Stranger in Town

Grabbing his hat, Mike stood and clasped Gabe’s hand. “Thanks, buddy. I knew I could count on you.” He strode to the door but hesitated there. Predictably, his visit wasn’t over yet. “Don’t suppose you’d consider coming to my house and letting Lucky make you dinner in the next week or two,” he said.

Gabe clenched his jaw. Mike extended an invitation like this almost every time they saw each other. But Gabe couldn’t really hold it against him. Mike loved Lucky. Of course he’d try to get her whatever she wanted, and ever since Gabe’s father had taken that paternity test, it was no secret that she was eager to become friends with the family she’d so recently discovered.

“Maybe sometime,” he said.

Mike sighed. “The old ‘Don’t call me, I’ll call you,’ huh?”

“You got me to coach. Be happy with that.”

“I am happy with that.”

From his friend’s sudden smile, Gabe suspected Mike was secretly congratulating himself despite the failed dinner invitation. He’d just handpicked his father’s successor and dragged Gabe back into society at the same time.

But coaching was a concession Gabe had to make. He owed Coach Hill. And he hated Melvin Blaine.

“MOM, WHERE ARE YOU?” The front door slammed shut behind Hannah Price’s oldest son, and his footfalls landed heavy on the stairs as he took them two or three at once. “Mom!”

A chill of apprehension swept down Hannah’s spine at the distress in the sixteen-year-old’s voice. It had already been a rough week. What was wrong now?

“In my office,” she called and set aside the frame she’d been examining. One of the manufacturers she’d been working with for the past several months was starting to send her substandard material. She had to put a stop to it—but that could wait.

Kenny charged into the room wearing gym shorts, a cut-off T-shirt that was soaked with sweat, and a pair of muddy cleats. He’d obviously come straight from practice, but she didn’t scold him for tracking mud into the house. She was too worried about the pained expression on his face.

“What’s the matter?”

He slumped onto the step stool Hannah used to reach her office supplies on the top shelves of the closet, and for probably the hundredth time this summer, Hannah realized just how tall he was getting. He’d been stocky as a young child—like Brent, her seven-year-old, who’d come as a complete surprise long after she’d decided not to have another kid. But over the past few years Kenny’s baby fat had melted away. With his thick brown hair and brown eyes, he looked so much like her he sometimes resented it. Too many people told him he was almost as pretty as his mother.

“Why did Coach Hill have to die?” he asked, sounding more like the little boy he used to be than the man he was becoming.

She smiled sadly at him. “You’re missing him, huh?”

The news of Larry Hill’s passing had moved her son to tears even though he considered himself too old for crying. And he hadn’t been alone. The entire football team had wept through the funeral. Hannah was grieving, too. As a single mother, she was especially grateful to Dundee’s football coach for taking an interest in Kenny and for being such a good role model. Especially because owning her own business—a photography studio, which she ran out of her renovated garage and spare bedroom—meant she couldn’t always be available to her son.

“The guys are saying I won’t get to play this season,” he said.

She shoved some of the files she had stacked on the floor to the side so she could scoot her chair closer to him. She was tempted to go into her “don’t worry, it’s just a game” speech, but didn’t. Russ, her ex-husband and Kenny’s father, cared more about Kenny’s football career than Kenny did. Five minutes with him would wipe out all her attempts to bring football into perspective. It always did. “Of course you’ll get to play. You started every game last year.”

“That was JV, Mom. Coach Blaine called me up to varsity yesterday. And now that Coach Hill is gone—”

“Whoa.” She squeezed one of the overlarge hands dangling between his knees. If Kenny ever grew into his hands and feet, he’d be a very tall man indeed. “Whoever they find to replace him will recognize your talent.”

“They’ve already found someone,” he said glumly.

“Who?”

“Gabriel Holbrook.”

Hannah jerked back at the name. “What?”

“You heard me.” Kenny blinked rapidly, as if he was close to tears again, and she could understand why. In her mind, she heard the collision that still haunted her dreams, felt that weightless, ominous tumbling….

“The guys are right, aren’t they?” he added, head and shoulders drooping. “He’s gonna hate my guts.”

“Of course he won’t hate you,” she said, but in her heart she wasn’t sure. How would Gabe feel toward her son? Would he really want to see Kenny excel at a sport he could no longer play because of her?

Kenny kicked a brightly colored ball she used when photographing babies. It hit the wall with a sharp smack. “I wish that accident never happened.”

If only she could turn back the calendar…. Hannah had regretted leaving the house that night every minute of her life since.

Her son looked at her imploringly. “Maybe it wasn’t totally your fault. Maybe he was driving too fast and—”

“No, it was me.” Of course, she wouldn’t have been on the road, driving like a maniac if not for Russ and the panic she’d felt for her children’s safety. But Hannah knew it wouldn’t do any good to point that out. She was the one who’d hit Gabe head-on as he was coming home for the Christmas holidays. With a tragedy like that, reasons and explanations didn’t help.

Kenny shoved the hair out of his troubled eyes. “I’ve heard what everyone else has to say about the accident. But you never talk about it. What happened, Mom?”

Hannah shook her head. She couldn’t give him the details. The repercussions of that night made her too heartsick. She’d grown up knowing Gabe. He’d been larger than life, talented, charismatic, the guy who had it all.

In the space of a heartbeat, she’d changed everything. The new Gabe hid a world of hurt behind his blue eyes, kept to himself and rarely ventured into public. But he was still strikingly handsome. Besides eyes that seemed deeper than the ocean, he had wavy black hair, a lean, chiseled face and a rock-hard body. “The guy I know wouldn’t hold what I did against you.”

“How can he help it?” Kenny asked. “He can’t even walk because of you.” Drawing up his knees, he rested his chin on his arms. “Did you ever apologize to him?”

“Of course.”

“Did he accept it?”

“I think so,” she said, but she couldn’t be too confident about that, either. The face Gabe showed the world these days, if he showed himself at all, seemed like some sort of mask. She didn’t know what was going on underneath it. When she tried to tell him how sorry she was, he either acted as though he wasn’t interested enough to listen. Or he gave her a gorgeous smile and told her it was fate.

His generous attitude only made her feel worse. As late as a few months ago, after they’d bumped into each other at Finley’s Grocery on one of his rare appearances in town, he’d even sent her a brief note telling her to stop apologizing, that there wasn’t any need to think of him again.

She didn’t want to think of him. But guilt made that impossible. Besides, they lived in too small a town for her to avoid mention of him. She was quite aware that she was now better known for ruining the career and the life of Dundee’s only hero than she was for her photography.

“I don’t think Coach Blaine’s any happier than I am about Gabe taking over as head coach,” Kenny said.

“Why not?”

“He thought he was getting the job.”

“Did he say something about it at practice today?”

“Nothing to the whole team. But his face went red when Mike Hill showed up to make the announcement. And I heard him mumble to Coach Owens that if they think a crippled, washed-up football player can coach better than he can, they’ve got another think coming.”

Hannah pressed a hand to her chest. “He called Gabe a crippled, washed-up football player?”

“Yeah.”

A hard knot lodged in Hannah’s stomach. She’d already done enough to make Gabe’s life miserable. She didn’t want her son involved in the drama at the high school. “Kenny?”

He was still wearing a sullen expression when he glanced up at her.

“You give Coach Holbrook everything you’ve got, you hear me? You play hard. You do what he says. And you don’t complain.”

“What if he benches me because I’m related to you?”

“Regardless.”

“But Mom—”

“He’s head coach, Kenny. He should have your loyalty, your respect and your support.”

“What about Coach Blaine?”

“What about him? You never liked him much before now.”

“He’s okay to certain players.”

“He has his favorites, and he has his scapegoats. Just because you might have become one of his favorites doesn’t mean I like his methods. Stay away from him as much as possible,” she said, but as her son stood to leave, she had no idea whether or not he’d listen to her. Especially considering that Russ had lost his starting position to Gabe in high school and was likely to give Kenny conflicting advice.

CHAPTER TWO

BECAUSE GABE HAD BECOME such a recluse, Hannah had imagined his remote cabin as the stereotypical small shack with an overgrown yard, barrels filled with drinking water off to the side and a collection of beer bottles or hubcaps cluttering the front porch. What she saw as she parked behind his truck was a rather large, honey-colored two-story cabin with a neatly tended yard. Ivy climbed the stone chimney, a hammock swung gently in the breeze, and the porch didn’t have a single beer bottle or hubcap—it had unusual, attractive furniture made of tree branches.

The scent of rich earth and pine filled her nostrils as she got out of her car. Although it would be plenty warm later in the day, it was still chilly in the mountains, and she could see smoke streaming from Gabe’s chimney.

Obviously, he was home—but she’d expected him to be. Football practice wasn’t for another two hours.

Fidgeting nervously with her keys, she finally shoved them into her purse as she approached the house. After his note telling her not to apologize anymore, Hannah knew Gabe would rather she leave him alone. In fact, he’d made it pretty clear he wanted everyone to leave him alone. But now that he’d decided to coach the Dundee High varsity football team, Hannah needed to talk to him.

A classic rock station played inside the house, so she knocked loudly to compensate. Gabe’s dog, Lazarus, whom most people had met—Gabe never left the cabin without him—started barking, but Gabe didn’t appear.

Was he working on something in back? She’d heard he built furniture. Now that she’d seen the chairs on his porch, she knew he was no amateur. Perhaps he’d sell her one. She could take some great photographs of children seated in a chair like that, holding a bunny or a dog….

She knocked again.

Nothing, except more barking from Lazarus.

There was a wooden gate on the side of the house. She walked around and, calling to announce her presence, let herself into the backyard, where she found a deeper porch with more eclectic patio furniture. A set of wind chimes rang as she followed a concrete path that weaved through a spectacular garden toward a large workshop, the door of which stood open.

“Gabe?” When she stuck her head inside, she couldn’t see him, but she saw lots of other interesting things. There was a carved mahogany armoire that still needed to be stained, a metal dinosaur that looked as if it belonged in a garden as elegant as his, a grandfather clock, several other clocks and parts of clocks, a sea chest, and three rocking chairs in different sizes.

Hannah doubted she’d ever seen more beautiful work. The hand-carved rocking chairs were fabulous. They reminded her of her favorite childhood story, The Three Bears. Just as she decided to try one out, she heard Gabe’s voice at the door.

“Is there something I can do for you, Hannah?”

Someone’s been sitting in my chair…. She jumped up as he rolled across the threshold—and fought the urge to dash around him and run off. He was wearing jeans and a white golf shirt that showed off the depth of his tan and made her suspect he did a lot of his sanding and staining outdoors without a shirt. And his hair was wet.

“Sorry to intrude,” she said. “I knocked at the house but no one answered. I thought maybe I’d find you back here.”

Lazarus trotted forward to welcome her with a sniff and a lick on the hand.

“I was in the shower.”

Hannah couldn’t read his expression very well, but she thought she detected a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”

“I’m guessing it has something to do with Kenny.” Lazarus licked her again, but when Gabe whistled and snapped his fingers, the dog immediately moved back to his side. “He’ll be on my team this year, won’t he?”

She could smell turpentine in the shop, the scent of tomato plants drifting in from the garden. “Yes.”

“From what I’ve seen, he’s pretty good.”

“Football means a lot to him.”

She clasped her hands nervously behind her back. Football had meant a lot to Gabe, too.

Suddenly it seemed stupid for her to have come out to his cabin. She wasn’t the right person to help him. Gabe might be in a wheelchair, but he still had a powerful presence. She knew from everything she’d seen so far that he could compensate for his handicap. Blaine probably wouldn’t pose any problem for him.

But she was already here. It was too late to back out.

“Actually, I didn’t come to talk about Kenny. I wanted to warn you that you might run into a little resentment from Coach Blaine.”

He rubbed his chin with his knuckles. “What makes you think so?”

Gabe had kissed her once, at a high-school graduation party. For some reason, Hannah couldn’t help thinking of that now. His mouth had been soft and commanding, his hands firm on her back as he pressed her against him. He’d been the boy “Most Likely to Succeed,” if not by actual vote by common understanding, and she’d gone home with a huge crush….

“Hannah?”

She was staring at the shape of his lips, which, like his thick-lashed eyes and the rest of his deeply tanned face, was something to be admired.

Clearing her throat, she felt her cheeks warm as she scrambled to remind herself of his question—why did she think he might have trouble with Coach Blaine? “Something Kenny mentioned to me when he came home from practice yesterday,” she said.

“What was that?”

No way was she going to tell Gabe what Blaine had called him. “Basically, he’s jealous that you got the position he wanted.”

He didn’t seem impressed that she’d driven so far to warn him. “So?”

She blinked in surprise. “I’m afraid he might work against you, try to make you look bad somehow, make you feel unwelcome.”

“So?” he repeated.

“So…I wanted to tell you to watch your back.”

Lazarus barked, but Gabe quickly and easily silenced him by putting a hand on his head. “I can take care of myself, Hannah,” he said. “I don’t need you to protect me.”

“I know. I just…” Her words faltered. He was right. If he weren’t in a wheelchair, she wouldn’t have come out here. She would have known he could handle Coach Blaine.

All the regret she’d felt since the accident caused a painful ache in her chest. She wanted to redeem herself somehow. Make things right. But there wasn’t any way to do that. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Tears burned behind her eyes. She fought them as she tried to skirt past him, but he caught her wrist before she could clear the workshop door. “Hannah?”

The warmth of his touch seemed to wrap around her like a blanket. Again she remembered that night twenty years ago when he’d kissed her. She wished he’d kiss her now, wished he could be the man he used to be. She had walked away from that accident with only a broken arm and a gash on the forehead, but she wasn’t sure she’d ever recover from the remorse.

“I’m fine,” he said firmly. “You have to forgive yourself, okay?”

He let go, but she didn’t move away. She wanted to throw her arms around him so she could feel his heart beating. She knew he was right. They both needed to get over the accident and move on. Only he wasn’t fine. He was sitting in a wheelchair, and he was angry and bitter, even if he was trying not to direct those emotions at her. “Gabe…”

“What?”

She didn’t have the right to ask him for anything, but that ache in her chest made it impossible to walk away. Unable to find words, she ran two tentative fingers down the side of his face.

His eyes immediately riveted on hers. She recognized the raw need that flared inside them and was so surprised to see his defenses slipping, she couldn’t breathe. He looked as if he was starved for human touch, and it was little wonder. He’d lost so much. And what he hadn’t lost, he’d rejected.

The dog whined and suddenly, the mask of indifference Gabe usually wore snapped into place. “Don’t do me any favors,” he said gruffly, rolling back several inches. “Forget about me and go on with your life.”

She let her hand fall to her side. “I can’t forget you,” she admitted. But before he could respond, Lazarus tore off, barking, and Mike Hill strode into the backyard.

STRUGGLING TO COPE with the powerful emotions that had come out of nowhere, Gabe whistled for Lazarus and focused on Mike’s approach. Hannah would leave soon and his pulse would settle. He just needed to bide his time, ignore the sudden yearning, stick with his therapy so he could eventually reclaim his life. Since the accident, he’d withdrawn from everyone, even his family. It was only natural he’d miss the closeness and the physical interaction.

“There you are.” Mike wore a congenial smile as he petted Lazarus, but Gabe recognized the surprise running underneath that smile. Hannah would be about the last person Mike would expect to find here. Gabe sighed. What had happened to his blessed solitude? He’d moved thirty miles from town and built his cabin on a hundred acres of forested mountaintop. Evidently, he hadn’t gone to enough trouble. Without outside interference, he could deal with his problems in his own way—could even remain oblivious to the exact depth of some of his more poignant losses. But when Mike talked about horses or football or even marriage and family, Gabe realized how much he missed his old life. And when Hannah touched him, he realized how badly he craved the smell, taste and feel of a woman.

Someday, he told himself. When he recovered….

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.”