Gabe might not have approved, but he didn’t seem too angry. In fact, when she caught his eye, he laughed and shook his head. “Did you have to do that?”
With a meaningful glance at Race, she smiled brightly. “One good turn deserves another.”
“We’ll see,” he said softly.
Hannah had no way of guessing his intentions, but the promise in his voice definitely had her worried.
CHAPTER TEN
“I’VE DECIDED what you can do to make it up to me.”
They were on their way home from Asiago’s, and Hannah was feeling full from the meal and relaxed from the wine. When Gabe spoke, she turned away from watching the highway rush under their tires. “Make what up to you?”
Oncoming headlights momentarily lit his face, making his eyes shine like pieces of cobalt. “The accident.”
Where was he going with this? “There isn’t any way to make it up to you,” she said. “Therein lies the problem.”
“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.”
As angry and bitter as she suspected Gabe was, he’d gone from ignoring her and trying to shut her out of his life to setting her up with a male model. Why hadn’t he rejected her and Ashleigh’s invitation? “You like toying with me, don’t you?”
“Of course. Your crushing guilt makes you easy to bait.”
“Not that easy,” she said. She didn’t bother denying the crushing guilt part. Sometimes she felt so bad about what she’d done she wanted to wake up in someone else’s skin. “Anyway, you’ve piqued my curiosity. How can I make it up to you?”
He turned down the radio, which was playing Shania Twain’s “She’s Not Just a Pretty Face.” “I need my windows cleaned,” he said. “Since I started coaching, I can’t get around to it.”
She blinked at him. “You want me to wash your windows?”
“Only if it’d make you feel better.”
She could tell he was fighting a smile. “What if it wouldn’t?” she asked bluntly.
He let go of an exaggerated sigh. “I guess I’ll just have to keep struggling along on my own.”
She laughed out loud at his martyr act. “You don’t seem to struggle too much,” she said. “Except maybe when it comes to interpersonal relationships. Closeting yourself away for months on end isn’t exactly healthy behavior.”
“I’m great at relationships,” he countered. “Look at how good we’re getting along.”
When he ignored her reference to his seclusion, she figured he didn’t want to talk about the past three years.
She wondered if he’d ever open up and share his pain with her or anyone else. He wasn’t an easy man to get to know; he had too many layers. She seemed to have peeled away the top one—the social persona he showed the outside world—but there were depths to him she knew she’d probably never see.
Patti’s comments came to mind, and Hannah briefly wondered what it’d take to reach the very heart of him. She wanted to get to know the real Gabe. But she figured she should be grateful for the progress she’d made and, taking her cue from him, kept the conversation light.
“Revenge is hardly a good basis for friendship,” she observed, raking her fingers through her hair.
“Most women would consider being set up with a guy like Race a real treat.”
“Sorry, but I have trouble devoting much time to a conversation about whether or not someone is losing their tan.”
He shot her another glance. “Boy, are you picky. Now you’re looking for someone who’s young, blond, handsome and a good conversationalist?”
“I’m not looking for anyone!” she said.
“Race isn’t my only friend, you know.”
“Stop right there.” She raised her hands. “No more blind dates. I already told you, I don’t want to remarry, so there’s no reason for me to go out with your friends.”
“What about sex?”
She refused to look at him. “What about it?”
“You’re willing to give up that kind of intimacy for the rest of your life?”
She almost said that his lifestyle suggested he was giving up that kind of intimacy, too. But this time she managed to curb her tongue. Although his amazement indicated otherwise, she wasn’t positive he could make love. “This night, this crazy conversation—it’s my fault, isn’t it? I couldn’t walk away three years ago, couldn’t say, ‘Sorry Gabe, better luck next time.’”
The teasing glint in his eyes disappeared. “You couldn’t walk away three days ago,” he said, “but—” his full lips curved into a crooked grin “—I like that about you.”
She felt unexpected warmth coming from him and knew she’d just peeled back another layer of his personality. That she was somehow getting closer to him made her feel…breathless. It had to be his smile, she decided. He’d never smiled at her like that before.
“Considering what happened three years ago, it’s amazing you can like anything about me,” she said, trying to interest herself in the dark trees flying past her window instead of his far-too-handsome profile.
“See? There you go with the accident again.” He slung an arm over the steering wheel, driving as comfortably as any other man. “You definitely need to do my windows.”
She pictured him laughing and smiling at dinner, remembered the covert glances he’d shot her way—and how they’d made her skin tingle as if he’d touched her. She had an inkling that her plan to draw him out was backfiring, but he’d gone out tonight, hadn’t he? She wasn’t going to argue with success. “If I wash the windows, when would you like them done?”
“What’s your schedule like tomorrow? Will the boys be home?”
“It’s my weekend, but Russ called earlier, wanting to take them to a car show.”
“And being the nice person that you are, you said yes, right?”
His tone made her scowl. “I’m not a pushover,” she said. “At least not anymore.”
A logging truck rumbled past going the opposite direction, making it difficult for her to hear Gabe’s response. “If you say so.”
“It’s just that the boys were pretty excited,” she explained, feeling defensive. “How could I say no?”
“You couldn’t,” he agreed, but she suspected he was teasing her and wasn’t happy that he’d pegged her as such a softie. She wasn’t weak. She couldn’t be. She’d endured the loss of her father, the death of her mother, the disillusionment of divorce. Yet she’d taught herself a trade, established a business and made a home for her boys.