Mistletoe Hero

by Tanya Michaels

  Gabe lined up his shot and told himself to keep his eye on the ball. Instead, he lifted his head, holding Arianne’s gaze. “She’s not even close.”

  Arianne sucked in a breath and went silent. Thank God. He knocked in the first five balls. She sank the six, but just barely. He knew even as she called the seven-nine combo that she wouldn’t make it.

  He won the game.

  “Guess I deserved that,” she muttered. “I let—”

  “Arianne?”

  They both turned at the masculine voice. Shane McIntyre was approaching—slightly unsteady on his feet—his round face a scrolling billboard of emotions. Surprise, hurt, indignation. More hurt.

  “Shane.”

  Gabe recognized the note of pity in Arianne’s voice. He’d heard it directed at him earlier in the evening and could just imagine how it abraded the other man’s nerves. Had she dumped the guy? Gabe didn’t remember hearing their names linked together, but then, he wasn’t exactly in the loop.

  The man curled his lip. “I don’t believe this,” he said, his words faintly slurred. “What are you doing with him?”

  Arianne narrowed her eyes, all traces of sympathy erased. “I assume that question was rhetorical because we both know I don’t owe you any explanations for how I spend my time.”

  “Right.” He gave a vicious nod and took a step forward. “Because I’m no one important, just someone who cares about you.”

  Gabe laid a hand on the guy’s shoulder, determined that he wasn’t getting a single inch closer to Ari in his current state. “McIntyre, maybe you should save this discussion for later and just let the lady enjoy her evening.”

  Shane rounded on him. “Let her enjoy you, you mean? You’re not worthy of taking her trash out, you son of a—” He broke off, eyes wide, at the sight of Gabe’s arm drawn back.

  Gabe, who hadn’t even realized he’d made a fist, was far more horrified than his would-be target. Pole-axed, he dropped his hand to his side. He glanced toward Arianne, wondering if she was appalled by his behavior, and noticed that the pool players at the neighboring tables had paused in their games. Some had drinks in their hands and were surreptitiously watching over the rims while others stared openly. What did they see? A longtime troublemaker agitating one of their own?

  As if Shane had sensed a change in energy, he squared his shoulders in challenge. “What’s it going to be, Sloan? Should we take this outside?”

  “Of course not!” Arianne interjected. “What is this, junior high?”

  At her contemptuous tone, Shane lost his smirk. “Sorry, Arianne. But—

  She stepped between the two men. “We’re friends. And as a friend, I’m telling you to find Nick or Josh to drive you home.”

  “And leave you with—”

  “Now,” she said. “Before you do anything else you’ll regret tomorrow.”

  Shane glared at both of them, but wisely shut up. The moment he melted back into the crowd, Arianne exhaled in relief.

  “I’ll be back in a sec,” she told Gabe, betraying no hint of how she felt about his interference. “I want to make sure he asks someone for a lift.”

  People were no longer staring, but the buzz of their speculative conversations scratched at Gabe’s skin. He downed the rest of his beer, wishing he were anywhere else in the world right now. As he set down the empty bottle, he saw Quinn and Patrick returning, their faces flushed with happiness and exertion. He felt like a miscast actor in someone else’s movie. He didn’t belong in this quaint foursome scene. He was more comfortable in his perennial role as outsider. Arianne should be here with Quinn, Patrick and someone like McIntyre. Well, not McIntyre—he’d behaved like a jackass tonight. Arianne deserved better. Than either of us.

  He attempted a smile at Quinn, but doubted it was convincing. “Hey, you guys, do me a favor? Tell Arianne that I’m gonna get going. But I’ll see everyone Saturday.” They were supposed to start initial festival setup downtown.

  “But…” Quinn bit her lip. “Sure. Okay.”

  Gabe nodded to Patrick. “Thanks for inviting me, man.”

  Despite how the evening had turned out, Patrick had been the first person in a long time to extend a simple, no-strings-attached gesture of friendship. Gabe didn’t count Arianne’s asking him to dinner. She was anything but simple.

  As he passed the bar, he heard her call him but continued his measured strides toward the door, hoping she would assume the noise drowned her out and just let him go. Good luck with that plan. He may not have known Arianne long, but he knew her better than that.

  She must have rushed, elbowing her way through the boisterous mass of people, to catch up with him just as he stepped out onto the sidewalk.

  “You’re leaving,” she said, full of accusation. “Haven’t we already discussed the futility of trying to run away?”

  He looked her in the eye, then wished he hadn’t. Her fierce expression made him feel like a coward. “I’m not running anywhere. I came, I shot pool, I finished my drink. I’m going home.” Home. The word burned like acid on his tongue.

  She reached up and cupped his cheek. That contact burned, too, in a far more bittersweet way. “I’m sorry about what happened earlier.”

  Ducking away from her touch, he gave a short bark of laughter. “You’re the only one who doesn’t have a reason to apologize.”

  “Then please let me apologize on my friend’s behalf.” She sighed, her expression earnest. “Shane’s a good guy, honestly.”

  Even as Gabe appreciated her loyalty, it stuck in his craw the way his fellow Mistletonians made excuses for each other, gave each other the benefit of the doubt. Usually.

  “I hurt his feelings earlier this week,” she added, “and he took it out on you.”

  Gabe didn’t doubt she was telling the truth, but would McIntyre have behaved that way tonight if it had been anyone else shooting pool with Arianne? “He took it out on me because he doesn’t like me.”

  “True.” Arianne pursed her lips. “Which is weird because you’re so warm, cuddly and lovable.”

  She’d gone from contrition to criticism? He clenched his truck keys in his fingers. “I don’t need this.”

  “Are you sure?” she persisted. “Don’t reach out to people because they deserve it—hell, maybe they don’t—do it for yourself.”

  Who was she to dole out unsolicited advice? She’d obviously confused herself with a self-help guru. And confused him with someone who cared. “Good night, Arianne.”

  He stepped off the curb.

  “Gabe?”

  Against his better judgment, he turned. “Yes?” The single syllable held fourteen years of weariness.

  She stood on her toes, sacrificing balance for height and letting herself stumble against him. His arms went around her reflexively. She placed a quick kiss just to the left of his mouth—if he turned his head a fraction of an inch, his lips could capture hers—and then stepped away.

  “Thank you for a wonderful time,” she said breathlessly.

  Chapter Seven

  “Brenna!” Arianne gratefully slowed to a walk. Her brother David swore that jogging was an excellent way to clear one’s head and relieve stress. David was obviously out of his mind because she was every bit as tense as she had been when she’d climbed out of bed an hour ago. Plus, now her calves ached.

  On the opposite sidewalk, local pet-sitter Brenna Pierce waved with her free hand. In her other, she held the handle of a double dog leash. Two dachshunds waddled out in front of her.

  After a quick check for nonexistent traffic, Arianne crossed the street. “Good to see you. Have fun on your trip?”

  The redhead grinned broadly from within her hoodie. “It was fantastic. Adam’s kids are as great as he is. He and I will both be there tomorrow to help.”

  “Thanks, we can use the extra hands. Especially now.” As the two women fell in step together, Arianne explained how they’d decided to add a partial pirate ship deck. And who would be building it.

>   “Gabriel Sloan, huh? Your influence,” Brenna deduced.

  “I did have something to do with it,” Arianne admitted. The question was, would he honor the commitment she’d bullied him into accepting?

  You don’t know when to stop, David had once warned when she was younger. At the time, she was pretty sure her oh-so-mature response had been to stick out her tongue. Now she conceded that he had a point.

  Why hadn’t she allowed Gabe his dignified retreat last night? Or, having cornered him, why couldn’t she simply have apologized for Shane’s temporary idiocy and left it at that without lecturing? Of course, neither of those sins compared to the crowning audacity of kissing him good-night.

  If she were going to scare him away from the festival for the sake of a kiss, she should have at least made it worth it. That reckless peck had done nothing more than whet an impossible appetite.

  She covered her face with her hands and groaned behind her fingers.

  “Problem?” Brenna asked, amusement lacing her curiosity. She stopped, letting the dogs sniff between a hydrangea bush and a Bradford pear tree.

  Arianne took a deep breath. “Impulse control issues, a stubborn streak longer than the Chattahoochee, no common sense whatsoever…Take your pick.”

  “I wasn’t going to pry, but does this have anything to do with some kind of commotion at On Tap? Adam and I dropped in for a drink after I’d done my final pet-sit for the night,” Brenna admitted. “No one said anything directly to me, but I thought I overheard someone mention that you’d been there earlier on a date. With Gabe.”

  It was Mistletoe. People probably would have commented on Arianne being there with Gabe even without Shane’s creating a scene. Still, she glanced skyward in the hope that maybe her family wouldn’t hear any rumors about what had happened. She didn’t want them interrogating her further about Gabe, nor did she want their friendships with Shane jeopardized over a lapse in judgment and one too many drink specials.

  “Commotion might be a bit of an exaggeration,” she objected. “Date isn’t entirely accurate, either. We were both there playing pool with Quinn and Patrick Flannery, the new teacher at Whiteberry. Met him yet? He’s a cutie.”

  “As cute as Gabe?” Brenna asked, thwarting the attempted subject change.

  Gabe Sloan couldn’t be cute even if he were wearing a pair of fuzzy bunny ears and held a baby in each arm. He was sexy and withdrawn and not currently a candidate for a healthy, romantic relationship. Arianne wanted to help him heal in any way she could, but she had too much self-preservation to date a guy that wounded.

  “Patrick and Gabe are both good-looking in different ways,” she said diplomatically. “So it’s difficult to compare them.”

  “And you’re sure you aren’t dating Gabe?” Brenna asked.

  Arianne laughed. “Wouldn’t I know if I were?”

  “Right. Sorry. It’s just that you’ve made it clear that you find him attractive. Aren’t you the same woman who counseled me over the summer that if you like a guy, you go out there and get him?”

  Arianne opened her mouth to explain that it wasn’t like that between her and Gabe. “I kissed him.”

  “Ha!” Brenna’s exclamation got a companionable yip from one of the dogs. “Now that sounds more like the Arianne I know. Did he kiss you back?”

  “It wasn’t really that kind of kiss. Just a quick peck to end the evening.”

  “In other words, a traditional kiss good-night?” Brenna spared her the obvious statement that their evening sounded an awful lot like a date, but her expression spoke volumes. “You planning to kiss him again?”

  “Definitely not.”

  Planning it? No.

  Fantasizing about what it would be like if Gabe ever let himself get carried away, the sensation of having all that sensual intensity focused solely on her?

  Well, that was a different story.

  THERE WAS NOTHING more absurd than three large men who were waiting to pounce, trying to look inconspicuous.

  As soon as Arianne entered the store, she spotted her brothers and father clumped around the register. The urge to spin on her heel and go right back the way she came was nearly overwhelming.

  “Don’t start,” she cautioned.

  Tanner had the gall to look puzzled. “Is that any way to greet your family? I, for one, don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

  Zachariah guffawed. “Nice try, son, but I raised her smarter than that. We wanted to talk to you, Ari.”

  Like this was a newsflash? “Do I get to at least take off my coat and pour some coffee before the Spanish Inquisition?”

  “Is it true Shane and Gabe came to blows over you?” David asked, concern creasing his handsome face. “See whoever you like, but I want to know my little sister is safe and not dating some nut with a volatile temper.”

  “No one came to blows! Honestly. You know I love Mistletoe, but the local grapevine needs to simmer down.” She shrugged out of her jacket and decided to go for that coffee. If they wanted to follow, fine, but she hadn’t slept well and she wasn’t postponing her caffeine fix to answer ludicrous allegations.

  No one trailed her down the hall, but she couldn’t stay in the back forever. She was officially on the clock and would need to open the store in ten minutes. Besides, since the topic had already been introduced, she wanted to find out exactly what was being spread around town.

  “No punches were thrown,” she reiterated when she returned. “Just some angry words. And Shane instigated those. Did the rumor mill manage to get that right?” Or were people who didn’t have the facts blaming Gabe for events he hadn’t caused?

  “Shane picked a fight with Sloan?” David asked. “Not very bright.”

  “Actually, Shane picked a fight with me.”

  “Even less bright,” Tanner said, a dangerous gleam in his light eyes. “Should we kick his ass?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Arianne said. “I don’t need anyone riding to my rescue.” She didn’t plan ever to admit that there was a tiny, uncivilized part of her that had thrilled to the idea of Gabe physically defending her. Not that she needed to be protected from Shane.

  “It wasn’t that big a deal,” she said. “Shane was upset over my rejecting him at the beginning of the week. Mix a bruised ego with a bad day and a few beers, you get one guy with a big mouth, casting aspersions on my taste in men and character in general.”

  Since she’d ruled out the bloodthirsty approach, David went for the pragmatic. “We can ban him from the store. No one talks to a Waide like that.”

  “What about a Sloan?” she mused, feeling that protective rush again, the one that made her want to take Gabe into her arms and soothe him with kisses. Except that her imagined scenario only remained soothing for about ten seconds before it blazed into something far more primal and far less altruistic.

  “Huh?” Tanner asked. “What are you talking about?”

  “You said no one talks to a Waide like that. What makes us special? You don’t think Gabe deserves the same courtesy?”

  The men exchanged glances, startled by her outburst.

  “Never mind,” she said. “I was just trying to make a hypothetical point. Can we get to work now?”

  “You heard her,” Zachariah said. “Let’s get this place open for business. That Alaskan cruise your mother wants to take isn’t going to pay for itself.”

  Arianne smiled gratefully at her father. He and David went in the back to switch the phone from its prerecorded message over to live calls and get things up and running in the office. Tanner gathered up his coat and briefcase, preparing to go.

  “Bye, shortie.” He ruffled her hair, but then stood there, searching her face instead of leaving.

  “I’m fine,” she said through her teeth. “Just annoyed at Shane’s macho proprietary B.S. He had no right to treat Gabe like that.”

  Tanner laughed. “My guess is that Gabe can take care of himself.”

  He shouldn’t have to. No one sh
ould go through life alone, she thought, wildly grateful that she hadn’t been an only child. Gabe’s mother had died during his childhood, and she didn’t think his father had remarried. Were both Sloan men lonely? Maybe she shouldn’t worry so much about helping him reconnect with the random and assorted citizens of Mistletoe and simply help him build a stronger relationship with his dad. She couldn’t imagine where she’d be without her own family.

  She made shooing motions toward the door. “Be gone already.”

  “Okay. But I’ll be back. This conversation isn’t necessarily over.”

  “You mean, you’re going to be obnoxious about this?”

  “Put yourself in my shoes,” he said. “If you were worried about me or David, would you leave us alone to muddle through it ourselves or butt in with nosy questions and blunt advice?”

  Arianne sighed. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  GABE WORKED FEVERISHLY on Friday morning, trying to squeeze an entire day’s productivity into half his normal hours…and trying to take his mind off Arianne’s surprising exit last night. He thought he’d be the one to walk away, yet she’d kissed him, then disappeared back inside before he could even process what had happened.

  A wonderful time, she’d said. Which part? His being socially awkward with her, nearly decking a friend of hers or leaving without a proper goodbye?

  Admit it, you were having a good time, too. Before Shane’s interruption, Gabe had enjoyed shooting pool, bantering with Arianne.

  He worked through his normal lunch hour, then called it a day around two o’clock, wanting the afternoon to explore new opportunities. At home he put in calls to a distant cousin and to Mike, letting them know he’d appreciate it if they kept their ears to the ground regarding job openings or reasonably priced housing. He even phoned Nicole Jones, although he experienced an irrational slash of guilt when he heard her voice.