Meant for You Read online

  “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.”

  “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 porn video.”

  “How’d he get hold of it?”

  Lazarus barked, Gabe threw, and the dog took off again.

  “It was called My Little Pussy,” Mike said. “He thought it was about a kitten.”

  “God.” Gabe grimaced.

  “You got it.”

  “Did Kenny see the video, too?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “How’d you hear about it?”

  “Russ told half the people at the Honky Tonk last Monday. He found Brent’s questions about what he’d seen hilarious.”

  “What an idiot.” Gabe shook his head in disgust. “How’d she end up with a guy like him?”

  When Mike propped his arms behind his head and put his feet up on a nearby footrest, Gabe almost regretted asking. It looked as if his friend was planning to stay awhile, and having company wasn’t in keeping with Gabe’s plans. He needed to mentally prepare himself for his first practice with the team. After being out of circulation for three years, he’d be dealing with a lot of people. He’d face an onslaught of questions, an avalanche of curiosity, and plenty of rude, blatant stares. Being famous made him an attraction already. Now that he was crippled and famous, he couldn’t go anywhere without conversations falling to a hush and people whispering behind their hands.

  But he suspected Mike knew it wouldn’t be an easy day for him and had come over to keep him company—probably so Gabe wouldn’t back out. And as long as they were talking about Hannah, Mike was unlikely to bring up Lucky.

  “You don’t remember what happened between her and Russ?” Mike asked.

  “I’m not sure I ever knew.” He’d been away at college, too busy making his dream come true to pay much attention to what was happening in Dundee.

  “They got married a few months after she graduated from high school. She was pregnant.”

  Gabe glanced across the lawn, expecting Lazarus to come charging back to him, and saw him chasing another squirrel. “I can’t see her sleeping with Russ in the first place.”

  Mike shrugged. “Who knows how it happened? She couldn’t go away to college like the rest of us. She had to stay and take care of her mother, and Russ lived right next door.”

  A few weeds had infiltrated one of the garden boxes Gabe had built up off the ground. He bent forward to take care of the problem. “What was wrong with her mother?”

  “Cancer.”

  Gabe tossed the weed he’d pulled on top of the pile he was making. He’d heard about her mother; he remembered now. “Where was her father?”

  “Died in a plane crash when Hannah was little. I know they got some sort of settlement, but it was just her and her mom until her mother died.”

  Gabe smoothed the soil he’d disturbed and stretched to reach around another plant. Hannah must’ve been lonely….

  “My mother thinks she was after his family,” Mike added.

  Brushing the dirt from his hands, Gabe glanced up in surprise. “I’ve heard of a woman being after a guy’s money, but never his family.”

  “When Hannah’s mother got sick, it was Violet Price who helped her deal with the situation. After her mother died, Hannah might’ve been trying to cement those relationships, to hang on to the people she already cared about.”

  That sounded reasonable to Gabe—but the years didn’t match up. “Kenny’s only sixteen years old,” he said. “If she got pregnant right out of high school—”

  “She miscarried.” Mike gave him a sidelong look. “Any other questions I can answer for you about Hannah Price?”

  Gabe scowled. “We’re just talking, Mike. There’s nothing wrong with talking, is there?”

  Mike’s lips curved in a broad smile. “Not a thing, buddy. You need someone to fill you in on what you missed all those years you were busy showing off on national television.”

  Showing off… Mike had always teased him about his fame.

  Gabe smiled in spite of himself as he rolled over to the tool-shed to retrieve his small pruning shears. He’d spotted some dead blooms on his roses. “Considering the gap between Kenny and Brent, she must’ve stayed with Russ a long time.”

  Mike didn’t comment. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes and tilted his hat to shade his face.

  “Mike?”

  “What?”

  Gabe knew he was stupid to press the issue, but he was probably never going to hear the end of Hannah, anyway. So he risked one more question. “Why didn’t she leave him after the miscarriage?”

  “If you’re not interested in Hannah, why do you want to know so much about her?”

  “I’m familiarizing myself with the family situation of my starting quarterback. Coaches do that sort of thing.”

  Putting his feet down, Mike sat forward and nudged his hat up. “So Kenny’s the attraction?”

  “Of course.”

  Mike hardly looked convinced, but he shrugged. “Well then, for coaching’s sake, I’ll tell you this. I don’t know why she stayed as long as she did. Especially because Russ was a lousy husband. He went from one job to another, hung out at the Honky Tonk every weekend, went home drunk more times than not, and bought things they couldn’t afford, even when he wasn’t earning any money. My mother’s been a good friend of Violet’s for years and shakes her head whenever Russ’s name is mentioned.”

  Gabe lifted his gaze as Mike stood. “Was Hannah supporting the family with her photography way back then?”

  “Not in the early years. She worked at the diner, remember?”

  “No.” For more than a decade Gabe had been living out-of-state and hadn’t paid attention to anything beyond his career and his immediate circle of family and friends. “So when did she start taking pictures?”

  Mike crossed the deck. “Beats me. Must’ve been before the divorce, though, because I heard Russ went after her for spousal maintenance.”

  That statement made Gabe prick himself on a thorn. Mumbling a curse, he shook the sting out of his finger. “Tell me he didn’t win. Certainly she’s not supporting him….”

  Mike’s teeth flashed in another smile. “You’ll have to ask her.”

  “What?”

  His friend strode down the ramp and sauntered toward the gate. “Call her,” he said.

  “I’m not going to call her!”

  “Why not? Take her out to a movie.”

  “No way.”

  “You might have a good time, Gabe. Would that be so bad?”

  “Yes!”

  The gate clicked shut, and Gabe threw his pruning shears in the opposite direction. They arced, like a perfectly thrown football, imbedding themselves in the fence with a vibrating thwack that made Lazarus freeze near the trees and prick his ears forward. Having a good time with Hannah would be bad, Gabe thought. Because then he might want to see her again. And he couldn’t let himself get too comfortable. He had a long fight ahead of him. He couldn’t afford to bow beneath the odds and settle for spending the rest of his days in a wheelchair.

  “I’m not going to ask her out,” he called. But Mike was long gone, and only the deep bong of the wind chimes and Lazarus’s howl answered back.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE DAY HAD TURNED HOT and dry. The heat blasted into Gabe’s truck as he opened the door, lifted his wheelchair to the pavement and swung into it. Already he could feel the attention of those on the football field. Even the cheerleaders practicing stunts in front of the gym stopped to watch as he got out.