Kissing Under the Mistletoe

by Marina Adair

  Tuesday she’d gone to Pricilla’s to pick up Holly after school, something that was quickly becoming the norm, and found Gabe building a throne out of plywood and PVC piping, the three Mrs. Clauses sipping peppermint lattes and acting as backseat builders from the comfort of their chairs. Gabe had been sweaty and manly, and the second she’d walked in the Mrs. Clauses had made a sudden and obvious exodus, leaving them all alone. Then Gabe said he had to go, tearing out the door and leaving Regan with the PVC and not a clue as to what she’d done wrong.

  Wednesday she’d been at Stan’s Soup and Service Station, eating a bowl of chipotle tomato bisque while Stan ran a diagnostic on her car, when Gabe walked in to buy a part for one of the work trucks and to grab lunch. With a sexy smile he’d walked over, and Regan, determined to bring things back to seminormal, had asked him if he’d like to have a bowl of soup with her. He’d just taken a seat and inquired about Holly’s play rehearsals when Trey walked in. The youngest DeLuca shot one look at them and Gabe had immediately asked Stan to make his order to go.

  By Thursday, Regan had accepted that whatever she’d felt had been one-sided. Even worse, she accepted that Gabe not only regretted their day together, but it had been such a bad experience that he was going out of his way to avoid her. Whether he was afraid she would get clingy or he was embarrassed to be seen with her, either way it hurt. A lot.

  She told herself that it was for the best. Even convinced herself during the day, but at night when Holly was asleep and Regan was left alone with her thoughts, she would try to figure out what had gone wrong. And how to fix it. Leaving her tired and miserable and without a clue as to what to do—other than cry.

  She’d been reminding herself that this was why she didn’t date—not that they had even gone out on a date, as date usually implied a meal or some kind of public statement—when she walked inside Picker’s Produce, Meats and More to get something of the more variety. Specifically, Rocky Road.

  She had just dumped the second gallon in her cart and was on her tiptoes reaching for a third when a really nice pair of arms stretched around her and grabbed the last carton from the back of the refrigerated case. When she turned, she found Gabe looking stressed and uncomfortable.

  So she was shocked when he apologized for not calling and asked if maybe she could stay after the sewfest so they could talk. Which ruined her day even more, because it reminded her that the sewfest was still planned for his house.

  Instead of shoving the ice cream down his pants and calling him a jerk—or shoving her hands down his pants when he pressed her up against the frozen peas and said he’d missed her—she had agreed to give him ten minutes and then proceeded to buy her ice cream like any sophisticated woman who dabbled in casual sex would do.

  Too bad her heart wasn’t up for casual. Which was why sitting in his kitchen, watching him pad around barefoot with Holly tossed over his shoulder like a sack of flour and acting as if the last week hadn’t happened made her want to scream—at him for making her feel not enough, at herself for believing he was different. Which was why when he came in to grab a beer from the fridge she glared at him.

  He glared back.

  Jordan was right. This session was going to double as a bitchfest.

  “Absolutely nothing,” Regan confirmed, after Gabe had taken a seat on the couch, far away from the women and right next to a sleeping Holly.

  “Really? Because you both looked to be doing a whole lot of something when I saw you Monday,” Jordan said, hand-stitching the gold piping on the frog prince’s cape.

  “Can you say it louder? I don’t think he heard you,” Regan whispered, glancing toward the front room.

  “He was there,” Frankie mumbled around a bag of green glitter beads hanging from her teeth. She didn’t sew, but she was proving lethal with a glue gun. “It isn’t like she’s telling him something he doesn’t already know.”

  “Oh, my God.” Regan slapped her hands over her mouth and looked at Frankie. Her voice dropped to a horrified whisper. “Do you know?”

  “That you and Gabe had sex? Duh.”

  “You were supposed to keep it a secret,” Regan snapped.

  “We actually never had a conversation about keeping anything a secret. Maybe because we haven’t talked about it at all!” Jordan snapped back. “Every time I call I get your voice mail, and when I stop by work you’re busy. Some might even say you’re avoiding me.”

  Which she was. But not because she didn’t want to talk about it. She did. She just didn’t want to put Jordan or Frankie in a position where they felt they had to choose sides. Because Regan would lose.

  “I wasn’t sure what to say,” she admitted.

  “Well, no one had to say anything to me.” Frankie’s tongue peeked out the side of her mouth as she put a dab of hot glue on the frog’s head and secured another plastic gem. “I figured it out. I mean, the look he shot you a second ago made the Kama Sutra look missionary.”

  Really? She thought he’d looked mad. “Do you think anyone else knows?”

  “How could they not?” Frankie snorted, confirming Regan’s biggest fear. St. Helena was a small town that loved to gossip. She’d spent her life being the subject of speculation. She didn’t want to go through that again. Didn’t want that for Holly.

  “The way you guys are avoiding each other around town, it’s obvious you did the dirty and now you’re trying to play it cool,” Frankie added.

  That was the problem. He was playing it cool. Regan, on the other hand, didn’t have a cool bone in her body. Not when it came to him.

  “Hey,” Gabe said from directly behind her and Regan jumped. When she turned, her heart did more than jump. There he stood in jeans and a sweatshirt, his hair sticking up in the back, and a sleeping Holly snuggled against his chest. “I was thinking that maybe I should put Sleeping Beauty down in one of the guest rooms.”

  No, there was nothing cool about her feelings for Gabe.

  Regan nodded. It was all she could do. If she opened her mouth, she was sure something close to “I love you” would escape. And to a guy who’d made it clear he wasn’t looking for serious, those three words would for sure send him burning rubber out of her and Holly’s life.

  Gabe blew so hot and cold she never knew where he stood. But she was pretty sure where she stood—right on the edge of heartbreak. And watching him tuck Holly in bed would send her over. So after Gabe disappeared down the hall, Regan turned back to the table and knew she had to tell her friends.

  She needed a fresh perspective—one that would remind her that, Christmas wish or not, Gabe would not be under her tree come Christmas morning.

  She took a deep breath and leaned in to whisper. “I think I blew it. I wanted to feel like something other than a stressed-out single mom for a day, and like a sex-deprived idiot, I threw myself at him.”

  “You say it like he suffered some kind of hardship.” Jordan laughed. “I was there—well, for the post-nookie clothes scramble—and trust me when I say, it didn’t look like you had to throw yourself too hard. The man couldn’t keep his eyes—or his hands—off you.”

  “That doesn’t mean he likes me, though,” she admitted, humiliation making it hard to see. Or maybe that was the tears.

  “Of course he likes you,” Jordan said, placing her hand on Regan’s. Gabe had said the same thing. Then again, he’d been trying to get into her pants. Sex did stupid things to men—apparently women too.

  “Then why has he been avoiding me all week? I show up, he leaves skid marks out the door. I didn’t expect him to ask me to be his girlfriend or anything. I just didn’t think he’d be ashamed of me.”

  Both women exchanged a look, one that Regan didn’t fully comprehend. But there was enough eyebrow quirking and pointed stares to send her stomach into a nervous nosedive.

  “What?” Regan asked. “What are you not telling me?”

  But she already knew. This was where her friends would tell her that Gabe was way out of her league, and wish
ing for anything more was dangerous. So when Frankie folded her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair and Jordan sighed, Regan’s stomach reappeared in her throat.

  “Fine. I had a talk with Gabe.”

  “What?” That was so not what she expected Jordan would say. And, oh, so much worse. “About what?”

  “About screwing around with single moms. About how the rules are different. About how he needed to really know what he was doing before someone got hurt.” Jordan lowered her voice, continuing before Regan could reply—well, scream. Regan had been on her own since she was eighteen; she didn’t need someone fixing her business. “I get it. I’m a single mom too. I know what it’s like to feel alone and how easy it is to forget you’re a woman. Then some good-looking guy with a great package comes along reminding you what you’re missing, and you drop your pants for a quick scratch.”

  Regan felt her face heat with anger. “You had no right to talk to Gabe or anyone else about my itches! Quickly scratched or otherwise. I’m not Ava. I’m not part of your purity-for-eternity campaign.”

  Lines of concern cut through Jordan’s forehead. “No, you’re not. But you’re also not the kind of person to take something like sleeping with a man lightly.”

  “You don’t even know me,” Regan accused.

  “Yes, I do,” Jordan said, and Regan realized it was true. They may have only met a few weeks ago, but the women in front of her had quickly become two of the closest friends she’d ever had. And Jordan was hitting painfully close to home with her assessment. “I also see the way you look at him, Regan.”

  “We...love...you and don’t want you to get hurt.” Frankie forced the words out as if such an admission were painful.

  Not nearly as painful as Regan’s next words. “Why? Because a man like Gabe could never love a woman like me?”

  “God, no.” Jordan stared Regan down, not continuing until she knew Regan was listening. “Self-loathing is not and never will be the new black. At least not one that you could pull off attractively. You are smart and beautiful and a wonderful pain in the ass.”

  “Is this where you tell me ‘It’s not you, it’s him’?” Regan smiled, a little.

  “No, this is where I tell you that Gabe is not ready for a woman like you. He already raised a family and he’s convinced himself that he doesn’t want another one.”

  The realization that Jordan was right knocked the wind out of her. Gabe had told her the same thing. And until this moment she hadn’t understood that deep in her heart she had been clinging to the hope that maybe he’d change his mind.

  “Do I think he will always be a familyphobe? No.” Jordan took Christmas Kitty’s mittens out of Regan’s hands. They were wrinkled and the fur on the thumb was worried into small tufts. “But I don’t want you and Holly to be the experiment to see if he’s ready. Especially when, for a DeLuca, family always comes first.”

  Even his home spoke volumes for how much he loved his family. Sure it was a bachelor pad with lots of dark furniture, stainless steel, and a television bigger than her Christmas tree. But on nearly every wall and surface were family photos, mementos, signs that Gabe DeLuca was a family man—and he already had a family.

  “Maybe Jordan was wrong about talking to Gabe,” Frankie said, gathering up the leftover sequins and plastic stones and leveling Jordan with a look. “I know if she did that to me, I’d kick her ass. No question.” She looked back to Regan. “If you want me to, just say the word. But I think what she’s saying about the DeLucas is spot on. Do I think he could fall for a girl like you? Totally. You’re all girly and maternal and shit. Do I think he would someday screw you over if his family asked him to? In a heartbeat. So before you go bringing him home for dinner, remember that having someone you love walk out sucks golf balls. But when you’re a kid...you never get over wondering what you did wrong.”

  With that, Frankie stood, shoving the fabric scraps and beads in a bag, and grabbed her keys. “I’ll finish the frog’s head on my own. I’m practically OD-ing on all the estrogen in the air.” She got to the door and stopped, her shoulders slumping. Without turning around she said, in a none-too-nice tone, “I would like nothing more than to hop on my bike and breathe concrete for the next two hours. But since Jordan refused to let me drive the hog in the rain, she’s my ride home.”

  Jordan folded the cape and frog’s body. She was reaching for the broom when Regan grabbed her hand. “I’ll get it. You take Frankie home and I’ll clean up. Thank you...for everything.”

  Jordan threw her arms around her and hugged her tight. “I never meant to make things harder on you. I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

  “I know.” Regan tightened her arms around her friend.

  “You don’t hate me?”

  “No.” Regan laughed even though she felt like crying. Gabe had been put on notice, and Jordan’s intent was heartwarming. But the result was quite the opposite. Regan had worried all week about what she had done wrong. Now she realized that the answer was nothing. She was a single mom, struggling to balance career and family and toting around a lifetime of baggage.

  Her problem didn’t lie in the fact that she wasn’t enough—she was too much.

  She gave Jordan one last squeeze and pulled back. It was better this way. She knew the score, and Holly wouldn’t be hurt later on down the road.

  “Good.” Jordan took her shoulders. “You gonna be okay?”

  Regan nodded. What was she supposed to say? She’d already admitted to attacking Gabe. There was no way she was saying aloud that she might have been stupid enough to actually fall in love with the guy, and that her heart was breaking because she knew he would never love her back.

  CHAPTER 13

  Gabe heard the front door shut and walked out into the front of the house to find Regan. He wanted to talk to her about the last week. He wanted to apologize.

  After she’d scurried off Monday, Jordan had cornered him. Told him that he’d better have his intentions clear with regard to Regan because if he so much as hurt her, Jordan would have his nuts. Gabe had called his brothers. Explained in no uncertain terms that Regan was off-limits in the pursuit of finding Richard. Not that he was giving up on the search, because that was never an option, but he was done using a woman who he knew wasn’t involved.

  The talk hadn’t gone well. In fact, Marc accused him of picking a piece of ass over his family. Which wasn’t true. Gabe just couldn’t justify hurting one family in order to heal his own. And if Regan ever found out that using her to get to Richard was the reason they’d first decided to let her stay, hurt wouldn’t even begin to describe what she’d feel.

  He paused for a moment, just watching her sew. Elbow-deep in gold glittery fabric, her forehead scrunched as she moved to the end of the pant leg, securing metallic purple trim to the seam. Her hair slid over her shoulder as she reached for the scissors and snipped the loose thread.

  Without lifting her head, she said, “I’m almost done. Let me just clean up, and then I’ll grab Holly and get out of your hair.”

  She was hurt. More accurately, he had hurt her. It was there in the way she held her head, the way her body went unnaturally still.

  “No rush,” Gabe said, feeling like an idiot. He knew something had changed between them. He even knew he’d blown it. Hell, he’d stalked her, ruined her career, made love to her on a wine barrel, then ignored her into regret.

  She turned off the sewing machine and started gathering up her things. “I’ll take these out to the car and come back in for Holly.”

  “Regan, about this week—”

  “It’s okay,” she said brightly. Too brightly. Everything about her seemed amped up and all for his benefit. “Jordan told me. I get it.”

  She looked up and everything inside him stilled. There in her big baby blues, hiding under all the professionalism and distance she was creating, was sadness and confusion and shame all wrapped up in one gut-wrenching look.

  Panic pushed at his chest. He
’d gone out of his way to make sure neither he nor his brothers were ever overheard talking about their plan to find Richard. But Monday he’d been frustrated at how the date ended, pissed that Jordan was all in his business, and might have yelled a few choice words at Marc on the phone in his office.

  “Actually, you know what?” Regan’s eyes went from hurt to pissed. “It’s not okay. I get that my life can be a lot to take and that dating someone with a kid has its challenges. And even though it was hard, I never lied to you about where I was at.” She shoved at his chest, her thimble digging into his pec. “But you should have just grown a pair and told me, instead of avoiding me in town and making me feel like you’re ashamed to be seen with me.” Dig. Dig.

  Ashamed? Ah, hell, he’d screwed this one royally. “I’m not ashamed of you.” He took her hand in his and set the offending thimble on the table. Small or not, the thing had punch. “And I wasn’t avoiding you.”

  She raised a brow.

  “Okay, I was avoiding you, but not because I was ashamed.” He slid his arms around her waist and inched her closer. How could anyone ever be ashamed of a woman like Regan?

  That he’d made her feel that way tore at him. That she hadn’t discovered his brothers’ plan relieved him. That he knew he’d eventually have to tell her scared the shit out of him.

  “I spent the first twenty-four years of my life being responsible for my younger siblings, and the last twelve being everyone’s hero. It’s an honor and something I take seriously, and sometimes it’s suffocating as hell.” He paused, remembering how it felt to wake up with her in his arms, and inched her even closer, until he could see the gray flecks sparkle in her eyes and the pulse thundering in her throat. “The other day with you was incredible and intense and I got spooked. Then I saw Holly at Pricilla’s and she was telling me about her party and I wanted it to be perfect so I started building her a damn throne and—”

  Regan pressed three fingers to his mouth. “I don’t need you to be my hero. Holly and I manage just fine.”