loft. A set of painted wooden stairs with no railing led up to a carpeted, only partially enclosed loft with a skylight in the slanted roof. He’d made it a library of sorts. His computer sat on a desk in the corner, but the rest of the narrow space was eaten up by a large bookshelf. The man either loved to read or a hundred books had been included in the purchase when he bought this place. His tastes were varied, from lots of nonfiction and do-it-yourself books to Zane Grey’s Westerns, some of which were yellowed with age, to futuristic cop stories by J. D. Robb to a collection of comic essays by Dave Barry.
Suddenly the water switched off, and Arianne scrambled down the staircase, not wanting to look like the snoop she was. By the time Gabe reappeared—shirtless in a pair of low-slung running pants—she was resituated on the couch.
She cleared her throat, trying to break her gaze away from his chest. “I was thinking about it and, if you’d rather, I can sleep on the sofa. If that would make you more comfortable,” she offered, but she—or someone else of his choosing—was staying the night. That part was nonnegotiable.
“Don’t be silly.” He frowned at her. “The couch’s not half as comfortable as the bed. If you don’t mind my snoring, you’re welcome to share. I can keep my hands to myself.”
That hadn’t been what she was hinting at, but it probably was better for his recovery if she didn’t jump him again tonight.
“I pulled out a towel for you,” he said. “It occurred to me after I was already in that a good host probably would have let you shower first.”
“That’s all right. I wanted to wash the dishes and call Lilah anyway, let her know you’re okay. And Mindy Nelson called to check on you.”
“She did?”
Arianne nodded. “She heard about the injury and was worried.”
He looked bemused by this.
“She also wants you to know that she put in a good word with her brother-in-law.”
“Already?” He pressed his palms together, speaking almost to himself. “It’s really happening. I set it in motion, and I’m really doing this.”
Yep, he was really leaving Mistletoe. Ya-freaking-hoo.
“Gabe,” she began, “I’m not sure I understand why you’re going.”
“What’s there to understand?” He blinked at her. “You’re the one who asked me why I’d stayed this long in the first place. Remember?”
“Yeah, but…That’s just my point! Since you have stayed in Mistletoe so many years, why give up on us and leave now?”
“I’m not ‘giving up.’ I’m moving on. Moving forward.” His tone had chilled, and he was looking at her reprovingly. “You’re such a proactive person, I thought you’d understand.”
“No, I do. I understand,” she said quietly. But I want you to stay.
Chapter Eleven
“Gabe?”
It had been so long since either of them spoke that the word sounded unnaturally loud in the dark room, but she knew he wasn’t asleep. He hadn’t fallen into that steady, deep breathing. Plus, even though the only contact between their carefully spaced bodies was the curve of his hand over her hip, she could feel the tension radiating through him.
“Yeah?”
“Earlier, before…I seduced you—”
“You seduced me?”
“Absolutely. The trick was making it seem like your idea.”
“Well, excellent job.” He sounded genuinely amused, relaxing slightly behind her. “Because I’ve been having that idea for days now.”
She smiled against her pillow. Me, too. “You said that there were facts I didn’t know about you. What were you going to tell me if I hadn’t persevered?”
“You can’t have it both ways, Ms. Waide,” he reprimanded. “It was a onetime offer, and you chose to skip the conversation in favor of sex. You don’t get the conversation now.”
“Oh.” She was silent a moment. “Did you get a chance to check your messages while I was in the shower? It seemed like the phone rang quite a bit this afternoon.”
He groaned. “If I’d known you were going to be this chatty, I would have accepted your offer to bunk on the couch.”
“Sorry. Guess I’m having trouble falling asleep since I don’t usually take long naps in the late afternoon. Am I keeping you awake?”
“Not really,” he admitted. “I’m not used to sleeping the evening away, either. Yeah, I checked messages. Another possible job lead from a friend and a couple of potential clients wanting to talk to me about installing windows and an automatic garage door.”
“I really admire self-employed entrepreneurs like you and Brenna Pierce and Chloe Malcolm,” she said. “I work hard at the store, but it was there from the time I was born. I can’t imagine creating it from the ground up.”
He snorted. “You could have your own shopping mall up and running in time for the Christmas rush if you put your mind to it.”
She didn’t respond to the exaggeration, but was secretly pleased that he thought her so capable. “Still, you guys are dependent on word of mouth and keeping clients happy. I’ve got myself in trouble once or twice by speaking my mind with a customer, but at least they can balance my bad day against the reputation of three generations of Waides.”
“It’s true your family is well respected,” he said flatly.
She took the plunge. “You may not realize this, but Tara Hunaker has actually spread some rumors that could hurt your professional standing. She’s suggested that she hired you to refinish her basement and the job didn’t get done.”
“That’s one hundred percent true.”
Arianne whipped her head around on the pillow, trying to read his expression in the dark. “It is?”
“Yes. Turned out Tara wasn’t in the market for a carpenter but a gigolo. I explained the difference to her—using small words—and quit.”
Arianne felt her smile stretch from ear to ear. “You did?” Oh, how she would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation.
“I did. With the exception of one short-term customer who doesn’t actually live here, I don’t get involved with the women who hire me. I learned my lesson early.”
“Because of Shay Templeton?” The words tumbled out of their own volition and she held her breath, waiting to see if he lashed out at her for her presumption. Or, worse, ignored the question altogether.
“Because of Shay.” He rolled from his side to his back, putting more space between them.
She didn’t chase after him but waited patiently to see if he would confide in her.
“I was sixteen. She was my first lover. She’d told me for weeks how cold her husband was, how he made her feel unwanted, unloved.”
In addition to being a teenage boy brimming with hormones, Gabe had also been someone who could relate to being trapped in a home lacking in affection. Shay had played him well. It was likely she’d also been legitimately attracted to him, but that in no way excused an adult—a married adult, no less!—preying on a sixteen-year-old.
“I told her afterward that I loved her.” His brittle chuckle dripped self-loathing. “Can you imagine anyone that naive? A single afternoon in her bed and I was vowing to take her away from Mistletoe. She laughed, told me I was a sweet kid, not bad for a virgin, but that she had no intention of giving up her house and husband. She was still trying to kick me out when he came home.”
Arianne squirmed inwardly, wishing she hadn’t opened this particular can of worms. It was hard to hear him reliving the raw pain inflicted by the lover who’d calculated a premeditated seduction, then callously dismissed him.
“I shouldn’t have left,” he said hoarsely. “I saw how furious Templeton was, I should have stayed to protect her. But she wanted me to go, and I…”
He’d been hurt and confused and humiliated. Arianne was sorry for the senseless deaths, but she was angry with the long-dead Shay Templeton, not only for creating the tragedy but for embroiling a sixteen-year-old kid in the middle of it and permanently robbing him of his innocence.
“Thank you for telling me this,” she whispered. “The fact that you can even discuss it is a good sign. It means—”
“All it means is that I don’t want you to have any illusions about me,” he snapped. “I slept with another man’s wife and slunk off like a coward when their fight turned volatile. That’s who I am. Maybe you were right when you accused me of ‘giving up.’ It certainly wouldn’t be the first time I did that, but make no mistake, I’m leaving Mistletoe.”
She bit the inside of her cheek, fighting her natural inclination to argue, to tell him that she didn’t have illusions, that she saw him more clearly than he saw himself. She saw the past hurts and the honorable man he’d grown into despite them. She saw someone who had retreated into solitude, working alone, living alone, playing video games alone.
I don’t want you to have any illusions about me. He was trying to give her all the reasons why he was the wrong man for her, too much of a risk to be entrusted with her heart. A week ago, she would have agreed. Now she thought it was more complicated than that.
Hadn’t she been thinking only earlier tonight that the potential rewards of love were worth the struggle and effort? Rather than simply labeling him the wrong man, couldn’t she instead help him become the right one?
WHEN ARIANNE WOKE on Sunday morning, she was alone in the bed. A note on the nightstand said that Gabe would be back in a few minutes. After a moment’s deliberation over whether it was an invasion of personal space, she decided to pillage his closet for a shirt to wear. Hers was beyond grungy after twenty-four hours. She thumbed through a few hangers and laughed when she found a red T-shirt, faded and soft from many washings, that said Waide Supply above the pocket. Her dad had given them out as promotional items one year to every customer who spent more than sixty dollars in a visit. She had one in blue, but it didn’t hang nearly to her knees the way Gabe’s did.
Once she’d changed, she got a piece of sugar-free gum out of her purse in lieu of a toothbrush. She was securing her hair in a ponytail when she heard the front door close.
“Arianne?”
Just the sound of his voice thrilled her, but she tried not to sound like a squealing girl with a crush. “Back here.”
He appeared in the bedroom doorway holding a white sack with the Dixieland Diner logo on it. “Mornin’. I thought you might like something besides ice cream for breakfast.”
“That was thoughtful.” Her stomach rumbled at the smell of sausages and…was that syrup she detected? “Did you get us pancakes?”
At his nod, she thought, I adore you.
Today, they decided in unspoken agreement to eat at the breakfast bar. The breakfast dishes were not going to balance in her lap as easily as the ice-cream bowl. She sat on one of the stools while he got silverware out of a drawer.
Tossing his cell phone on the counter, Gabe said offhandedly, “Oh, I called Lilah on my way back from the diner to let her know you’d be ready to go soon. She should be here in about twenty minutes. I figured you’d be in a hurry for a fresh change of clothes.” His mouth quirked in a half grin, exposing his left dimple, as he took in the too-big shirt.
She smiled back as it was impossible to be annoyed with a man who bought you buttermilk pancakes with turkey sausage and fresh fruit. But she would have called Lilah herself. Was he trying to get rid of her?
He sat next to her and they ate in silence. Arianne racked her brain for the best way to handle the situation. She’d had a few lovers in her life, but they’d been steady boyfriends, guys she’d known well and had been in relationships with long before they found their way to her bed. Did Gabe consider last night a onetime event? The thought was bleak. But since she’d assured him she knew all she needed to take the leap, she could hardly press him now for answers and commitments.
As far as Arianne was concerned, they had a future of some sort. One of them just didn’t know it yet. Rather than informing him of her own feelings and encouraging him to consider his, she decided to exercise rarely used tact. They would talk later. For now, he was still finishing his breakfast and Lilah’s car was coming up the long driveway.
Arianne glanced out the window. “That’s my ride.”
Gabe opened the door and Lilah walked inside looking like an old-fashioned suitor come a-courtin’. She held a bouquet, a picture of some sort and a shoe box with a bow on it.
“What’s all this?” Gabe asked, staring at the roses as if they were live grenades on stems.
“These—” Lilah handed over the flowers “—are from Fawne as a thank-you. There’s a note. This is something Ben drew for you. And Quinn got you this very manly first-aid kit as her way of saying she hopes you feel better soon.”
He set the box on the bar to open it, and Arianne laughed at the sight of a green-and-brown camouflage-print ice pack and a box of adhesive bandages printed with monster trucks. He barely looked at her, instead staring at the odd assortment of gifts in disbelief.
“Seems like an awful lot of fuss,” he said.
Lilah raised an eyebrow. “Well, Ben’s awful important to his friends and family. We hate to think what would have happened to him if you hadn’t been there. By the way, Jack Allen has apologized a dozen times for just leaving that ladder propped like that and not giving anyone a heads-up that it was there. He loaded it onto Nick Zeth’s truck, along with the bouncy balls. They’re planning to bring it by today and help with the pirate ship construction if you need it.”
Even though Gabe shifted uncomfortably at this announcement, Arianne couldn’t be more delighted by the news. This was the Mistletoe she knew and loved—neighbors and friends helping each other out and banding together. It was high time Gabe got to be a part of that Mistletoe, too. She just hoped it wasn’t too late.
Lilah fished her keys out of her pocket. “You about ready, Ari?”
Translation, was Arianne prepared for the interrogation that was going to take place the second the two women were alone in the car? She decided that she wasn’t going to confide in Lilah, not yet. Gabe was such a private person that telling Lilah any of what he’d shared would feel like a betrayal. And as far as their making love…For now, that was hers alone, inviolable and not open for discussion.
Arianne slid her purse strap onto her shoulder. “I’m good to go.”
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