But just to be on the safe side, he wasn’t leaving her a forwarding address.

He redirected the conversation. “I assume you’re calling about the fair?”

“A bunch of the volunteers are meeting at Whiteberry tomorrow evening. Six-thirty, in the cafeteria. Think you can join us?”

He had some landscaping work to do for Linda Berdino tomorrow, but it got dark earlier every day. “Sure.”

“Great! Then I guess I’ll see you there.” She drew the sentence out, as if there might be more she wanted to say.

“Good night, Miss Waide,” he said firmly. He disconnected and turned his attention to the now-boiling beef-vegetable soup.

The irritating thing about Arianne Waide was not her stubbornness or unsolicited advice, it was her knack for asking really good questions. Where was he going? Another small town? Maybe in Tennessee or North Carolina? He’d visited cousins in Birmingham years ago and thought Alabama had its charms.

Deciding to leave was a good first step, but there was a lot he’d need to do. He couldn’t just throw a bunch of stuff in a duffel bag and take off in his truck…could he?

No. He’d been able to build a living here as a handyman at first because of his notoriety and later because he was really good at what he did. But if he showed up somewhere new, a tall stranger with no local references, he’d be hard-pressed to make ends meet. And he had to decide what to do with this place.

He carried his bowl to the breakfast bar, looking around him. When the Mitchells had put this semiconverted barn on the market, no one had wanted to invest in finishing the renovations. But Gabe had the skills and resources to complete the most necessary repairs and hadn’t cared enough to be bothered by the superficial ones. He wasn’t sure whether anyone would be interested in buying, but he knew he’d at least be selling it in better condition than he’d purchased it.

A rental property, maybe? Assuming he could find someone, rent would provide some monthly income while he got on his feet elsewhere, but he disliked the idea. He was finally contemplating liberation from Mistletoe, and owning a rental home here would be one remaining tether he didn’t need.

What about Jeremy? It was telling that when Gabe considered his last ties to town, he thought of an old barn before his own father.

Then again, that tie had been severed years ago. Gabe had been scared and guilt-stricken, but his father hadn’t noticed. All he’d seen through his contempt was someone who’d dishonored “the sanctity of marriage.” Gabe had thought, rather hysterically, that his father was more upset about Gabe’s involvement with a married woman than the fact two people were dead.

“You’re a minor, and I’m legally bound to house you,” Jeremy Sloan had said. “But as soon as you’re of age, get the hell out.”

Congratulations, Pops. You’ll be getting your wish soon.

ARIANNE PULLED UP to the school at about the same time as her sister-in-law, Rachel. Both of them parked in the bus lanes that were empty for the evening. Arianne got out of her car, then bent to pick up the bags of food and drink tray. A few feet away, she watched as Rachel gathered Bailey’s diaper bag and unfastened the baby’s car seat.

“I feel like I should offer you assistance,” Arianne called, “but…”

Rachel laughed. “I appreciate the thought. Here, let me get the door for you.” With the diaper bag on her shoulder and her daughter sleeping across her chest in some kind of odd sling, Rachel actually had both hands free.

Arianne grinned. “You look like you’re mastering this Mommy gig.”

“Some days more than others,” Rachel admitted.

They filed into the cafeteria, where Quinn and Lilah were seated at a long table. With the festival meeting tonight, they’d decided simply to stay late after school, working on lesson plans and replacing outdated art projects and essays on the classroom walls. Arianne had volunteered to bring dinner so that the four of them could eat and catch up before everyone else arrived.

While Quinn came to Arianne’s side to help carry the food, Lilah made a beeline for Rachel, peering into the durable cloth infant carrier with such delighted awe that Arianne wondered how long it would be before she was made an aunt twice over.

“That smells so good,” Rachel said on a near moan. “When I was pregnant, everyone teased me about eating for two, but my appetite’s actually increased since she was born. Now that I’m nursing, I feel like I’m starving all the time.”

“Well, you look great,” Quinn said, handing her the iced tea that was marked decaf. “Women who’ve given birth recently shouldn’t be that fit. It’s not fair to the rest of us mere mortals.”

Lilah laughed. “Says one of the most gorgeous women in the county.”

Quinn looked especially nice tonight in a cute wraparound dress and high ponytail that was both stylish and playful.

“Thank you,” Arianne told Lilah. “Now maybe she’ll believe me when I tell her Patrick can’t help but notice her.”

“Ari!” Quinn darted a glance toward the hallway, as if making sure no one was around to overhear. “It’s not like I don’t have the confidence to talk to a guy. It’s just more…complicated when he works with you. Huge potential for awkwardness.”

Arianne thought of the uncomfortable conversation she’d had yesterday morning with Shane McIntyre. “You may have a point. I got ambushed yesterday by an admission I wasn’t expecting and awkward barely begins to cover it.”

“Who?” Quinn asked.

“Shane?” Lilah asked, her voice sympathetic. “Tanner mentioned that he came by the store to talk to you. And that he was acting weird at the gas station, freaked out because there might be something between you and Gabe Sloan.”

Rachel let out a low whistle. “Gabe Sloan? Talk about the most gorgeous person in the county.”

“Arianne got him to agree to help us,” Quinn said proudly. “I have to admit, I was surprised, but she did it.”

Arianne bit into another fry. Little did her friend know that Gabe’s assistance had less to do with her persuasive prowess than his wanting closure with the town. Oh, he probably didn’t think of it that way, but Arianne could read between the lines. She hadn’t shared with anyone what he’d told her about planning to leave.

“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.