Mistletoe Hero

“Nothing. I was just thinking about you needing to stay the night. With Gabriel Sloan.”

“Don’t say it like that. It’s so I can wake him up periodically, check his pupil size, make sure he’s not throwing up. That kind of thing,” Arianne said, trying for virtuous.

“Uh-huh. Well, if you’re not comfortable staying out there, I can send Tanner over. He could sleep on the couch. He can sleep anywhere. Just ask him about the one-and-only time we saw a ballet together.”

For all Arianne knew, she’d be bunking on the sofa. Judging by his tension when he’d left the room, Gabe was no longer under the thrall of what they’d shared earlier.

“I’m good here,” she said. “But could you pick me up in the morning? My car’s still at the festival site.”

“Actually, Tanner moved it with our spare key just a little while ago. That’s one of the reasons I was trying to get in touch with you, to let you know it’s at our house.”

Arianne laughed. “Because it wasn’t safe overnight in downtown Mistletoe?”

“I know,” Lilah agreed, a teasing lilt in her voice. “Talk to your brother. I guess he lived in the city too long. Call us in the morning when you’re ready to go.”

Arianne promised that she would and ignored the cheerful innuendo in her sister-in-law’s voice when she advised Arianne to have a good night. They disconnected, and Arianne paused for a moment, listening. Gabe was still in the shower. Since she had nothing to do, she decided to go ahead and give free rein to her curiosity.

There was nothing of major interest to see in the kitchen, so she returned to the living room, scrutinizing the entertainment center. As far as she could tell, it was the only TV in the house, a nice, large flat-screen. She grinned when she noticed that he owned a video game system, although she only saw one controller.

Against the far wall of the converted barn was the old loft. A set of painted wooden stairs with no railing led up to a carpeted, only partially enclosed loft with a skylight in the slanted roof. He’d made it a library of sorts. His computer sat on a desk in the corner, but the rest of the narrow space was eaten up by a large bookshelf. The man either loved to read or a hundred books had been included in the purchase when he bought this place. His tastes were varied, from lots of nonfiction and do-it-yourself books to Zane Grey’s Westerns, some of which were yellowed with age, to futuristic cop stories by J. D. Robb to a collection of comic essays by Dave Barry.

Suddenly the water switched off, and Arianne scrambled down the staircase, not wanting to look like the snoop she was. By the time Gabe reappeared-shirtless in a pair of low-slung running pants-she was resituated on the couch.

She cleared her throat, trying to break her gaze away from his chest. “I was thinking about it and, if you’d rather, I can sleep on the sofa. If that would make you more comfortable,” she offered, but she-or someone else of his choosing-was staying the night. That part was nonnegotiable.

“Don’t be silly.” He frowned at her. “The couch’s not half as comfortable as the bed. If you don’t mind my snoring, you’re welcome to share. I can keep my hands to myself.”

That hadn’t been what she was hinting at, but it probably was better for his recovery if she didn’t jump him again tonight.

“I pulled out a towel for you,” he said. “It occurred to me after I was already in that a good host probably would have let you shower first.”

“That’s all right. I wanted to wash the dishes and call Lilah anyway, let her know you’re okay. And Mindy Nelson called to check on you.”

“She did?”

Arianne nodded. “She heard about the injury and was worried.”

He looked bemused by this.

“She also wants you to know that she put in a good word with her brother-in-law.”

“Already?” He pressed his palms together, speaking almost to himself. “It’s really happening. I set it in motion, and I’m really doing this.”

Yep, he was really leaving Mistletoe. Ya-freaking-hoo.

“Gabe,” she began, “I’m not sure I understand why you’re going.”

“What’s there to understand?” He blinked at her. “You’re the one who asked me why I’d stayed this long in the first place. Remember?”

“Yeah, but…That’s just my point! Since you have stayed in Mistletoe so many years, why give up on us and leave now?”

“I’m not ‘giving up.’ I’m moving on. Moving forward.” His tone had chilled, and he was looking at her reprovingly. “You’re such a proactive person, I thought you’d understand.”

“No, I do. I understand,” she said quietly. But I want you to stay.

Chapter Eleven

“Gabe?”

It had been so long since either of them spoke that the word sounded unnaturally loud in the dark room, but she knew he wasn’t asleep. He hadn’t fallen into that steady, deep breathing. Plus, even though the only contact between their carefully spaced bodies was the curve of his hand over her hip, she could feel the tension radiating through him.

“Yeah?”

“Earlier, before…I seduced you-”

“You seduced me?”

“Absolutely. The trick was making it seem like your idea.”

“Well, excellent job.” He sounded genuinely amused, relaxing slightly behind her. “Because I’ve been having that idea for days now.”

She smiled against her pillow. Me, too. “You said that there were facts I didn’t know about you. What were you going to tell me if I hadn’t persevered?”

“You can’t have it both ways, Ms. Waide,” he reprimanded. “It was a onetime offer, and you chose to skip the conversation in favor of sex. You don’t get the conversation now.”

“Oh.” She was silent a moment. “Did you get a chance to check your messages while I was in the shower? It seemed like the phone rang quite a bit this afternoon.”

He groaned. “If I’d known you were going to be this chatty, I would have accepted your offer to bunk on the couch.”

“Sorry. Guess I’m having trouble falling asleep since I don’t usually take long naps in the late afternoon. Am I keeping you awake?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “I’m not used to sleeping the evening away, either. Yeah, I checked messages. Another possible job lead from a friend and a couple of potential clients wanting to talk to me about installing windows and an automatic garage door.”

“I really admire self-employed entrepreneurs like you and Brenna Pierce and Chloe Malcolm,” she said. “I work hard at the store, but it was there from the time I was born. I can’t imagine creating it from the ground up.”

He snorted. “You could have your own shopping mall up and running in time for the Christmas rush if you put your mind to it.”

She didn’t respond to the exaggeration, but was secretly pleased that he thought her so capable. “Still, you guys are dependent on word of mouth and keeping clients happy. I’ve got myself in trouble once or twice by speaking my mind with a customer, but at least they can balance my bad day against the reputation of three generations of Waides.”

“It’s true your family is well respected,” he said flatly.

She took the plunge. “You may not realize this, but Tara Hunaker has actually spread some rumors that could hurt your professional standing. She’s suggested that she hired you to refinish her basement and the job didn’t get done.”

“That’s one hundred percent true.”

Arianne whipped her head around on the pillow, trying to read his expression in the dark. “It is?”

“Yes. Turned out Tara wasn’t in the market for a carpenter but a gigolo. I explained the difference to her-using small words-and quit.”