When the door opened again, Arianne whipped her head around, illogically expecting to see Gabe reappear.

“Brought you some dinner,” Zachariah Waide said.

“Thanks, Dad.” She sighed. “But you know you don’t always have to come back for me. I’m just as capable as David of locking up the store by myself.”

Her father frowned. “I don’t like the idea of an attractive young woman being here late by herself. Especially when she’s my daughter.”

Arianne shook her head at his hypervigilance. This was Mistletoe, after all, hardly a hotbed of violent crime. The last time there’d been a…Abruptly she thought of the dark rumors once surrounding Gabe Sloan. Could they have anything to do with why she couldn’t remember ever seeing him grin or hearing him laugh?

But that scandal was more than a decade ago. Then again, small towns had long memories.

Arianne found herself transported to that moment earlier when the corners of Gabe’s eyes had crinkled and it had looked as if he might smile at her. For that heartbeat of time, she’d teetered on the edge of intoxicating potential. Coaxing a smile from him would be a victory on par with winning a critical play-off game.

And Arianne loved to win.

EXCLUDING PERIODIC PTA meetings and potluck church suppers, Wednesday nights in Mistletoe were not a flurry of social activity. During the summer, with kids out of school and tourists in town, the situation had been different, but when Gabe Sloan walked into On Tap now, he found the pool hall and local watering hole nearly empty. Aside from Nick Zeth throwing darts with a few firemen buddies and a lone couple circling lazily on the tiny dance floor, the only person present was the bartender.

Perfect. Gabe would be left alone without actually being alone.

“Usual?” the bartender asked.

“Yeah. Thanks.” Gabe only ever ordered sodas, which he could have just as easily purchased at the Dixieland Diner on his way home. But the diner was too bright, too crowded, filled with chatty patrons and flirtatious waitresses he didn’t want to encourage.

Had he done anything unintentional to encourage David Waide’s little sister? Arianne. Gabe threw a couple of bills on the counter and reached for his soft drink, perplexed by the bizarre conversation back at the store. “Would you like to have dinner with me?” He wouldn’t have been any more surprised if she’d announced that space aliens were landing on Main Street.

Until this evening, he and the youngest Waide had barely spoken. So why on earth would she suddenly ask him out? Had she lost a bet? Was she trying to make another guy jealous?

His blood chilled at the stray possibility. He’d been a pawn in that particular game before, allowing himself to be manipulated when he was sixteen and stupid. Arianne had no doubt heard the story, even if it was an exaggerated version told by someone with no firsthand account of events. It made her offer even more bewildering. Me and her? She was the sunny only daughter of upstanding citizens, whereas Gabe’s classmates his senior year had snickered and called him Gabriel the Angel of Death-though they’d snickered less audibly after the fistfight between him and Duke Allen.

Gabe couldn’t imagine anyone who would make a more incongruous companion for him than Arianne. Before tonight, he hadn’t given her appearance much thought, but she could be the poster child for wholesome cheer-fair-skinned, always smiling, with long wavy hair and big blue eyes. If he studied her closely, he might even have glimpsed a smattering of freckles above her pert nose. She looked like she should be having afternoon tea with Tinker Bell, not hitting on men nearly a foot taller than her.

Or was he reading too much into her overture? He frowned into his drink. Maybe her invitation hadn’t been romantic in nature at all. Perhaps Arianne, whose family was well-known in Mistletoe and who had grown up among a throng of friends, simply felt sorry for him. Gabriel Sloan, outcast and sinner. He grimaced, the idea of her pity more distasteful than the idea of her romantic interest.

Normally Gabe shopped after sunset to make the most of daylight hours for his outside jobs, but he could change his schedule for a couple of weeks. If he’d been over at Waide Supply around noon, with more people in the store, Arianne wouldn’t have singled him out. Gabe could-

Get a grip. Was he really planning to run from a five-foot blonde he could probably bench-press? No. Now that he’d refused her dinner invitation-rather bluntly, as a matter of fact-she’d probably prefer that they pretend it never happened.

Situation resolved.

Chapter Two

Arianne had grown up with no sisters and was ecstatic that she now had two. It was great to see both her brothers happily wed, especially since she thoroughly approved of the women they’d chosen to marry. Currently Arianne sat on the floor of Lilah Waide’s living room. While David and Rachel Waide, proud parents of three-and-a-half-month-old Bailey, lived in a suburb closer to downtown Mistletoe, Tanner and Lilah lived in a gorgeous, oversize cottage-style home they’d built on the outskirts of town. Lilah said that her favorite parts of the day were the twenty-five-minute ride to and from Whiteberry Elementary; Tanner drove her and picked her up, so they had time at the beginning and end of each day to make each other laugh or privately vent frustrations.

“All right.” Seated on the couch, looking every bit the elementary school teacher with reading glasses perched on the end of her nose, Lilah tapped her pen on the clipboard she held. “Let’s look at the preparations, figure out where the gaping holes are and try to spackle them in.”

The repair metaphor made Arianne think of Gabe. And last night’s encounter. If she’d used a more subtle approach, might he have accepted her invitation? Not that it mattered-Ari didn’t do subtle.

Curled comfortably in a wicker-framed papasan chair that faced the huge back-wall window, fall festival cochair Quinn consulted her own clipboard. “Food is covered. Pete and Vonda and a few of their friends from the senior center are going to run the bingo tent for us. Vonda already went around town, getting people to donate prizes.”

Arianne laughed at that. “She probably terrorized them until they gave her whatever she wanted.” It was impossible to say no to the fiery seventysomething who, like Arianne and Quinn, had been a bridesmaid at Lilah’s wedding last winter. Arianne adored the elderly woman.

Lilah read from her list. “We have some kids from the high school taking care of music for us, and a lot of moms have volunteered this year. The difficult part will be organizing them all. The Kerrigans are setting up the tables and coordinating the judges for the jack-o-lantern contest. Brenna and Adam promised to be in charge of face-painting. Ari, can we put you down to work the kissing booth?”

“Sure, why not? It’s for a good cause.” Most of the guys in Mistletoe were harmless. They’d donate their dollar to the school and give her a quick peck before disappearing into the festival crowd to try their hand at a skill game or purchase food. The fact that Arianne had two looming brothers-who had apparently used up all the good height genes in her family-dissuaded any wiseacres from trying anything inappropriate at the booth.

Every year, Whiteberry Elementary, where both Quinn and Lilah taught, hosted a fall festival fundraiser. They held it downtown because the parking at the school itself was too limited, and local businesses helped sponsor the activities. Quinn and Lilah had agreed to cochair this year’s festival committee. They’d somehow dragged Arianne and their mutual friend Brenna Pierce along for the ride, although neither of them worked for the school or had kids enrolled there. Brenna, however, had been excused from this afternoon’s meeting. By Thanksgiving, her work schedule would be jam-packed with holiday pet-sitting, so she was taking advantage of a quiet few days now to go with her boyfriend to Tennessee and visit his three kids.

“Honestly,” Lilah said as she scanned her sheet, “we have the majority of it covered. But there are some minor construction and wiring issues we’ll need help with. I’ve already drafted Tanner. I wish we had more active dads in my class this year. The mothers are great help when it comes to the bake sale and signing up for story circle, but there aren’t many who are comfortable with power tools. Or capable of heavy lifting. We’re shorthanded on muscle this year, especially since the PE coach broke his arm last weekend.”

“I don’t know what he was thinking.” Quinn shook her head. “A man his age jumping at a skateboard park!”

Arianne pinned Quinn with a gaze. “Weren’t you supposed to be getting us more muscle, in the form of the cute new teacher Mr. Flannery?”

Quinn held up her hands. “I will, I swear. I just didn’t have the opportunity yet. He was out today with the stomach bug that’s been going around the classes.”

“Patrick Flannery?” Lilah grinned. “He is cute. Maybe you should take him some soup and well-wishes.”

“Nah,” Arianne said. “You can do the well-wishes over the phone without risking germs. Plus, if you ask him for a favor when he’s feverish, he may agree simply because he’s too delirious to come up with an excuse.”

“Machiavellian,” Quinn said with admiration. “I bet you can get a guy to agree to anything!”

“Not so. Just last night…” It occurred to Arianne that maybe she didn’t want to share the story of how Gabe Sloan had shot her down. Not because she was embarrassed-it wasn’t that big a deal-but because her friends might read too much into it. “Hey, why am I the only one without a clipboard here? I feel cheated.”