Mistletoe Hero

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?”