Mistletoe Season by Michelle Major
CHAPTER FIVE
GABEWISHEDHE’Dkept his damn mouth shut as he watched emotions play across Angi’s striking features. He didn’t want to feel sorry for her. He didn’t want to feel anything.
He closed his fist more tightly around the take-out bag because damn if he didn’t have the urge to reach out and comfort her.
The woman was clearly holding it together by a frayed string of composure.
“You’re wrong,” she said, but there was no conviction in the words. “I’d know.”
“My mom didn’t know half of what I went through.”
She gave him a pointed look, and he remembered that he’d once shared with her the struggles his mom had to be a decent parent. A decent human most of the time.
“You’re not like her. I’m not suggesting that.”
“But you are suggesting that my son is being bullied, and I’m clueless.”
“He’s good at hiding his issues.” He placed the bag of food on the counter. “He doesn’t want to worry you.”
“My job is to worry,” she practically shouted, and then ran a hand through her long hair, held back by an elastic band. She turned toward the window as she pulled it out and thick locks of hair fell over her shoulders. Gabe caught a faint whiff of citrus and tried to ignore his body’s reaction.
He understood she was buying time so she could collect herself, and he at least wanted to honor that. He was grateful for it. The last thing he needed was a mommy breakdown in the middle of the store.
“It’s the reason he sought me out,” he explained as she looped her hair through the elastic again. “He heard about my military career and that I wasn’t always a big guy. He’s trying to convince me to teach him self-defense moves.”
“Like you’re his Mr. Miyagi?” she asked, disbelief clear in her tone.
Gabe bit back a smile. The Karate Kid had been his favorite movie when he was younger. He’d even watched it with Angi one summer, sitting on the floor in his grandmother’s cramped office. The VHS tape had been his prized possession until the day his mom knocked it off the old dresser where the TV sat and then stepped on it.
He could have found the money to buy another copy, but at that point he’d learned all the lessons he needed from the teen flick. Instead, he’d gotten a job sweeping floors at a local gym near their apartment in Albuquerque and begun his transformation.
“I don’t know karate.”
“But you know lots of ways to defend yourself or even hurt someone, right?” She turned slowly. “I heard you were Special Forces or some kind of sniper or—”
“Something like that,” he agreed noncommittally. He refused to discuss his time in the army with Angi. No way would he taint her with the violence he’d seen, the things he’d done.
“Are you teaching Andrew the techniques you learned?”
He shook his head and picked up a bolt of red velvet ribbon. He’d been using it to create lopsided bows for the front window. Gabe might not have the artistic eye or gift for design that his grandmother had, but he liked using his hands to create something instead of destroying what he touched.
“Mostly I have him clean up and pump him for tips from his little friend about how to display gift items in the store.”
“An updated version of wax on, wax off?”
A chuckle bubbled up from his throat as he thought about the karate lesson from the movie, couched in everyday tasks.
“Sometimes dusting is just dusting,” he assured her.
She studied him for a moment and then nodded. “I wouldn’t be all that upset if you wanted to show him a few moves.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do.” She looked sad and desperate and a little wild. “You aren’t the only one who knows what it was like to be bullied. I don’t want him to be a victim.”
“There are other ways for Andrew to defend himself than learning how to fight better than the kids who pick on him.”
“Like what?”
“Walking away or talking to an adult or—”
“If you say turn the other cheek, I’m going to scream.” She waved a hand in the general vicinity of his chest. “It’s easy to go all pacifist when you’re a big, burly ex-army stud with rippling muscles and badass vibes radiating off you like an electrical current. Andrew is just a small kid with a gentle heart who’s been targeted by jerks who are stronger and meaner than him.”
She continued to tell him about her son, as if Gabe hadn’t spent enough time with the boy to understand his issues. But Gabe’s mind had, unfortunately, snagged on a few of the words she’d used to describe him. A badass stud with rippling muscles. That couldn’t possibly be how Angi Guilardi saw him.
No matter how many hours Gabe trained or how many missions he’d completed during his time in the military, he still looked in the mirror and saw the skinny dork he’d been.
He figured Angi, who’d known him better than almost anyone when they were kids, would be the same.
“Stop talking about him like he’s a victim.”
“He is a victim of those bullies.” She pulled a cell phone out of her back pocket and jabbed a thumb against the screen. “I’m going to call that school and give his teacher a piece of my mind. It’s ridiculous that they haven’t dealt with those little hooligans.”
Gabe took advantage of her discomposure to slip the phone from her hand. He held it above his head when she tried to grab it from him. At nearly five-ten, Angi was taller than most women, but he still had a good five inches on her. He might not have come into his full height until his late teens, but he took full advantage of it now. “Hold on to all the pieces of your mind. I said I wasn’t teaching him to fight.”
He waited until she settled, then added, “I’d never do that without your permission. You’re his mother, and you call the shots. But those other avenues of dealing with confrontation are just as valuable. Remember that Mr. Miyagi believed fighting was a last resort.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly, “for the permission part.”
He nodded. “Of course. He’s a good kid, Ang. Stronger than he realizes and smart as a whip.”
“He gets that from his father,” she told him, seeming to begrudge the words even as she spoke them.
“Andrew said he’s never met his dad.”
She sucked in a visible breath. “He told you that?”
“He talks a lot.”
“Not to me.” She bit down on her lower lip. “His father was more of a sperm donor, although the pregnancy was accidental. No, I don’t like that word. I don’t like any of the words to describe it. Accidental, unintentional, a mistake. All of them give the impression that I would have chosen a different outcome if I had it to do all over again.”
“Which isn’t the case?”
“I wouldn’t trade Drew for anything. I’m so much better a person because I’m his mom.”
Gabe could see that. Her love for him shone from her like a spotlight, bathing everything around her in a golden glow. Whether she was talking sweetly to her son or gearing up for a battle on his behalf, that love infused every part of her. He didn’t want to think of Angi in any sort of positive light, but she wasn’t the insecure, social-climbing princess she’d turned into the last summer he spent in Magnolia.
“His father didn’t feel the same?”
She shook her head, dark eyes going black like bitter espresso. “We’d only been dating a couple of months, and he was the owner of the restaurant where I worked. My boss’s boss. You have to understand that I was living what I thought was my dream life. I’d gotten out of this town and was working in a restaurant where they served creative, innovative recipes. The head chef was a woman, still not as common as you’d think in the restaurant industry. She’d been a pioneer in the Manhattan culinary scene, and the fact that she hired me made me believe I’d made it.”
“Sounds exactly like how you’d planned things to go,” he told her.
She frowned as if she didn’t remember that they’d shared their dreams for the future back when they’d been summer friends. Gabe hadn’t forgotten. He seemed to remember every detail of his time with Angi like her essence had been tattooed on his heart. Stupid heart.
“My pregnancy changed everything.” She shrugged. “At first the chef, Monica, was willing to let me stay on. But I think she got pressure from my ex-boyfriend, her boss. She had a strict policy about dating coworkers, so we’d kept things hidden from everyone. It was a betrayal, and she fired me.”
“Andrew’s father had you fired?”
“Yeah. He made it clear that if I ‘handled things’ he’d reconsider. I handled the pregnancy by moving back to Magnolia.”
“You made the right choice.”
She didn’t exactly smile in response, but there was a softening around the corners of her eyes that told him she appreciated his words. “It was an easy one to make, although the fact that my son is struggling breaks my heart. Maybe if I’d found a way to stay in New York, we would have had more choices for schools or finding a place where he could belong.”
“He belongs here. This is his home.”
“You aren’t going to believe this,” she said with a laugh and an eye roll, “but I’m glad he found you.”
“You’re right. I don’t believe it.”
“It’s true.” She placed a hand on his arm, and his skin burned from the contact. “We might be sworn enemies, but you’ve been through a lot. You can understand and help him.” She leaned in. “You will help him, right?”
“Are we sworn enemies?” He shifted closer, so much so that he could feel her breath on his jaw.
“You hate me,” she reminded him, her voice just the slightest bit shaky.
“I should,” he agreed. “But when we’re together, I keep forgetting why.”
He hadn’t forgotten, but when she was close the reasons didn’t seem to matter. So much so that he leaned in and brushed his lips across hers. Something he’d wanted to do on so many summer nights back when they were young. She tasted exactly like he’d imagined—sweet and spice and like she could wreck him with one word or callous action.
Oh, yeah. This way led straight for a fall, and he wanted to pitch himself over the cliff without a second thought.
Luckily, Angi had more sense. She broke the kiss and stepped away from him, her gaze wary.
“That was unexpected.”
Gabe gave a slow nod, not trusting himself to form a coherent sentence.
“And a mistake.”
“Yep,” he managed as if his heart wasn’t about to pound out of his chest.
“I should get back.” She edged toward the door, reaching for it as she pulled her jacket more tightly around herself. As if a few layers of fabric could protect her from the desire pulsing between them.
“It was the mistletoe,” he said, pointing toward the ceiling. “It didn’t mean anything, Ang. You don’t have to worry I don’t know that.”
She followed his gaze to the sprig of berries and greenery that Andrew had encouraged him to hang. Gabe remembered his grandmother bragging about how she’d played matchmaker to more than one couple over the holidays by a well-placed bough of mistletoe.
In truth, Gabe hadn’t given the fanciful idea much consideration until he witnessed Angi’s reaction and had a sobering recognition of the line he’d crossed. He figured a mistletoe excuse was better than nothing.
She laughed, sounding only a tiny bit hysterical. “That stuff is dangerous,” she said, then offered a patently fake smile. “Enjoy your lunch.”
“I will,” he promised. “I’ll help your kid, too. Keep sending him over after school.”
“I don’t think he’d stay away,” she said, and then disappeared with a wave.
As the door shut tight behind her, Gabe realized he was hoping Andrew wasn’t the only one.
SUNDAYAFTERNOON, Angi sorted through a new rack of dresses in Mariella’s store, A Second Chance. She still found it difficult to believe that one of the most famous wedding dress designers in the world—a woman who’d created custom gowns for Hollywood A-listers and even an actual European princess—could be happy running a small boutique in Magnolia.
But Mariella didn’t seem to miss her former life and all the glamour that went with it. For the most part, she refused to talk about her past, although there had been a flurry of press after Mariella had designed a wedding dress for Magnolia native Holly Adams when she’d married Senator Brett Carmichael in an exclusive ceremony and reception hosted at the Wildflower Inn.
Mariella had left the fashion world in disgrace after making a scene at the wedding of a world-famous actress who had also been sleeping with Mariella’s fiancé on the side. Angi had a feeling that if the sophisticated blonde wanted another chance, she could reinvent herself, a fashion phoenix rising from the ashes.
She also knew that Mariella had taken on a few select clients since Holly’s wedding. Women she liked, not necessarily famous or rich, but brides whose stories of love and happily-ever-after appealed to Mariella’s hidden romantic side.
“Do you think I should highlight my hair?” she asked as Mariella came out of the back room with two mugs of tea.
“Your hair is beautiful just the way it is.”
“But it’s so dark,” Angi complained. “One dimensional. Maybe if I lightened it—”
“Blondes don’t actually have more fun,” Mariella interrupted, shaking her head. “Are you thinking about a new hairstyle for any particular reason?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Just out of character for you to worry about your hair, especially with everything else going on at the moment. Now, if you want to do it for a distraction, I’m all for that. But let’s do something fun like a blue streak.”
“No primary colors. During dinner, Artie mentioned that his ex-girlfriend—also Italian—went blond,” Angi admitted. “He said she got a promotion at work because suddenly she didn’t look so ethnic.”
“Ethnic?” Mariella sputtered out a disbelieving snort. “I hope you kicked him in the family jewels.”
“I’ve known Artie since we were in diapers.”
“Then you know where to find them. Probably tiny little walnuts.”
“He meant well.”
“No, he didn’t. Tell me the rest of the date was better than that line would lead me to believe.”
“Discussing my hair color was pretty much the highlight.” Angi sighed. “Not that I thought it was going to be a love match, but he talked most of the time about his ex-girlfriend.”
“The blonde with the promotion?”
Angi nodded. “I guess she also upgraded for a better boyfriend.”
“Can’t say as I blame her.”
“Me neither.”
“You didn’t like this guy, right?”
“Not in the least. So why does it bother me that the feeling was mutual?”
“When was the last time you got busy with a guy?”
“That’s gross.” Angi focused on one of the dresses, running a finger along the scalloped neckline of a pretty yellow sheath. “Also private. Should I upgrade my wardrobe? Maybe start showing a bit more leg?”
“It’s been almost two years for me,” Mariella said without hesitation. “Since I found out my fiancé was shagging one of my best clients.”
“I’ve got another year on you,” Angi said with a sigh. “And it wasn’t even that good, so I’m not sure it counts.”
“It counts,” Mariella told her. “But not a lot.”
“I’ve kind of given up. How sad is that? My mother is more concerned about my dating life than I am. She’s already got two more potential men lined up for me, and it’s making me crazy. I don’t want to go out with guys my mom picks.”
She breathed out a tired laugh. “I barely have the energy to shave my legs, let alone worry about cute undies or whether I care about a man who knows how to kiss.”
“Everyone cares about a man who’s a good kisser.”
A woman in her midthirties with two young girls walked into the store. Angi busied herself looking at racks of handbags while Mariella spoke to them.
She wasn’t sure what was worse, the fact that she was seriously too tired to care about dating or that Gabe Carlyle, the last man on earth she wanted to feel attracted to, was the one who’d given her the best kiss of her entire life, and he hadn’t even gotten around to using his tongue. Yes, he was handsome as sin and sexy in that quiet, brooding way he had. But she didn’t like him. She shouldn’t like him.
There was no time in her life for a man, despite what her mom believed.
“You might not want to date, but damn, girl, by the look on your face that must be some fantasy life.”
Angi lifted a hand to her suddenly flaming cheek and tried to ignore Mariella’s smirk. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s something,” Mariella countered. “Something we could both apparently use more of in our lives.”
“Not me, not now. I came here to talk about the inn, and somehow we’ve gotten sidetracked by my nonexistent love life. I need to get my mom off the scent of a man for me. She’s got way too much time on her hands since she’s not busy at the restaurant.” Angi checked her watch. “I haven’t told her I’m still working at the inn, so she thinks I’ve got time, too.”
“Make up a boyfriend,” Mariella suggested as she straightened a display of colorful scarves.
“Lie to my mother?”
Mariella lifted a brow. “Are you saying you’ve never done that before? Because I’m fairly certain you just admitted to a lie of omission with regards to the inn.”
Angi shook her head. “That’s different. It’s for my mom’s own good.”
“I’m not sure I agree.” Mariella took a step toward the counter as the customers made their way there with several bath items and a set of matching earrings and a necklace. “Perhaps this is as good a time as any to think of your own good. You do a lot of living based on what will make other people happy, lady.”
Angi couldn’t deny it so she didn’t bother. But to make up a boyfriend seemed needlessly complicated and like it would backfire on her in the end. Surely if she had someone, her mom would want to meet him. What kind of guy could Angi possibly come up with that would do the trick and not be too much work?
An image of Gabe once again flashed in her mind and she practically groaned out loud. He’d be the perfect pretend boyfriend. Hot, a great kisser, nice to her kid, and clearly interested in avoiding her as much as she wanted to give him a wide berth.
The idea of it was ridiculous. He wasn’t made-up. He was an actual person, one who had every reason not to want to be involved with her.
He’d be a perfect choice.
The customers left with their packages, but before Mariella could make her way back over another group walked in. The store seemed to attract women of all ages and shapes, and Angi had yet to see someone leave without a bag and a smile. There was a market for retail in Magnolia these days. Looking around gave her ideas for home decor and small gift items Gabe could add to his inventory to attract a wider range of customers.
Maybe she could offer to help him update things in exchange for him pretending to be her boyfriend—strictly to give her a break from her mother’s matchmaking. They were already going to need to spend time together for festival planning. It would be easy and uncomplicated for both of them.
“Give me a call later,” Angi called to Mariella as she headed for the door. “I have a meeting at town hall, but I’ll be around all afternoon.”
Mariella waved and Angi headed out, a new spring in her step. She had a plan for her holiday fake boyfriend that just might work. At least she could get one aspect of her life under control before Christmas, and that was enough for her right now.