Tanya Michaels: Mistletoe Hero

“So what happened with Shane?” Quinn asked. “You guys have known each other forever.”

“And he’s never seemed interested in me romantically, which is why yesterday caught me so off guard. He said he thought we could have something special if I would give it a chance.”

Rachel winced. “But you don’t see him that way?”

“’Fraid not. I mean, he’s a great guy. I’m just more attracted to-” She broke off as the image of Gabe’s unsmiling but striking face filled her mind. Be reasonable, Ari. Regardless of how physically attractive Gabe was, no woman with common sense would consider a relationship with him. As far as his personal life went, he had issues with a capital I and as far as Mistletoe went, he had one foot out the door.

“Shane’s just not my type,” she concluded lamely. “I told him that I didn’t feel the same way.”

“You didn’t say you still wanted to be friends?” Quinn asked hesitantly.

“No! Although I do hope that.”

“And you really didn’t have any inkling?” Rachel asked, shifting the baby gently. “Because I can’t say I’m all that surprised he likes you. You guys do spend a lot of time together.”

“Yeah, but it’s always been so platonic.” At least on her part. Had she deliberately overlooked something she hadn’t wanted to see? Feeling unobservant and perhaps a bit foolish, she changed the subject. “Who has Dele duty tonight?”

Sixty-year-old music teacher Adele Momsen signed up for every volunteer opportunity in town, bursting at the seams with Big Ideas she was eager to share. When she got married eight years ago, she’d wanted her and her groom to lift off from the circular drive of Mistletoe Methodist in a hot-air balloon. The town fathers had quickly vetoed that idea, citing FAA regulations. Her enthusiastic suggestions often ranged from the bizarre to the beyond-budget to the outright someone-could-get-killed. Lilah and Quinn liked to make sure that a specific person diplomatically reined her in before someone else hurt her feelings with more tactless objections.

Lilah raised her index finger, taking on the responsibility for tonight. “I love Dele. She might not be living in the same reality as the rest of us, but her heart’s in the right place. Can’t say the same about Cici Hunaker.”

Cici was known for being something of a control freak; her kids had moved on to middle school and high school, yet she continued to call the chairpersons on Whiteberry’s PTA committees to find out if they were still doing things her way. And, if not, to insinuate they were idiots.

“Hey, speaking of the Hunakers,” Arianne began.

“Yes?” Rachel prompted.

Mentally kicking herself, Arianne shoved a couple more fries into her mouth. Had she really been about to ask if any of them had heard rumors about Gabe Sloan and Tara Hunaker? Even if what Shane had implied was true, Gabe and Tara were consenting adults. Why did the thought of them together bother Arianne so much?

Because I’d like to think he has more discerning taste than that. Not because I’m jealous.

The baby chose that moment to wake up crying, and Lilah offered to unlock her classroom and let Rachel nurse Bailey in private. As the two women excused themselves from the cafeteria, Quinn and Arianne cleaned up the trash from dinner.

“I’m glad you’ll be meeting Patrick tonight,” Quinn admitted. “I’m interested in getting your opinion of him.”

“And you know I’ll be happy to give one,” Arianne joked. But a foreign sentiment was squirming around inside her. Uncertainty.

She was known for reading people well and giving smart advice, but now she questioned that reputation. After all, she’d entirely missed any sign that one of her close friends was falling for her and, over the past week, she’d found herself thinking too often of Gabriel Sloan. There wasn’t anything strange about noticing he was hot or wanting better for him than the informal exile the town had sentenced him to years ago. But she’d fallen asleep more than once imagining what it would be like to kiss him and had stalled last night getting off the phone with him simply because she liked listening to his voice.

She might be too wise to lose her heart to a man like Gabe, but if she admitted to her friends that she was starting to enjoy his gruff, growly voice, they might worry that she was losing her mind.

PATRICK FLANNERY TURNED OUT to be every bit as attractive as Lilah and Quinn had said-just under six feet with smiling, bright blue eyes and rich brown hair. But his most appealing quality, in Arianne’s opinion, was the way he kept glancing toward Quinn. Especially when he didn’t think anyone was watching. When Quinn caught him, her pretty face flushed pink, and Arianne grinned, mentally betting herself that she’d be fitted for another bridesmaid dress within the year.

Still, for all that Patrick was a nice-looking man, he was rendered nearly invisible the second Gabe Sloan set foot into the cafeteria. A sudden pulse of hyperawareness left Arianne as unsteady as if the room had rocked beneath her feet. He was ruggedly sensual in a brown leather jacket and worn jeans; his hair was slightly damp as if he’d grabbed a quick shower before coming to the meeting.

Gabe Sloan, in the shower. A hot shiver went through her. Steady, girl .

“Gabe!” Hoping that none of her baser instincts were visible in her expression, she beamed at him, quickly crossing toward him.

As Arianne threaded between the narrow cafeteria tables and the scattering of women already seated, that earlier uncertainty she’d been feeling reared its ugly head, and she second-guessed herself. She’d wanted Gabe to feel more included in Mistletoe, but aside from Patrick, he was the only man present. He stood out dramatically in this small assembly of women, against the surreal backdrop of a playground mural in bright primary colors and low-to-the-ground bench seating meant to accommodate even the smallest kindergartener.

Had she made a mistake asking him to come here? She banished the thought almost immediately. Change was difficult, but that didn’t make stagnation or withdrawal healthier options.

When she stopped in front of him, Gabe dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Miss Waide.”

It should’ve sounded silly-she was Arianne or Ari to everyone she knew-but something about the way it came out in Gabe’s low voice conjured the Western frontier and mysterious gunslingers who were good with their hands.

“Call me Arianne. Please.”

“All right.”

She swallowed, breaking eye contact. “Come on, there’s someone you should meet.” Arianne knew everyone’s eyes were on her and Gabe as they approached Patrick, who sat at a table with Lilah, Quinn and Dele Momsen. Rachel had yet to return from feeding the baby.

“Gabe, this is Patrick Flannery, Mistletoe Elementary’s newest teacher and our town’s newest resident. I’m sure you’ll make him feel welcome,” she babbled.

Gabe quirked an eyebrow at her as if challenging her assertion, but he was perfectly cordial as he shook hands with Patrick. “Gabe Sloan, nice to meet you.”

Dele scooted over on the bench so that Gabe could sit between her and Patrick.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Patrick said, glancing around with a self-conscious smile. “Don’t get me wrong-there are worse fates than being surrounded by women-but I’m glad not to be the only guy. So, you’re from Mistletoe? Most everyone I’ve met seems to have grown up here.”

“My whole life,” Gabe said.

Arianne wondered if anyone else heard the bitter undertone of his voice. Her attention was wrenched away from Gabe when she saw Kasey Kerrigan, juggling a large box of printed flyers, as well as art supplies they were going to use to make eye-catching posters. Leaving the two men to chat, Arianne went to Kasey’s side.