Tanya Michaels - Mistletoe Hero

Talking to her now, he suspected that they’d only be platonic friends going forward. He felt no spark of desire. “Actually, Nic, what I want is to get away permanently. I’m job-hunting. Can I use you as a reference?”

“Absolutely! You probably doubled what I would have made on that house.”

They talked for a few minutes, and it was comfortable. Like a flannel shirt. Nothing like the prickly, charged encounters he had with Arianne.

Damn it. What was that, the fiftieth time he’d thought of her today? Determined to put her out of his mind, he booted up his computer, checking a few occupational sites and tweaking his résumé. As he surfed some job postings, he had an idea. What if he found a college campus that had open positions in the grounds crew or repair and maintenance? Did university employees get discounts on tuition? Once upon a time, he’d planned to take classes, get a degree. Sure, he was older than the typical freshman, but maybe it wasn’t too late.

If he were going to be taken seriously as an applicant anywhere, however, he would need more references than Nicole Jones. He would have to ask some people from Mistletoe. He decided to start with Mindy Nelson, a widow who not only hired Gabe regularly, but who’d told him once that her brother-in-law, owner of a small residential construction company in Florida, had been impressed with the deck Gabe had built for her.

Mindy worked over at the Mistletoe senior center. Gabe looked up the number in the phone book and called.

“Mindy Nelson,” she chirped.

“Hi, it’s Gabe Sloan-”

“Gabriel! I was just talking about you. Dele Momsen and I had lunch together and she told me about how you’re helping with her walk-the-plank idea. I’m sure you’ll do a wonderful job. I’ve always been so impressed with your work.”

He blinked at the effusive praise. “Thank you, ma’am. That makes what I called you about a little easier. I’m interested in pursuing other career possibilities and wondered if I could list you as a-”

“Oh, where are you interviewing?”

“Nowhere yet. I’m putting together applications.”

“For places in town?” she asked, sounding confused. “Will you still have your own business on the side?”

“Actually, I want to look outside Mistletoe. I think it’s time for me to move on.”

“What? Oh, no! We’ll hate to see you go.”

He doubted many people would share that sentiment, but he was touched nonetheless. “I’ll miss you, too. You’re one of my favorite customers.”

“I don’t suppose that if I withheld my recommendation we’d get to keep you?”

He laughed at the possibility of Mindy Nelson, who couldn’t even kill a bug-he’d seen her catch them in jars to release outside-scheming to keep him from leaving. “No, I’m definitely going some time after the fall festival.” Wouldn’t it be nice to move over the winter and be settled before January? A new life in the new year. Perfect.

“I suppose I’m morally obligated,” she grumbled. “A man with a work ethic like yours deserves all the praise he can get. But I’m not happy about this!”

After a moment’s debate, he decided to press his luck. “Then would I be completely insensitive to ask you for your brother-in-law’s contact information? I’ve never really pictured myself living in Florida, but who knows? Maybe the Sunshine State would be the perfect place for me.”

“Maybe,” she said slowly. “I’ll call him this weekend and put in a good word for you. I can’t guarantee he’s hiring, but he has nothing to lose by talking to you.”

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. Have a good weekend, Mrs. Nelson.”

“You, too. Oh, and, Gabriel? Don’t you pay any mind to that Shane McIntyre. I know his mom, and he was a good kid, but always been something of a hothead. Anyone with half a brain can see Arianne’s not right for him, but I suppose he’ll just have to figure that out for himself. It’ll blow over.”

“I…Thanks,” he said lamely. He told himself he was used to being at the center of Mistletoe gossip, but maybe you never truly adjusted to being the center of other people’s conversations-the uncomfortable scrutiny, the half-truths.

He was hardly astonished to discover that news of last night’s argument was making the rounds, but he was pleasantly surprised to find someone had taken his side.

Gabe supposed the main problem with volunteers was that they were, by definition, not professionals. For a man who worked alone and knew the name and function of pretty much every power tool on the market, Saturday morning was a bit too chaotic. A couple dozen well-meaning people-many with children in tow-milled around with only a limited idea of what they should be doing.

Thankfully that lasted for only a short while before Quinn and Lilah herded everyone into the impromptu headquarters they’d set up in the town square gazebo. Even among the crush of bodies beneath the gazebo roof, Gabe was continuously aware of Arianne’s location. He could pick her voice out of the cacophony, could feel whenever she looked in his direction. He assiduously did not look in hers. She would say that he was avoiding her, accuse him of running away again in a more subtle form.

Damn straight he planned to avoid her! He was willing to build an entire pirate armada in return for Arianne not kissing him again. Because if she tried, he would succumb to temptation. He’d spent too many unguarded moments since Thursday night imagining the taste of her, the softness of her lips beneath his, her skin against his. He was reputed to be someone who gave in to baser instincts with no thought for consequences. If Arianne got too close, he’d end up proving his fabled lack of self-control.

In the center of the gazebo, Lilah and Quinn mapped out where everything would be-various midway games down Main Street, arts and crafts booths on the courthouse lawn, concessions scattered throughout, a large rock-climbing wall in the post-office parking lot.

A freckled boy sitting not far from Gabe leaned forward at the mention of the climbing wall. “I’m gonna do it this year!”

An older boy with similar features shoved the child’s shoulder. “You’ve been saying that for two years, Ben. Face it, you’re a big fraidy cat, scared of heights. You’re never gonna climb that wall.”

“I am, too, Toby!” But the youngster’s lower lip trembled.

Gabe sighed inwardly. Chin up, kid. Crying would only be taken as an additional sign of cowardice.

“Ben! Toby!” A woman with strawberry blond hair shushed them, and Lilah and Quinn began sending volunteers off with specific assignments. They’d restored order admirably well, and Gabe hoped he could get to work soon on erecting the plank platform, left more or less alone.

He hadn’t even reached the site Lilah had designated, the small gravel lot next to the library, before someone approached. Jack Allen. A sour taste rose in Gabe’s mouth. Jack worked as an administrator for the town of Mistletoe and was the younger brother of someone Gabe had beat to a near pulp in high school.

“Hey, Gabe,” Jack called.

He sounded a lot like his brother actually. Hey, Gabe.

As if it had been yesterday, Gabe could hear Duke Allen in his head.

Wait up.

Warily, Gabe’s sophomore self had turned, wondering if yet another person was about to insinuate that he was responsible for two deaths. Three, if one counted the mother he’d never known.

But Duke Allen had beamed at him. I know you’re taking a lot of flack, dude, but I’m on your side. Who wouldn’t have bagged Mrs. Templeton, given the chance? I gotta know, was she as hot in bed as I think?