“I didn’t get the job.”
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”
Was she? Would he want her to be?
“Gabe.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “Are you busy after this? I was hoping maybe we could talk.”
“No—I mean, yes. No to the first question,” he backpedaled. Would they be able to reach some kind of compromise, instead of ending on Wednesday’s disastrous note? “After this, I’m all yours.”
GABE HADN’T PARTICIPATED in one of the town’s festivals since he was a boy, but even as distracted as he was today by thoughts of Arianne, he was enjoying himself. As predicted, the mayor and his wife put on quite a spectacle for the crowd when she forced him to “walk the plank.” A few of the Whiteberry faculty members chipped in to have Patrick thrown into “Davy Jones’s locker,” as a kind of initiation.
Patrick grumbled teasingly from within the ball pit, “Whatever happened to the days when folks said howdy by baking the new guy a cake?”
Lilah Waide also got tagged three different times by her students to go off the plank into the pit; by the third time, though, she’d caught a grinning Tanner actually giving the kids dollar bills.
“There will be payback,” she cheerfully threatened her husband as Gabe helped her out of the pit.
Quinn passed by midmorning to check in on the festivities and to rather thoughtfully bring Gabe a freshly made funnel cake—also known as an elephant ear because of its size and shape. Warm and gooey with powdered sugar, the fried dough dessert was almost too big for one person to eat alone, and he caught himself scanning the crowd for Arianne. Even though he knew that she was busy elsewhere, he automatically wanted to share this with her, see her smile at the first sweet bite. He wanted to kiss away the dots of sugar she’d no doubt have clinging to the corner of her lips.
The thought reminded him that she was working in the kissing booth. Now that he’d seen her attire for the day, the jealousy he’d battled earlier returned to gnaw at him.
“How are things going over at Arianne’s booth?” he asked Quinn, hoping he sounded nonchalant rather than covetous.
The look she gave him was far too knowing. “Have you seen the poster over there? It’s a big set of lips that represents how much money they’re trying to raise. Each girl colors part of it red during her shift to show whether or not she’s on target to make their goal. Poor Ari’s probably gonna end up kissing a lot of frogs today for the sake of the school. If it helps to know…”
“Yes?” Gabe prompted, surprised to see Quinn blushing.
“Lilah and I asked her to work some of the shifts at the booth, but that was before…you.”
Her words humbled him. He recalled too vividly how he’d hurt Arianne by making her think he wouldn’t want anyone to know that they were a newly formed couple. Who had he been kidding? It was Mistletoe; people would figure it out. By not openly acknowledging his budding feelings for Arianne, he wasn’t protecting her but merely fueling the potential for speculative gossip. He should be thrilled that people might link him and Arianne; she was certainly the best thing to happen to him in a long time.
“Quinn, you don’t owe me any explanations. But thanks for thinking of me.”
She shot him a mischievous smile. “Well, I just know how I’d feel if Patrick was over there working that particular booth. So I empathize.”
He dropped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed in a quick, casual hug and thanked her again for the funnel cake.
“I promise to be back later with something to drink,” she said. “But the cakes were too big for me to carry beverages, too!”
The festival committee had agreed ahead of time that the pirate plank fundraiser would only be open for certain posted hours since a lot of the officials who were being “dunked” also had other duties they had to perform while they were here. Gabe hung a sign that invited interested parties to come back in an hour, and used the break to check the platform stability and replace the dozen or so balls that had fallen out while victims were exiting the enclosure.
He was checking underneath the platform to see if any balls had rolled under there when there was a slight, raspy sound. A woman clearing her throat. He hopped up.
“We’ll be open again in an—Mrs. Ortz?”
Looking distinctly uncomfortable, Earline Ortz stood, clutching her handbag and peering at him through horn-rimmed glasses. Even though they’d never spoken, seeing her gave him a macabre sense of déjà vu. In the weeks before he’d slept with Shay, he’d dreamed of her often; after her death, it became her parents’ grief-stricken faces that haunted his nightmares.
He wanted to ask Mrs. Ortz what he could do for her, but the answer was painfully obvious: nothing. She’d lost her only child, and he could never take back his part in that.
She cleared her throat a second time. “I’m working the crafts booth for the church,” she said suddenly, as if to explain her appearance here.
The booth that was down on Poplar Street? It was three blocks away. He remained silent, knowing she’d sought him out for a reason, uncertain he wanted to know what that reason was.
She squared her slim shoulders. “Mr. Sloan, not a day goes by that I don’t miss my daughter. I loved her very much.”
He winced, wondering if there would ever come a time when the guilt left him completely. Rationally he knew that he was no more to blame than the Templetons, but it was hard to be rational about it when they were dead.
“I’m sure she loved you, too,” he replied stiffly. He’d endured the looks on the Ortzs’ faces when he passed them in town, endured being the occasional subject of gossip, had even endured being questioned by the police, but there had never been any direct confrontation. Was that why Earline was here now, to finally blame him face-to-face?
“But even though I loved Shay,” Earline said, her voice cracking when she said her daughter’s name, “I wasn’t blind to her faults. Her father never wanted to see her as anything other than his little girl, but…Mr. Sloan, are you a churchgoing man?”
“Not regularly,” he admitted.
“We talk about the power of forgiveness, even as we cling to grudges and old hurts. Miss Waide was right in what she said this week. It’s been fourteen years, and you shouldn’t be punished forever. I…Between you and me, Mr. Sloan, I want you to know, I think it was a terrible accident involving people who’d made bad judgments in their personal life. I don’t think—It wasn’t your fault.”
Gabe was appalled to find that his eyes stung. Unchecked emotion welled up in him. Not even his own father had ever absolved him of responsibility for Shay’s death. If anything, Jeremy had implied that his adulterous son had reaped what he’d sown, the “wages of sin” being death. Gabe was overcome with the urge to hug Mrs. Ortz, but recognized that, in spite of her benevolence today, she probably wouldn’t return his warm and fuzzy sentiments.
“Mrs. Ortz.” There was a lump in his throat, and his choked voice sounded alien in his own ears. “Thank you.”
She paused as if she might answer, then merely nodded and bustled away.
As the woman retreated down the path between buildings, Gabe looked around him. The sky seemed bluer, the birdsong seemed more harmonious. It was a new world.
No, the world’s the same. It’s a new you. And he knew exactly who had been responsible for most of the recent changes in his life. If not for what Arianne had said at the town hall, would Earline have been moved to make today’s overture? For the first time in fourteen years, he felt like a free man, unshackled from shame and other people’s censure.
I have to tell Ari.
He covered the distance that led to the kissing booth, then drew up short at the line. There were at least half a dozen paying customers in front of him. Gabe wanted to knock them all aside, take her into his arms and share with her his unbelievably good news.
Since the fair’s patrons were good sports here for a bit of fun—he noticed many of the guys flirting with Arian
ne in bad piratespeak—they paid their dollar, dropped a quick kiss and went away. The line moved at a brisk clip. Ari, who was busy making change in the cash box and filling in tiny premarked sections of the lip poster, had yet to notice him. As he waited his turn with the woman he’d foolishly tried to walk away from, Gabe realized what he wanted to do.
He saw the exact moment she spotted him. She froze in the middle of teasing Beau Albright—the guy had made a joke about the size of his cannon, and Arianne had pretended disgust, calling him a bilge rat. Her eyes locked with Gabe’s and even from this distance, the electric current between them was unmistakable.
Hell with this. I’m claiming what’s mine. He reached into his pocket, slapped the patch over his eye and cut in line.
“Away wi’ ye,” he growled to the two guys who’d been ahead of him.
Arianne put a hand on her hip, projecting a fierce demeanor, but her lips twitched in amusement. And desire for him danced in her eyes. “And what d’ ye think yer doing?”
Gabe slapped his dollar down on the cash box, then stepped behind the table.
“You know,” she whispered, a sweet quaver in her voice as she melted against him, “you’re not really supposed to be back here.”
He grinned. “Pirates don’t have to follow rules.” Then he bent her backward over his arm and kissed her with fourteen years’ worth of pent-up emotion, never wanting to come up for air, never wanting to return to the bleak world as it had been before Arianne. Distantly he was aware of applause and whistles.
Pulling away, he studied her face, hoping his stunt hadn’t angered her.
She winked at him. “So does this mean you’re okay with people knowing we’re dating?”
“The more, the better.”
Starting with all the guys behind him who’d been planning to kiss Gabe’s girl. He reached into his wallet and extracted all the cash he had—two twenty-dollar bills.
Ari’s eyes went wide. “Forty bucks?”
“Does that meet your shift quota?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“Then I claim the pirate queen for my own,” he informed the crowd.
Onlookers who hadn’t expected to get nearly this much entertainment value hooted and stamped their feet in approval. Arianne squeaked in surprise when he hefted her into his arms and carried her away.
“I should apologize for my rash behavior,” he told her, with absolutely no intention of doing so. “But you know how it is when you get an impulse. You have to act on it.”
“I CAN’T BELIEVE I LET YOU talk me into this,” Gabe groused good-naturedly from the nursery doorway.
“As if you had better plans!” Arianne wasn’t fooled by his bluster. He looked perfectly content to be here with her. And since she’d never spent this much time alone with a baby, she greatly appreciated the extra pair of hands. She’d canceled going to an annual Halloween bash one of her college friends threw, but she didn’t mind.
“Do you even get trick-or-treaters out where you live?” she asked, trying to picture Gabe handing out mini candy bars to three-foot-tall princesses and goblins.
“No, which is my point. We could have had a completely uninterrupted Halloween evening.” He waggled his eyebrows. “You could have busted out that lady pirate costume….”
She shot him a look as she finished dressing her niece. “As I recall, you ripped that pirate costume trying to get it off me last weekend.”
“Ah, yes.” He smiled in fond recollection. “Good times.”
“Here, come take Bailey for me.” The high-tech diaper pail was getting full, and Arianne needed a few minutes and two free hands to figure out how to empty it.
Gabe obliged, but held Bailey slightly away from his body, eyeing her as nervously as if she were a ticking bomb. Which in some ways, Arianne supposed, babies were.
Arianne laughed. “You’re not scared, are you?”
“Scared of this beautiful girl?” He grinned at the infant, who cooed adoringly in return. “Of course not. What I’m scared of is dinner with your family next weekend.”
The Waides often had Sunday dinner as a family, but this weekend was Rachel and David’s first away from the baby. They’d gone to nearby Helen, Georgia, leaving Bailey in the care of her doting aunt. Arianne tried not to take it personally that they’d called eight times to check on the baby and had only been gone since that morning. When the family reconvened for their usual group meal next week, Gabe would be joining them.
“They’ll love you,” she promised, passing by him toward the garage. “But if you want any more pointers—”
“Enough with the pointers. I didn’t study as hard for the SATs as you’ve been drilling me for this meal.”
Was she really that bad? she wondered as she washed her hands. All she wanted was for everyone to see Gabe the way she did—warm and wonderful. He was coming out of his shell more, but it wasn’t easy to overcome a decade of antisocial habits.
She joined them in the living room, where Gabe had set the baby on an activity blanket on the floor. “You know what I think would be fun?”
Gabe looked imploringly heavenward. “Please let there be costumes involved in this suggestion.”
“Fetishist!” she scolded. “I was thinking about a book club.”
“A book club?” he echoed, looking at her as if she’d suddenly started speaking Swahili.
“Yeah. You like to read, right? Why not get a group of our friends together, maybe every two weeks. We could decide what we wanted to read, then talk about the story—the themes, the symbols, what we liked, what we would have changed. My mom and dad belong to one and really enjoy it.”
He’d gone from looking confused to looking the same way he had earlier when he’d smelled a dirty diaper. “I don’t know, Ari. I like reading whatever I’m in the mood for when I have the time, not trying to meet someone else’s deadline. Themes? Symbols? Half your friends are teachers.”
“So?” She plopped down on the floor next to Bailey. “I thought you liked Quinn and Patrick and Lilah.”
“I do. I just have…a different background.”
She winced. Did he feel somehow inferior because he hadn’t gone to college? She’d been trying to brainstorm ways to make him feel more included.
After the festival last weekend, they’d gone to her place and made love for hours. And then they’d talked for hours. Gabe hadn’t abandoned his job search outside of Mistletoe. He’d told her candidly that he did want to be with her and that they could discuss their options as individual opportunities arose, but he wanted at least to investigate those possibilities instead of continuing to stagnate the way he’d allowed himself to for so long.
“You understand, don’t you?” he’d asked.
Yes.
But understanding didn’t quell that horrible sensation she got in the pit of her stomach whenever she thought about him leaving. He had such potential here! People were just getting to know him. Arianne kept hoping that maybe if he strengthened his relationships in Mistletoe—maybe played softball with Nick or invited Patrick over for a video game showdown or doubledated with Lilah and Tanner at On Tap Friday nights…
She was a lousy girlfriend, she admitted to herself as she watched him play with the baby. What kind of loyal supporter helped you proofread résumés while at the same time secretly crossing her fingers that nobody would call you about a job?
Chapter Fifteen
Arianne had just parked her car Friday afternoon when her cell phone rang. “Hello?”
“Where are you?” Gabe asked, his tone jubilant.
“Outside the post office. I promised Mom I’d run in before they closed today and pick her up some stamps. Why?”
“Because I thought we might have dinner together and celebrate some minor news.”
She leaned back in her seat, loving how happy he sounded. “I’m always up for a celebration. What’s the news?”
“That college in South Carolina? They want to have a phone intervie
w with me next week, and if that goes well, meet me in person. They also offer an internship program for employees who are interested in pursuing degrees.”
“That’s great.” But the words of congratulations were like gravel in her mouth. Did he have to sound so overjoyed about getting away from here?
He tuned into her dismay immediately. “We’ll figure something out. You know I don’t want to stop seeing you.”
“Neither do I.” But seeing him would be more difficult if they were in two separate states.
It’s not as if they were talking about a short-term assignment, where he went for a few quarters of college work and came back. Even as happy as he’d seemed during the week since the festival, he’d never talked about settling permanently in Mistletoe.
Arianne tried to imagine herself anywhere else and failed. This town was as much her family as David or Tanner. “You know,” she said, “Mistletoe does have a really good community college.”
“So you’ve mentioned. About a dozen times this week.” He sighed, and she felt terrible, as if she’d sucked the wind from his sails. “It’s almost five. If you’re going to run into the post office, I should let you go.”
“What about dinner?” Nice going, Ari. He’d been so upbeat when he called.
“You can call me back,” he said tersely. Then he disconnected.
Arianne got out of the car, determined to get her reservations under control so that by the time she spoke to him again, she could sound genuinely congratulatory instead of resentful.
A man leaving the building with his mail held the door open for her, and she stopped in her tracks.
There was a reproachful look in his familiar silvery eyes. “You going in or not?” he asked.
“You!” It seemed like a sign from the heavens. “You’re Gabe’s father.”
The man shifted uncomfortably as if uneasy with that designation. “I’m Jeremy Sloan.”
Jeremy Sloan, the man who’d loved his dead wife more than the son who had lived. “I’m Arianne Waide, your son’s girlfriend.” Which made them like in-laws once removed, and Ari had never been shy about giving her relatives, even the distant ones, advice.
Mistletoe Hero Page 14
