Mistletoe Hero

Chapter Twelve

The next committee meeting for the festival was Tuesday night at town hall and would precede the monthly open town meeting that many of the volunteers were planning to attend anyway. When Arianne had called Gabe yesterday to check on how he was feeling, he’d told her that he probably wouldn’t make it.

“I don’t need to be there for the discussion,” he’d said. “I’m just the hired muscle.”

“Yes,” she’d agreed solemnly. “We only want you for your pirate ship. And your booty.”

He didn’t immediately respond, but she heard the laugh he tried to smother. Then he explained that, with Nick’s and Jack’s help, actual construction of the pieces was done, but Gabe thought his time was better spent sanding and painting than sitting in the town hall.

Which suited her nefarious purposes just fine, she realized now as the mayor called the town meeting to order. An idea was beginning to take shape in her mind. The agenda was posted on the whiteboard behind the mayor’s head and included some of their town’s annual traditions, like the Winter Wonderland ball. And Mistletoe’s Man of the Year, someone they voted for in early November and who was given the honor of leading the Thanksgiving parade.

With half an ear, Arianne listened to Pat Donavan talk about suggested changes to how the town’s intramural sports were run, followed by Stanley Dean outlining the budget for a town beautification project and Belle Fulton’s report from the chamber of commerce. Finally they moved to the next to last item: Mistletoe Man of the Year. Anticipation had Arianne fidgeting in her seat so much that Quinn shot her a quizzical look.

“As you all know, we took preliminary nominations for the Man of the Year at last month’s meetings. Those included our new high school coach Dylan Echols-”

This elicited a loud, admiring whistle from Chloe Malcolm, Dylan’s fiancée, and friendly laughter from everyone seated around her.

The mayor raised a brow. “May I continue? We also have local fireman Nick Zeth, two-time former Man of the Year, David Waide, and Petey Gruebner, nominated again this year by Petey Gruebner,” the mayor concluded with an aggrieved sigh.

At this, Petey nudged his wife, who’d been busily knitting and not paying much attention to the proceedings. She clapped politely before returning to what looked like a scarf big enough to keep a giraffe’s neck warm.

“At this time,” the mayor said, “I’ll open the floor for any final nominations to consider before we vote at the November meeting in a few weeks.”

Arianne shot to her feet. Next to her Quinn groaned, “She isn’t.”

Lilah laughed in the row behind them. “She is!”

“Mr. Mayor, I nominate Gabriel Sloan.”

“Is that your idea of a joke, Ms. Waide?” An outraged masculine voice boomed from the back of the room.

Dreading what she was about to see, Arianne turned. Oh, God, she hadn’t even considered this possibility when she’d devised her spontaneous plan thirty minutes earlier. Because she’d been here so early, she was seated close to the front and had been chatting with other people on the festival committee right up until the time the mayor had called order. Arianne hadn’t seen Earline and Robert Ortz, Shay Templeton’s parents, come in and take seats near the door.

Robert was on his feet, his face nearly purple beneath his snow-white hair. His wife, still seated, was squeezing his hand.

Whatever Arianne thought privately about Shay and the mistakes she’d made, she wouldn’t wish losing a child on any parent. She tried to sound respectful even as she said firmly, “No, sir, I was serious.”

“That boy was the reason my baby girl was killed!”

The “boy” had been a victim, too, albeit in a less dramatic and permanent way than Shay, and was now a man. “With all due apologies for your loss, that was fourteen years ago, and Gabe wasn’t even in the house when it happened. None of us really knows what happened. How long should he be punished for a perceived crime?”

People were squirming and whispering, shooting sympathetic glances at the Ortz family, collectively uncomfortable with the direction the meeting had taken. Cici Hunaker was openly smirking, one primly dressed woman in the front row looked ready to hyperventilate. Hell. This hadn’t been what Arianne had in mind at all. She’d wanted to talk about all the work Gabe had done for the town over the years; sure, a lot of it was his paid occupation, but that wasn’t so very different from Nick Zeth, who was a salaried fireman. In the past five years Gabe had helped repair houses after some spring tornadoes had blown through, working twelve-hour days to help people get their lives back together as quickly as possible. He’d patched and improved and converted homes, all the while never truly seeing this town as his home.

He was good to the town’s senior citizens, donated his time on behalf of the elementary children in this town, had even risked the high-stress potential of teaching a teen to drive. Arianne had wanted to refocus everyone on those qualities, not dredge up the ancient past. But she found herself tongue-tied in the glare of Robert Ortz, not wanting to say anything that sounded as if she were dismissing his loss.

The mayor banged his gavel on the podium. “Robert, why don’t you take your seat?” he asked gently. “Can we get you anything? A glass of water? Earline? Now, Ms. Waide, continue with your nomination, but keep it short. We, er, have other business to discuss.”

The only thing left on the agenda was the Winter Wonderland, annually held at the Mistletoe Inn, and Arianne knew that wasn’t the real reason the mayor wanted her to wrap up with haste.

She took a deep breath and tried again. “I don’t deny that Gabe may have made some mistakes in his past. I wager everyone in this room has made mistakes. But he’s part of Mistletoe, quietly helping us when we need him.”

“Hear, hear!” Fawne Harris said.

Arianne darted her a grateful glance. “I think the other nominees are wonderful men, but come on, my brother doesn’t need the honor a third time. Do we really want to feed his ego?”

“Hey!” David called out with mock indignation.

A few people chuckled, helping dispel the earlier tension. Next to him, Rachel patted his knee and whispered loudly, “It’s okay, honey, I still appreciate you.”

Feeling braver now, Arianne continued her appeal. “And Dylan’s a great guy-we’re lucky that he decided to move back to town last spring-but Gabe’s been here year after year to help us rebuild after storms. I heard a rumor that he wouldn’t take any money from the church after he was hired to fix the leak in the sanctuary wall.” If the townspeople were allowed to pass along the sordid Tara-generated gossip, why not the redeeming stuff, too? Reverend Billings, seated on the other side of the main aisle, nodded.

“I’m sure most of you have heard about the walk-the-plank attraction he’s been building as a special fundraiser for the festival. And ask Mindy Nelson’s son if he would have his driver’s license without Gabe’s help,” Arianne added.

“I second the nomination,” Dele Momsen said. She shot a compassionate look at the Ortzs, but her voice didn’t waver when she lent her support.

“All right then,” the mayor said. “Thank you, ladies, and thank you, Arianne, for making your case. His name has been officially entered for the vote. Any other nominations?”

When no one immediately said anything, the mayor moved rather desperately to the next topic.

Leaning so close their heads almost touched, Quinn whispered, “And what did Gabe have to say about this when you dutifully talked it over with him first?”

Arianne smiled weakly. “I’m hoping he likes surprises.”

IT WAS A GOOD THING there was no one else in the store Wednesday evening because Gabe would have terrified any onlookers when he stormed in, demanding, “What the hell were you thinking?”

Déjà vu, but not.

Exactly two weeks ago tonight, Arianne had found herself alone in her father’s store with Gabriel Sloan, just as they were now. Except two weeks ago, she’d had to dig deep just to get one-word responses from him. Now he was in here vocalizing entire sentences. Loudly.

“Good evening. Welcome to Waide Supply,” she said brightly.

“Is this a joke to you?” he asked, stalking closer.

“No, but you bit my head off, and it left me temporarily unable to think of what to say, so I went with a classic.” She stopped smiling. “I would love to talk to you, but I don’t like being yelled at.”

“And I don’t like being a town punch line! Damn it, Arianne, I try to stay out of the limelight. It’s one of the reasons I stopped going to On Tap. I got tired of deflecting verbal jabs from men and getting hit on by tipsy women dared by their friends.” He raked a hand through his hair, looking slightly calmer now that he’d vented some of his frustration. “I heard about last night.”

“I figured.” Frankly it had taken longer than she’d expected for him to find out and track her down. She really should’ve told him herself, but she’d thought he might take the news better from a neutral third-party source.

Derision sparked in his gray eyes. “Were you trying to embarrass me?”

“That’s not fair!” She recalled how her knees had knocked together when she’d made her public declaration, struggling to find appropriate words that would somehow characterize all that was good about Gabe yet wouldn’t be inexcusably offensive to the Ortzs, objective words that wouldn’t betray her own vested interest, that she was falling-“I spoke from the heart last night. Anyone who suggests that I did so lightly is an idiot! And a liar.”

Gabe stood on the other side of the register counter, his head cocked as he examined her. “Are you about to cry?”

“What? Of course not.” She widened her eyes, trying to keep from blinking, lest a tear break free. She hadn’t realized she was getting so emotional about this.

“Ari.” He reached out and swiped his index finger across her lashes. A teardrop glistened on the pad of his finger. “Don’t. I’m not worth tears.”

“You are! That was my point to the town. You don’t even know your own worth, Gabe.”

He closed his eyes, looking pained by her praise.

“It’s true,” she persisted obstinately. “I grew up with a strict but fair father who loves me and two big brothers, so I have high standards for men. I’m not just some silly girl easily swayed by great biceps. You have your own code of honor, you have this great, barely tapped reservoir of humor, you have heart.” Even if it’s been broken for a long time.

A muscle in his jaw twitched as he met her gaze, his expression enigmatic. Then he braced his hands on the counter and jumped, swinging his feet over and dropping down on her side.

Arianne’s mouth went dry at the display of physical prowess and his sudden proximity to her. “Technically,” she murmured, “nonemployees aren’t allowed to be back here.”

He cupped her shoulders and crushed his mouth against hers in a conflicted kiss. She knew he was still annoyed about the nomination, but that she’d moved him with what she’d said. Deliberately gentle, she kissed him back, sucking at his bottom lip, running her tongue over his. After a second, any anger in his gesture had been replaced with simple, slow pleasure.

Breaking their kiss, he pressed his brow to the top of her head. “You’re a difficult woman to stay angry with.”

“I’m sorry I made you angry,” she said.

He chuckled. “But not sorry you nominated me in the first place?”

“Take the apology you can get,” she advised. “I have a question for you.”

Leaning against the counter, he folded his arms over his chest. “Is it ‘Hey, Gabe, do you mind if I bring you up at tonight’s town hall meeting?’ because the time for that request would have been yesterday.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t know beforehand. It’s not like it was something I’ve been secretly plotting for a week. I was looking at the meeting agenda and it suddenly came to me.”

“You know, you’re allowed to have impulses and not act on them.”

She shot him a dubious look. “Did you just meet me?” Somehow she found the discretion not to point out that he’d been repressing his emotions and urges for years and that it had resulted in his mostly being isolated and grim. Did he even realize how much more he’d smiled and laughed in the past week?

“Go ahead and ask your question while I’m ready for it,” he said. “Otherwise, you might spring it on me later at some unsuspecting moment.”

Another layer to the déjà vu she’d experienced earlier; she was about to invite him on a date, as she had that Wednesday two weeks ago. But since he’d just been seducing her mouth with his, she thought her odds had improved substantially. “Be my date for the festival?”

“Your date?” He tried to take a step back but stumbled at the realization that he was already against the counter and had nowhere to go. “I…”

You’re kidding me! She’d struck out again?

He brushed her long hair away from her face, his smile sad. “I’ve hurt your feelings.”

“Tell me why you won’t go with me. I mean, I’ll be working part of the time, but only in shifts. The rest of the day I have to walk around, stuffing my face with really great food, letting a big strong guy try to win me teddy bears, that kind of thing.”

“Look, I don’t deny the attraction between us,” he said. “I can barely be in the same room with you and keep my hands off you. I’m weak enough that, for whatever time I have left in Mistletoe, I do want to see you. But not…publicly.”

Her jaw dropped. “So I’m all right to take to bed in the privacy of your own home as long as you don’t have to be seen with me?”

“It’s not like that! I’m not ashamed of you, I’m thinking of you. Tanner told me that you guys have known Shane McIntyre for years, but that friendship’s rocky now. Because of me. And I didn’t hear only about you nominating me yesterday. Beau Albright told me who was there, that you were teetering on the brink of scandal and harsh feelings. You’ve never been on the outside, and trust me, you don’t want to be.”

“It won’t be like that,” she said earnestly. “Just the opposite. I can help you! People like you-or they would if you gave them a chance.”

“I’m not looking to make new friends here. I’m getting up at five in the morning to drive to Kennesaw tomorrow,” he told her. “I have an interview. And I’ve faxed résumés to a small community college in South Carolina and a construction company in Florida.”

His words battered her optimism, deflated the hope that he shared her feelings and might find the courage to build on them. She was gutsy, but she couldn’t be brave enough for both of them.

“Good luck on the interview,” she said woodenly. She sidestepped him, needing some physical outlet. Behind the counter was a rag and some glass cleaner. This seemed like as good a time as any to scrub the hell out of the front windows.

He hovered behind her, not saying anything, his mere presence ratcheting up the tension inside her until she wanted to scream, Go away. Or hold me. She couldn’t decide which she yearned for more.

“I could use a friend,” he finally said. She knew the admission cost him. “I’m not used to business interviews, and I’m…”

“Nervous?” she supplied, melting a little at this show of vulnerability.

“Can I call you when I get back? If you can spare a few hours in the evening, maybe we can have a late dinner together and I can tell you about it.”

She shook her head. “You mean a dinner behind closed doors. Or, at best, an extremely platonic dinner in public that couldn’t be construed as a date.”

He glared, not pleased with the way she’d rejected his olive branch.

“I’m sorry, Gabe. You may have noticed I don’t do half measures well.” It wasn’t that she was purposely trying to give him an ultimatum, only that she had to be true to herself and protect her heart as best she could this late in the game. Relationship sacrifices were worth it when the participants were in a relationship. He was only willing to skate by on the shadowed edges. “I’m an all-or-nothing gal.”

“That you are.” He looked away, taking several deep breaths, then reached for the door. “Goodbye, Arianne.”