Gabe quickly schooled his expression to hide his irritation at yet another intrusion into his private domain. “What brings you all the way out here again, Mike?” He knew his voice fell a little short of welcoming, but Mike didn’t seem to notice.
“I brought you the team roster.” He handed Gabe the clipboard he was carrying, then tipped his hat at Hannah. “I thought I recognized your Volvo, Hannah. How are you?”
“Fine, thanks,” she murmured, and Gabe hoped he was the only one who noticed the blush creeping up her neck. He didn’t want her to give away the fact that Mike had interrupted them at an awkward moment. Mike would probably have enough questions about Hannah’s presence as it was.
“How’s business?” Mike asked her.
Gabe knew Hannah worked hard to support her two boys. He also knew she had no choice if she wanted to see them fed and clothed. It was common knowledge that Russ Price certainly didn’t contribute much to the family. He didn’t have a job half the time.
“Pretty good,” she said. “Now that summer’s almost over, things are starting to slow down, which is good because I need to get Kenny and Brent ready for school.”
“Is Kenny playing on JV again this year?” Mike asked.
Gabe gave Mike a look he hoped would get him to shut up and back off. He knew what Mike was doing. Mike was trying to set Hannah’s expectations low, just in case Gabe decided to leave Kenny where he was.
“Coach Blaine brought him up to varsity last week,” she said.
Mike’s gaze flicked toward Gabe. “I hadn’t heard.”
“I hadn’t heard either,” Gabe said, and made a point of adding, “But that’s perfect, since I was planning on doing it myself.”
“Kenny will be glad to hear you think he belongs on varsity.” Picking up a tennis ball, she threw it for Lazarus. “I’ve got to do some shopping. I’d better go.”
Mike watched her leave, but Gabe turned his attention to a game of fetch with Lazarus. He didn’t see any point in admiring Hannah’s trim figure, her long dark hair, olive complexion or wide brown eyes. His libido was on hold indefinitely.
“Why was Hannah here?” Mike asked when she was gone.
Gabe called out to quiet Lazarus, who’d gotten distracted by a squirrel and was barking up a tree. “No reason.”
Mike challenged this response by cocking one eyebrow.
“It’s the first time she’s ever been out here. She came to tell me that Coach Blaine isn’t happy.”
“How does she know? Did she get specific?”
“No.” Gabe accepted the tennis ball Lazarus dropped in his lap. “I’m guessing Kenny overheard something at practice. That’s all.”
Mike frowned. “I could feel Blaine’s anger when I delivered the news,” he said, sounding almost as concerned as Hannah.
Gabe hated being treated so differently than before. “Is that why you drove thirty miles instead of delivering the roster to the field?” he asked, throwing the ball again. “To warn the poor cripple?”
Mike disarmed him with a slow smile. “Sorry, man. I didn’t expect to interrupt anything important—especially with Hannah Price.”
“Mike…” Gabe warned.
Turning his palms up in mock innocence, Mike shrugged. “I’m just glad to see you don’t blame her for the accident. What happened was Russ’s fault.”
Except that it wasn’t Russ who’d crashed into him. Had Hannah been two minutes earlier or two minutes later—or simply waited for Russ to bring the boys back…
“Any caring mother would go after her kids,” Mike said.
Sometimes Gabe agreed; sometimes he didn’t. Generally, he tried not to think of Hannah, or any other woman for that matter. “Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to drive that point home?”
His friend’s grin grew more meaningful. “Maybe it’s because I saw the way she was looking at you.”
Mike was always quick to point out when Gabe turned a pretty woman’s head, but Gabe had no patience for it. Regardless of the sudden awareness he’d felt a moment ago, that part of his life was in cold storage and would be until he could walk again. “Can we get back to football?”
“You have a lot of years ahead of you, Gabe. There’s no need to live them alone, especially because you’re the only thing stopping you from finding someone to share them with.”
Mike sounded like an echo of Gabe’s sister, Reenie. Everyone thought he should settle for what he could get out of life in a wheelchair. But Gabe had never been one to settle for anything. Walking again was his only priority. “In case I haven’t made myself clear enough in the past, I don’t want to hear your take on the situation, Mike,” he said.
Lazarus had dropped the ball in Gabe’s lap a few seconds earlier. Now he barked to get Gabe to respond. “Here you go, boy,” Gabe said and lobbed the ball into the air.
The dog took off after it as Mike walked up the ramp Gabe had installed on his deck and took a seat in a chair that hung from the rafters. Made of rattan, it was shaped like a bowl—another of Gabe’s recent experiments. “I’m just saying you should ask Hannah out, that’s all. What’s one date? I’m sure she’d go out with you.”
Gabe was sure of it, too. She felt so guilt-ridden about the accident she’d probably do almost anything he asked of her. But he wasn’t the slightest bit interested in exploiting her pity or anyone else’s. He hated pity. “Forget it.”
“Come on. Grab a movie with her or something. Lord knows she could use the break. It’s not easy raising those kids on her own.”
“I don’t think she’s raising them on her own.”
“For all intents and purposes she is. Russ’s involvement only makes things harder,” Mike said.
“And you know this, how?”
“It’s Dundee, Gabe. Everyone knows everyone else’s business.” He hesitated. “Except maybe yours.”
Gabe recovered the ball, but Mike’s statement about Russ making Hannah’s life more difficult had piqued his curiosity enough that he forgot to throw it. He wheeled a little closer. “He’s still giving her trouble?”
“He’ll always give her trouble. A week or so ago when Russ had the boys, Kenny caught Brent watching a p**n video.”
“How’d he get hold of it?”