Tanya Michaels - Mistletoe Hero

“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 .

“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.”

Arianne felt her smile stretch from ear to ear. “You did?” Oh, how she would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation.

“I did. With the exception of one short-term customer who doesn’t actually live here, I don’t get involved with the women who hire me. I learned my lesson early.”

“Because of Shay Templeton?” The words tumbled out of their own volition and she held her breath, waiting to see if he lashed out at her for her presumption. Or, worse, ignored the question altogether.

“Because of Shay.” He rolled from his side to his back, putting more space between them.

She didn’t chase after him but waited patiently to see if he would confide in her.

“I was sixteen. She was my first lover. She’d told me for weeks how cold her husband was, how he made her feel unwanted, unloved.”

In addition to being a teenage boy brimming with hormones, Gabe had also been someone who could relate to being trapped in a home lacking in affection. Shay had played him well. It was likely she’d also been legitimately attracted to him, but that in no way excused an adult-a married adult, no less!-preying on a sixteen-year-old.

“I told her afterward that I loved her.” His brittle chuckle dripped self-loathing. “Can you imagine anyone that naive? A single afternoon in her bed and I was vowing to take her away from Mistletoe. She laughed, told me I was a sweet kid, not bad for a virgin, but that she had no intention of giving up her house and husband. She was still trying to kick me out when he came home.”

Arianne squirmed inwardly, wishing she hadn’t opened this particular can of worms. It was hard to hear him reliving the raw pain inflicted by the lover who’d calculated a premeditated seduction, then callously dismissed him.

“I shouldn’t have left,” he said hoarsely. “I saw how furious Templeton was, I should have stayed to protect her. But she wanted me to go, and I…”

He’d been hurt and confused and humiliated. Arianne was sorry for the senseless deaths, but she was angry with the long-dead Shay Templeton, not only for creating the tragedy but for embroiling a sixteen-year-old kid in the middle of it and permanently robbing him of his innocence.

“Thank you for telling me this,” she whispered. “The fact that you can even discuss it is a good sign. It means-”

“All it means is that I don’t want you to have any illusions about me,” he snapped. “I slept with another man’s wife and slunk off like a coward when their fight turned volatile. That’s who I am. Maybe you were right when you accused me of ‘giving up.’ It certainly wouldn’t be the first time I did that, but make no mistake, I’m leaving Mistletoe.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, fighting her natural inclination to argue, to tell him that she didn’t have illusions, that she saw him more clearly than he saw himself. She saw the past hurts and the honorable man he’d grown into despite them. She saw someone who had retreated into solitude, working alone, living alone, playing video games alone.