Mistletoe Hero

by Tanya Michaels

  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 swit
ched 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 i
llusions, 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.