Mistletoe Hero

Quinn couldn’t quite mask her surprise; Arianne didn’t bother trying. Her mouth fell open. She’d planned to wear him down, but she hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly. Damn, I’m good.

“That’s right,” Quinn said. “The fair’s October 24, and we would appreciate any help you can give us getting ready.”

“Two weeks,” Gabe muttered, almost to himself. Then he nodded. “I should be able to make that work.”

Make it work? Was he still talking about the festival?

Recalling the times her mom had used a good meal to coax conversation from reluctant men, Arianne invited, “Why don’t you join us for breakfast and we can talk about the fair some more?”

“No. Thank you,” he added with a polite nod toward Quinn. “Got groceries in the back.”

“We won’t keep you then,” Quinn said.

Speak for yourself. “Quinn, would you mind putting our names down for a table? I’ll be there in just a second,” Arianne promised.

Quinn nodded without hesitation, but Arianne knew her friend would be full of questions once they were alone. As soon as Quinn walked away, Arianne’s gaze snapped back to Gabe, his pull on her practically tangible. She sighed inwardly. Why are the hot ones emotionally unavailable?

“I’m glad you’ve changed your mind about the fair,” she said. “When did you decide to help?”

“About three minutes ago,” he said. “I was on my way home, thinking about something you said the other day.”

“Yeah?” She went tingly and warm with pride.

He stared through his windshield. “You asked why I stayed.”

She’d suggested that maybe he felt, deep down, as if he owed something to the town. Maybe he was ready to extend an olive branch. Naturally Arianne would help. It was far past time for Gabe Sloan and the citizens of Mistletoe to—

“So I’m leaving,” he said on an exhale.

“What?”

He nodded, his expression calm and inching closer to happy than she’d ever seen. Even if he still hadn’t smiled.

“I’ll help with this fair—why not? It’ll be like my parting gift,” he said wryly. “And then I’m getting the hell out of Dodge.”

“SO WHAT’S THIS I HEAR about Gabe Sloan trying to run down my sister in the Dixieland parking lot?” Tanner Waide mock-growled as he stepped inside the supply store on Monday morning.

Arianne paused in the act of stocking the register drawer with bills and coins, glancing toward the door that led to the private office in back. “Shh! You know better than to make dumb comments like that with Mr. Overprotective on the premises.”

Tanner approached the counter, chuckling. “Please. You actively seek out opportunities to provoke Dad into worrying so that you can argue with him about how capable you are.”

“Hey.” She shot him an indignant look. “You forget, I matured during the years you were away from Mistletoe. I don’t intentionally pick fights.” Sometimes they just happened to occur in her vicinity, usually because others were having a hard time seeing reason.

Her older brother raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

“Did you stop by just to harass me?” she wanted to know.

“No, I promised David I’d come by to go over some first-quarter projections.” Although Tanner, who’d formerly worked as a financial bigwig in Atlanta, wasn’t a full-time employee of the family store, he did help with their books.

“David’s running late,” Arianne said. “Apparently the baby had a very fussy night.”

Tanner set down his briefcase. “Guess I’ll have a cup of coffee while I wait and harass you after all. So…anything going on between you and Gabe Sloan?”

“Yes, I asked him to help set up the fall festival and he agreed.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s all very tantalizing. Are people still so suspicious of him that they’re paying attention to his every conversation? Because we spoke at a public place in broad daylight. I can’t imagine that makes for very interesting gossip.”

Cocking his head to the side, Tanner regarded her thoughtfully. “Actually, I heard about it when I ran into Shane McIntyre at the gas station this morning, and I’m pretty sure his interest was in you, not Sloan—but your wildly defensive attitude is intriguing.”

“Oh.” She looked down, not sure what to say. Maybe it would be better to keep your mouth shut for a change of pace.

“It’s funny,” Tanner added, “but when you got angry about people being ‘suspicious’ of him, you sounded almost as overprotective as you accuse Dad of being.”

Could Gabe use someone to speak up in his defense? Her parents had tried to shield her young ears from the initial gossip, so other than being peripherally aware of the Templetons’ deaths and Gabe’s rumored connection, Arianne was vague on details. Who had Gabe been friends with when he was in high school? Had anyone stuck up for him? Had Mr. Sloan tried to shield his only child?

“Ari?”

“Sorry, not a morning person.” She pointed toward the back office. “Better bring me some of that coffee, too.”

He gave her a knowing, lopsided grin. “Was that your way of dismissing me?”

“I always said you were the smart brother.”

“What’s that make me?” David asked, once the copper bell above the door had heralded his arrival. “The good-looking one?”

Tanner snorted. “Out of sympathy for your rough night, I won’t even point out how ridiculous that statement is.”

As their older sibling got closer, Arianne saw just how uncharacteristically rumpled he was. David had tucked his wrinkled shirt into khaki slacks but had forgotten his belt. His brown hair, while still shorter than Tanner’s, had outgrown its normal cut and there were dark circles under his Waide-blue eyes. But even the lines of fatigue on his face couldn’t erase his obvious joy at being a parent.

“Got new pictures of my niece?” Arianne asked. It had become their morning ritual.

He tossed her his cell phone, which she caught one-handed. “Took one right before I left. She looked…Angelic is the only word for it.”

Studying the photo on the small screen, Arianne had to agree. Still, she laughed at his assessment. “Angelic? That would be the same child who cried all night?”

“Not her fault,” the proud papa insisted. “She’s cutting her first teeth. We tried everything mentioned in Rach’s parenting books, but none of the solutions worked for very long.”

“You want me to stop by this afternoon?” Arianne offered. “Give Rachel a break, or at least a hand?”

“Thank you.” David tousled her hair affectionately. “For that, I’m willing to overlook that you called this bonehead ‘the smart brother.’”

“Don’t take that personally,” Tanner said. “She was only sucking up to me to distract me from asking about Gabe Sloan.”

“Gabe Sloan?” David narrowed his eyes at Arianne. “What’s going on with you and Sloan?”

“Nothing! As I already explained to Tanner.”

The two men exchanged irritatingly brotherly glances. Then, in unison, they swiveled their gazes back to her.

She sighed in exasperation. “All right, you caught me. Last week, I sold him some soaker hose, and yesterday he said he’d help Quinn and Lilah with their festival preparations.”

And, in between, she also might have stalked him at a barbecue house, but why bore her brothers with every minuscule detail of her personal life? The gist was sufficient.

Tanner held up his hands in defeat. “Obviously Shane read too much into yesterday’s encounter. He said that Sloan seemed anxious to talk to you and you looked—”

The door on the far side of the store creaked open, and their father smiled at them, counteracting his gruff tone when he demanded, “Am I paying the three of you to stand around yakking?”

“Sorry, Dad,” Tanner said cheerfully. “We got preoccupied quizzing Ari about who she’s dating.”

Zachariah Waide zeroed in on his daughter. “You’re seeing someone?”

“You’d better sleep with one eye open,” she muttered in Tanner’s direction.

He laughed. “Luckily Lilah’s a light sleeper. She’ll protect me.”

Arianne walked around the edge of the counter. “I am going to get my coffee now. Ya’ll don’t need me for this conversation. No one believes me anyway.”

The bell over the entrance rang again, signaling their first customer of the day, and Arianne glanced reflexively in that direction, assuming that the newcomer would permanently end discussion of her nonexistent love life. Unfortunately, the person who’d just stepped in was Shane McIntyre. She’d always considered him a buddy, like a third brother, and had enjoyed weekend fishing with him and accompanying him to random events like bowling tournaments and Coach Burton’s retirement dinner last spring. But those hadn’t been dates.

Had they?

Instead of making conversation with any of the Waide men watching, Shane was looking at her as if she were the only one in the room.

Arianne cleared her throat and forced a smile. “Morning, Shane. I was just about to take a coffee break, but I’m sure David would be happy to help you find anything you need.”

She resumed her retreat, but didn’t get very far.

“Actually, Arianne, I came to talk to you. If you have a minute?”

She stifled a prickle of foreboding. Tanner’s erroneous assertion that Shane was interested in her had merely kicked her imagination into overdrive. “Sure, come on back.”

Shane followed, waiting until they’d passed into the interior hallway before he said, “Thanks. I didn’t really want to have this talk in front of your brothers and dad.”

“What talk is that?” With a sidelong glance, Arianne tried to assess the expression on his ruddy face. Shane was handsome in a boyish kind of way, but she’d never been attracted to him.

“Did Tanner happen to mention we ran into each other this morning?”

She nodded, stopping at the recessed alcove where they kept the coffeemaker. “Sugar? Cream?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Just black, thanks. I saw you yesterday, as I was leaving the diner after breakfast. Chatting with Gabriel Sloan.”

“Yeah. He wanted to discuss the fall festival.”

She reexperienced the triumphant surprise she’d felt when Gabe agreed to help with the fair and the stab of unexpected disappointment when he’d admitted that he’d be leaving Mistletoe soon after. Her instinct had been to protest that leaving was a mistake, but how could she? She’d been the one to question his being here in the first place! If she wanted to make an argument for his staying, she’d have to be patient and bide her time. She’d ended their conversation by promising to be in touch soon. There’d been a smirk in his voice when he replied, “I don’t doubt it.”

“The fall festival?” Shane echoed.

Arianne handed him his coffee and poured a second cup. “That’s right. Why, what did you think?” She wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but she was curious to view the encounter through someone else’s eyes. What had Shane seen that would make enough of an impression for him to tattle to her big brother?

“I…I don’t know. My sister, Ruthie—you remember her?—she lives in South Carolina now, but back in the day, she was friends with Shay Ortz.”

Shay Ortz Templeton.

“Sloan makes me wary,” he admitted. “His reputation with women…”

“What reputation?” Arianne asked. “The man barely dates.”

He gave her a fond smile that somehow set her teeth on edge. “Just because he’s not buying ladies nice dinners doesn’t mean he doesn’t get around. I heard kitchen tile wasn’t all he laid for Nicole Jones. Tara Hunaker hired him to refinish her basement and likes to giggle to anyone who’ll listen that the room never did get done, but that Gabriel was worth every penny.”

Arianne’s stomach lurched. “Tara Hunaker is a floozy reputed to have hit on her husband’s attorney in the middle of her divorce proceedings. I’m not putting a lot of stock in what she has to say about Gabe. And I don’t see what any of this has to do with me.”

Shane shoved his free hand through his hair. “Nothing, really. Except that after I talked to Tanner this morning, I realized that I’d sounded…jealous.”

Some of the starch went out of her spine. “So did you come over here to set the record straight?” she asked hopefully. “Make sure Tanner didn’t give me the wrong idea?”

“No.” Shane swallowed, suddenly making Arianne wish she could add a belt of Irish whiskey to her coffee. “I came because I forced myself to admit I was jealous. Irrationally so—I’m not suggesting there’s anything between you and Sloan. Even if he’s sleeping with all his female clients—”

“Like Quinn?” Arianne asked, her tone ice. “Or Barb Echols?”

“Well, n-no.” Shane’s complexion flushed dark red as he tried to regroup. “Obviously not them. They’re decent women. Like you! You’re the one I wanted to talk about, not him. Arianne, I think…I think there could be something special between us.”

Arianne had seen “special.” She witnessed it firsthand every day. Even after all these years, her parents’ faces still lit up when they saw each other across a room. Tanner had given up life in Atlanta and came home to Mistletoe because he’d never been able to forget Lilah Baum. And David had experienced love at first sight when he met Rachel, the wife for whom he would gladly move heaven and earth.

“Shane.” She kept her voice gentle, biting her tongue against every bad cliché she’d ever heard. What was she supposed to do, tell him she treasured his friendship? That she loved him like a brother?

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.

Chapter Five

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?”

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