“It’s complicated, Gianna.”
“Of course it is. But, Shane, you’re clearly not at peace the way things stand. Wouldn’t it be better to get everything out in the open?”
That’s what he’d thought before finding out his father was a criminal. “I’m not sure what to do with the information.”
The sounds of laughter, women’s and children’s voices drifted to him just before he saw a large group of people round the corner. He glanced that way and the first person he recognized was D. J. Traub. They both worked at Thunder Canyon Resort restaurants so their paths crossed occasionally. They’d talked a few times.
And they both had mothers named Grace.
Gianna saw the exact moment when Shane’s expression changed and he got that weird look on his face again. Before she had time to wonder what put it there, the two of them were surrounded by a big group of Traubs, Dax, D.J., their wives and three kids between them. Everyone was saying hello at once. Everyone, that is, but Shane, who stood a little apart. It was impossible to grow up in this town and not know these guys. Since she wasn’t sure who Shane had met, she decided to make introductions.
“Shane Roarke, this is Dax Traub and his wife, Shandie.”
“Nice to see you.” Dax extended his hand.
He was a year older than his brother with dark hair and eyes, a brooding, James Dean type who oozed sex appeal. His wife was tall, with shoulder-length blond hair cut into perfect layers.
“Dax owns a motorcycle shop here in town and Shandie works at the Clip ’n Curl,” she explained.
“Nice to meet you,” Shane said, cool and polite. He looked down when a little bundle of energy tripped over his shoe and nearly took a header. “Hey, buddy. You okay?”
Shandie steadied the little boy. “This is Max. Say hello to Mr. Roarke.”
“Hi.” The little guy had his father’s dark hair and eyes. As soon as he dutifully said what was expected, he took off running down the sidewalk again.
Shandie called after him, “Slow down, Max.”
Dax tugged on a young blond girl’s pony tail. “This is our daughter, Kayla.”
“Nice to meet you,” the child said.
“The pleasure is mine, Kayla.” Shane leveled all the considerable Roarke charm on her and a becoming pink stole into her cheeks.
“Sorry to be rude,” a concerned Shandie said. “But I have to catch up with my son, the budding Olympic sprinter, and keep him out of trouble.”
“I’ll give you a hand, honey.” Dax looked at Shane. “I’m sure we’ll run into you again soon.”
“We’ll catch up with you, bro,” D.J. said.
He was an inch or two shorter than his brother and not as dark. His brown hair had strands of sunlight running through it and his eyes were more chocolate than coal colored. “Shane and I have met, but I don’t think you know my wife, Allaire.”
The pretty, petite, blue-eyed blonde smiled. She had her hand on the shoulder of their little guy, who was quivering with the need to follow the other family and be with the kids.
“And this is our son, Alex.” The proud mother smiled as she ruffled hair the same color as his father’s.
“I’m four,” the boy said. “Just like Max. People say I look big for four.”
“I thought you were at least five and a half,” Shane said seriously.
“There are days he makes me feel twice my age.” D.J. shook his head.
“Mommy? Daddy? Can I go with Uncle Dax and Aunt Shandie?”
Allaire glanced up the street to the group gathered in front of a gift-shop window. “If you hurry.”
“I’ll run fast, like I’m already five.” And he did.
“Dax?” D.J. called out and when his brother glanced over, he pointed to the boy running toward them. There was a nod of understanding and he settled a big hand on the small shoulder when Alex caught up and joined the merry little band.
Gianna glanced between them. “Is that a brother thing? Silent communication? Because my sister and I don’t have that.”
“Maybe because you’re in different places in your lives,” Allaire suggested. “Dax and D.J. both have four-year-olds and a protective streak as big as Montana.”
Gianna knew it was a nice way of saying her sister Jackie was married with three kids. And she, Gianna, was a spinster with no prospects. Time to change the subject.
“So, Allaire, Lizzie was just singing your artistic praises. She said you hand-stenciled the flowers on the walls of her bakery.”
“I did.” The other woman smiled with pleasure.
“Beautiful job,” Shane said. “I understand you’re a high school art teacher.”
“Yes. I wasn’t cut out to be a starving artist.” She looked up at her husband. “And I’m not. Thanks to D.J.’s Rib Shack and my teaching job.”
“What else do you like to work on?” Shane asked.
Gianna thought it was interesting that he was chatting up Allaire and hadn’t said much to her husband. Probably the art connection. He had an interest in it judging by the collection she’d seen in his condo. The four of them moved closer to the building to let a mother with a baby in a stroller get by them on the sidewalk. The movement put Shane beside the other man.
“I really like portraits,” Allaire answered. “But just for fun. I’m not very good at it. But it lets me indulge my people-watching tendency.”
“She’s way too modest about her amazing talent.” D.J. slid an arm across her shoulders and looked at Shane. “So, how do you like Thunder Canyon?”
“Fine.”
Along with the other couple, Gianna waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she put a teasing tone in her voice when she asked, “What happened to the poetic guy who said the scenery around here speaks to your soul?”
“If I was Shane,” D.J. said with a knowing expression, “I’d never admit to that, either.”
Gianna looked at Allaire and together they said, “Guy thing.”
“Speaking of guys...” D.J. met her gaze, then glanced at her companion. “How’s everything?”
Gianna knew he meant her love life. She’d gotten to know him since coming back to town. She’d applied for a job at the Rib Shack and he wasn’t hiring, but steered her to The Gallatin Room. Then he’d taken her under his wing and become the big brother she’d always wanted.
“D.J.” Allaire’s voice had a scolding note to it. “Don’t put her on the spot right now.”
“Why?” His expression was clueless. “We talk.”
“We do,” she confirmed. “And I can tell you that everything is...” She’d ended up confessing to him her pathetic love life and all the time and energy she’d wasted in New York. D.J. wanted to know what was up with Shane and she wasn’t going to talk about that in front of him. So she resorted to a girl’s succinct fallback response. “Fine.”
“You know...” Allaire glanced back and forth between the two men.
“What?” Gianna wasn’t sure what was on her mind, but encouraged a change of subject.
“Speaking of people watching to indulge my artistic streak,” the other woman said, “I’ve just noticed something.”
“That I’m better looking than Ryan Reynolds?” D.J. said.
“No.” She playfully punched him in the arm. “There’s a very strong resemblance between you and Shane.”
“Really?” Gianna studied them.
“Not the eyes.” The other woman thoughtfully tapped her lip.
“D.J.’s are brown and Shane’s are strikingly blue. But the shape of the face is identical. And you both have a strong chin. So does Dax.”
Gianna looked carefully at the two men standing side by side and saw what Allaire meant. She wondered why she’d never noticed before. Probably because she’d never seen them in the same room together, let alone side by side.
“You’re right. I see it, too.”
“They say everyone has a twin.” D.J. pointed playfully at Shane. “Just don’t pretend to be me and go changing the Rib Shack menu to snails and frog’s legs.”
Gianna snapped her fingers. “And you both make a living in the restaurant business. What a coincidence.”
That’s when she noticed Shane’s weird look was back and even more intense. Not only that, he hadn’t said a word since Allaire mentioned the strong resemblance. The face might resemble D.J.’s but it was not the face of the charming, playful man who’d said her fleecy pants and ratty robe were cute. Was that only last night? Seemed so much longer.
Even this morning at breakfast he’d been carefree and gallant, offering to drive her wherever she wanted to go. His mood had changed when Catherine had mentioned Presents for Patriots. Then again when Gianna had asked him about shopping for his family. That led to the revelation about him being adopted and searching for his birth parents.
He took her arm. “We should probably get to the mall.”
“That’s where we’re going,” Allaire said.
D.J. looked down at his wife. “We should meet them for lunch. You can compare the shape of Dax’s face to mine and Shane’s.”
“I wish I could. I already have lunch plans with my mother and sister. But maybe Shane—” She’d invited him to join her but he hadn’t responded one way or the other. Now Gianna felt his hand tense. Even if she were free, it was clear he’d rather eat bugs than join them.
“I can’t,” he said. “I have a meeting with a vendor this afternoon.”
“Too bad.” The other woman slid her hand into her husband’s.
“How about a rain check?” D.J. suggested.
“That would be great.” Gianna figured like a typical man he hadn’t noticed that Shane was quiet. But she’d bet everything she had that observant Allaire had sensed something. “See you guys soon.”
“You’re coming to Presents for Patriots?” D.J. asked.
“Wouldn’t miss it. I’m all signed up,” she said, but Shane remained quiet.
“Okay, then. Bye, you two,” Allaire said before they strolled down the street in the same direction the rest of the family had gone.
Shane walked her to his SUV parked in front of the bakery and handed her inside. Then he came around to the driver’s side and got in. “Do you still want to go to the mall?”
His tone said he hoped to get a rain check on that, too, and suddenly she lost the Christmas spirit.
“Shane, talk to me. What’s bothering you so much?”
“I already told you. Just some family stuff.”
“Come on. I’m not artistic like Allaire, but I observe people, too. I’d make a lousy waitress if I didn’t notice things. You barely said a word to D.J. That’s not like you. You’re probably one of the friendliest, most charming men I’ve ever met. So, I ask again. What’s wrong? And don’t tell me nothing.”
His hand tensed on the steering wheel and a muscle in the jaw so much like D.J.’s jumped. “It’s complicated.”
So, back to square one. He’d shut her down again. It didn’t take Cupid to clue her in that she was beating her head against the wall. By definition, romance required two people to participate in order to achieve the desired result. Clearly she was the only one here doing the work.
At least it hadn’t taken her very long to figure out that he had no intention of committing. And really, it was almost funny given her history of hanging on until all hope was gone.
She’d just set a personal record in the least amount of time it took her to lose a guy.
Chapter Seven
After asking Shane to take her home, Gianna hadn’t had much to say. That technically wasn’t true. She’d actually had a lot to say but kept it to herself since it was impossible to have a meaningful conversation with an obviously preoccupied man who would only tell her “it’s complicated.” Still, when the man said he would do something, he did it.
At Real Vintage Cowboy, Catherine Overton had her car keys. Per Shane’s instructions, the car had a new battery and they’d dropped it off for her. Note to self: find out the cost and pay him back. She didn’t want to owe him. On the other hand, at least she now had wheels, such as they were.
She never made it to the mall, but managed to get in a little Christmas shopping before it was time to meet her mother and sister at The Tottering Teapot. The customer base was primarily female and the restaurant was located in Old Town on Main Street near Pine, between the teenage hangout ROOTS and Mountain Bluebell Bakery. Not far from this morning’s disaster with Shane.
She drove around for a while looking for a parking space because, of course, she was running late. The place did a brisk business but seemed more crowded than usual today. A lot of people were probably out Christmas shopping and stopped for lunch.
Gianna finally found a spot to park that felt like a mile up the block, then nearly jogged all the way to the entrance where the double, half-glass doors were covered with lace. She pushed her way inside and immediately the sweet scent of lighted candles surrounded her. She knew the fragrance was called Mistletoe and that made her think of kissing Shane. Thinking of him was like a sudden pinch to her heart so she tried not to.
A podium just inside the door had a sign that said “Please wait to be seated” but the hostess must have been leading another party because no one was there. Peeking into the dining room, she spotted her mother and sister already at a table.
“Because, of course, they have well-ordered lives with men who probably confide in them,” she muttered to herself.
Without waiting for the hostess, she walked halfway through the restaurant. In addition to the menu of organic food, free-range chicken and grass-fed beef, everything about the place was female friendly. The tables were covered with lace tablecloths, no two the same. Food was served on thrift-store-bought, mismatched china. In deference to its name, there was an endless variety of teas, both herbal and otherwise. Normally this was Gianna’s favorite restaurant, and catching up with her mother and sister was something she looked forward to. But not today.
Because getting grilled like a free-range chicken was really unappealing, Gianna pasted an everything’s-just-peachy smile on her face just before sliding into the third of four chairs. The other held purses.
“Hi. Sorry I’m late. Took a while to find a place to park.”
“Oh, sweetheart, don’t worry about it. We haven’t been here very long,” her mother said.
Susan Garrison was in her early fifties and was walking, talking proof that fifty was truly the new forty. She was blond, with some chemical help at the Clip ’n Curl to cover just a sprinkling of gray. Her beautiful blue eyes had been passed on to both of her daughters.
Her sister, Jackie Blake, was about Gianna’s height and had a trim figure even after three kids, but she’d inherited their mom’s blond hair. There was no obvious link from either parent to Gianna’s red shade and the family joke was that her father was the mailman. No one believed that since her parents only had eyes for each other.
“It seems like fo
rever since we’ve done this,” her sister said.
“Everyone is busy,” Susan commented.
“No kidding.” Gianna looked at her sister. “What’s up with the kids?”
“Griffin wants to play basketball, but isn’t he too short? Colin is in preschool, as you know, but he thinks he’s such a big boy. Can you believe Em is two already? She’s home with Frank. He doesn’t have a firefighter shift for a couple of days and said I could use the break.”
The brunette, twentysomething waitress brought a tray containing a china teapot filled with hot water and three cups, each with a mismatched saucer. Her name tag said “Flo.” “Peppermint tea for three.”
“I hope that’s okay, Gianna. It’s what you usually have,” her mother explained.
“It’s fine, Mom.”
With the plastic tray under her arm, Flo pulled out her pad. “Are you ready to order?”
“I think so. I’ll have the portobello mushroom sandwich and salad,” Jackie said.
“Me, too.” Susan folded her menu closed.
Gianna hadn’t had a chance to look, but knew the choices pretty well. She usually ordered exactly like the other two but after the morning she’d had, her rebellious streak kicked in for unknown reasons.
She looked at the waitress. “Grass-fed beef burger and sweet potato fries.”
“The fries are a new addition to the menu. Really yummy,” Flo added. “I’ll get it right out for you.”
When they were alone, Susan poured hot water from the teapot into their cups. “So, how’s work? What’s new?”
Gianna knew the question was for her. Jackie was a stay-at-home mom and couldn’t be more different from herself. She’d never had career ambitions or wanted to leave home and see the world. She married her high-school sweetheart shortly after graduation and their first child was born nine months later. Frank Blake was a county firefighter and they’d been married seven years and had two more children.
Gianna had a failed business, no romantic prospects and a junker car. She didn’t really want to talk about any of it. “Work is fine.”
The Maverick's Christmas Homecoming Page 9
