Tanya Michaels - Mistletoe Hero

When the only words she could think of seemed trite to the point of insulting, she simply shook her head. “I don’t feel that way.”

He blinked. “But would you be willing to give it a shot? Maybe go on a real date sometime and see-”

“No, thank you. But I’m flattered that you asked.” She started to pat his arm then checked herself, not wanting to be condescending. “I should get back to work now.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t meet her eyes. “I don’t want to hold you up. Thanks for the coffee.”

He fled as if his jeans were on fire.

Damn. She bit the inside of her cheek, but couldn’t think how to make this any less awkward for him. Maybe she could let a few days go by to ease the sting, then have lunch with him. Or a movie. A decidedly nonromantic movie with a group of friends.

“Is it safe for us to come back now?” she heard Tanner ask from the doorway. His voice was sympathetic. “We didn’t want to interrupt.”

“I appreciate that,” she said. Her brothers were pains in the butt, but she adored them.

“Everything okay?” David asked.

“Just peachy.” She smiled at them, then rejoined her father in the main part of the store. He was busy helping bald Mr. Jebson compare camping equipment.

Business picked up over the next hour, and Arianne was grateful to stay busy. She answered gardening questions for two little old ladies, ordered a new shipment of saws, rang up purchases for four customers and told a woman over the phone that while they didn’t officially have gift cards for purchase, Arianne would print some sort of certificate for her husband’s birthday and have Zachariah sign it.

Eventually she hit a lull and couldn’t help thinking about Shane’s unanticipated confession, his optimism that they could build something special. Arianne knew instinctively that she would never reciprocate the sentiment. In fact, one of the reasons she’d always felt so at ease in his company was because he was so…safe. There’d never been any sexual tension.

Arianne was known among family and friends as being cheerfully fearless-which was mostly true-but Waides didn’t mess around when it came to love. They fell hard, and Arianne had never been one for half measures. She dated, but with the exception of some high school heartbreaks, she’d guarded her heart.

She hated to think what could happen if she carelessly gave it to the wrong guy.

Gabe had just started cooking dinner-which, tonight, involved dumping a can of soup into a pot-when his cell phone buzzed and vibrated across the countertop. He saw Waide Supply on the caller ID and considered not answering. What had he been thinking yesterday? He’d been in a strange mood after encountering his father. When he’d seen Arianne, it had been as if something clicked in his brain-help her with the festival, make that his casual farewell after thirty years in this town.

By the time he’d arrived home with his groceries, the idea had begun to seem like more damn trouble than it was worth. There wasn’t anyone here to whom he owed a farewell. Still, he’d given his word.

With a sigh, he snatched up the phone. “Gabe Sloan.”

“You know, for a guy whose living is dependent on paying customers being able to contact you, you’re not that easy to track down,” Arianne scolded lightly.

“Yet you managed.”

“Ever thought about getting business cards? If you need help creating them-”

“Don’t tell me. When you’re not managing the store or drafting community volunteers, you design business cards.”

“Me? No. But Chloe Malcolm does some great marketing work. She put together our Web site for the store.” She paused. “I don’t suppose you have a Web site?”

“Miss Waide, as much as I appreciate your helpful advice-”

She guffawed, an unfeminine but admirably unselfconscious sound.

“-now’s not really the time for me to be building business. I’m leaving soon,” he reminded her, the words warming him. Every time he said it, he felt stronger. Freer.

Arianne was silent a moment. “Do you know where you’re going?”

Even if he did, he wouldn’t give that information to his would-be stalker. Perhaps that wasn’t fair-Arianne had never shown much interest in him before now. After he helped her and Quinn with this festival, she’d go on with her sheltered life and forget all about him.

But just to be on the safe side, he wasn’t leaving her a forwarding address.

He redirected the conversation. “I assume you’re calling about the fair?”

“A bunch of the volunteers are meeting at Whiteberry tomorrow evening. Six-thirty, in the cafeteria. Think you can join us?”

He had some landscaping work to do for Linda Berdino tomorrow, but it got dark earlier every day. “Sure.”

“Great! Then I guess I’ll see you there.” She drew the sentence out, as if there might be more she wanted to say.

“Good night, Miss Waide,” he said firmly. He disconnected and turned his attention to the now-boiling beef-vegetable soup.

The irritating thing about Arianne Waide was not her stubbornness or unsolicited advice, it was her knack for asking really good questions. Where was he going? Another small town? Maybe in Tennessee or North Carolina? He’d visited cousins in Birmingham years ago and thought Alabama had its charms.

Deciding to leave was a good first step, but there was a lot he’d need to do. He couldn’t just throw a bunch of stuff in a duffel bag and take off in his truck…could he?

No. He’d been able to build a living here as a handyman at first because of his notoriety and later because he was really good at what he did. But if he showed up somewhere new, a tall stranger with no local references, he’d be hard-pressed to make ends meet. And he had to decide what to do with this place.

He carried his bowl to the breakfast bar, looking around him. When the Mitchells had put this semiconverted barn on the market, no one had wanted to invest in finishing the renovations. But Gabe had the skills and resources to complete the most necessary repairs and hadn’t cared enough to be bothered by the superficial ones. He wasn’t sure whether anyone would be interested in buying, but he knew he’d at least be selling it in better condition than he’d purchased it.

A rental property, maybe? Assuming he could find someone, rent would provide some monthly income while he got on his feet elsewhere, but he disliked the idea. He was finally contemplating liberation from Mistletoe, and owning a rental home here would be one remaining tether he didn’t need.

What about Jeremy? It was telling that when Gabe considered his last ties to town, he thought of an old barn before his own father.

Then again, that tie had been severed years ago. Gabe had been scared and guilt-stricken, but his father hadn’t noticed. All he’d seen through his contempt was someone who’d dishonored “the sanctity of marriage.” Gabe had thought, rather hysterically, that his father was more upset about Gabe’s involvement with a married woman than the fact two people were dead.

“You’re a minor, and I’m legally bound to house you,” Jeremy Sloan had said. “But as soon as you’re of age, get the hell out.”

Congratulations, Pops. You’ll be getting your wish soon.

ARIANNE PULLED UP to the school at about the same time as her sister-in-law, Rachel. Both of them parked in the bus lanes that were empty for the evening. Arianne got out of her car, then bent to pick up the bags of food and drink tray. A few feet away, she watched as Rachel gathered Bailey’s diaper bag and unfastened the baby’s car seat.

“I feel like I should offer you assistance,” Arianne called, “but…”

Rachel laughed. “I appreciate the thought. Here, let me get the door for you.” With the diaper bag on her shoulder and her daughter sleeping across her chest in some kind of odd sling, Rachel actually had both hands free.

Arianne grinned. “You look like you’re mastering this Mommy gig.”

“Some days more than others,” Rachel admitted.

They filed into the cafeteria, where Quinn and Lilah were seated at a long table. With the festival meeting tonight, they’d decided simply to stay late after school, working on lesson plans and replacing outdated art projects and essays on the classroom walls. Arianne had volunteered to bring dinner so that the four of them could eat and catch up before everyone else arrived.

While Quinn came to Arianne’s side to help carry the food, Lilah made a beeline for Rachel, peering into the durable cloth infant carrier with such delighted awe that Arianne wondered how long it would be before she was made an aunt twice over.

“That smells so good,” Rachel said on a near moan. “When I was pregnant, everyone teased me about eating for two, but my appetite’s actually increased since she was born. Now that I’m nursing, I feel like I’m starving all the time.”

“Well, you look great,” Quinn said, handing her the iced tea that was marked decaf. “Women who’ve given birth recently shouldn’t be that fit. It’s not fair to the rest of us mere mortals.”

Lilah laughed. “Says one of the most gorgeous women in the county.”

Quinn looked especially nice tonight in a cute wraparound dress and high ponytail that was both stylish and playful.

“Thank you,” Arianne told Lilah. “Now maybe she’ll believe me when I tell her Patrick can’t help but notice her.”

“Ari!” Quinn darted a glance toward the hallway, as if making sure no one was around to overhear. “It’s not like I don’t have the confidence to talk to a guy. It’s just more…complicated when he works with you. Huge potential for awkwardness.”

Arianne thought of the uncomfortable conversation she’d had yesterday morning with Shane McIntyre. “You may have a point. I got ambushed yesterday by an admission I wasn’t expecting and awkward barely begins to cover it.”