Stranger in Town (Dundee, Idaho #5)(30)
Author: Brenda Novak

She’d expected Gabe’s house to contain more of the furniture she’d seen in the workshop, but there was an even bigger variety than she’d anticipated. The triangular accent tables in his living room drew her eye first. There were three, two side tables and a coffee table, and they were all made of a smooth, light-colored wood with a darker inlay. They were beautiful; she’d never seen anything quite like them.

Feeling the weight of the camera hanging around her neck, she longed to photograph the exquisite tables. But first she’d replace the more practical items he had on top of those tables—a remote control for his television, some Sports Illustrated magazines, a telephone and perpetual-motion clock—with a hand-blown glass vase and some exotic flowers.

She wondered if he’d ever thought about getting his furniture into decorator magazines.

Circling an unusual metal table that was as interesting as everything else, she moved into a kitchen that had blue marble countertops, white cupboards and a hardwood floor. Copper pots hung on hooks above an island, a wheat grinder was affixed to the counter, and a string of garlic hung from the ceiling along with baskets of fresh herbs and vegetables.

She liked it here, she realized. Maybe Gabe was closeting himself away, but he seemed to be handling the basics of life quite well. The only thing that made her uncomfortable was the absence of football plaques, trophies and pictures. Gabe had risen to heights most men only dreamed about. She should have found evidence of it here. But, so far, she’d seen only his exquisite collection of furniture and, on the walls, paintings of mountains, lakes and animals.

Why didn’t Gabe hang up anything to remind him of his incredible achievements? Did the contrast of what he’d once been make the present too painful?

With a sigh, she set the food on the metal table so she could rub her temples. If only she hadn’t tried to overtake…

“Hannah?”

Ashleigh’s voice carried easily through the screen door.

“What?”

“I was just telling Gabe about the stuffed mushrooms you made. Any chance you could bring us a couple?”

“Sure. Let me heat them up. They’ll be better that way.”

Hannah put the Stroganoff on the stove to simmer, then used the microwave to warm the mushrooms. She was tempted to explore the rest of the house, but she knew he valued his privacy and she needed to respect that.

She did allow herself a quick peek into the room off the kitchen, though. It had a high ceiling and one whole wall of windows, and was completely filled with exercise equipment. Obviously, Gabe worked out often. She knew that from looking at him, but—

The microwave beeped. She ducked back into the kitchen, grabbed the mushrooms and three glasses of wine and carried everything outside on a tray she found hanging just inside a large pantry.

Ashleigh paused from her work long enough to let Gabe try a mushroom and have a sip of wine. Then Hannah took his glass and set it on the ground next to her chair, away from the hair falling from the clippers.

“It’s incredible up here,” she said.

Gabe’s eyes darted her way, but he didn’t say anything. She suspected he was still a little put out by his surprise visitor and impromptu haircut. But she didn’t care. She had to push him. Someone had to push him.

“What do you think?” Ashleigh asked her several minutes later.

Hannah considered what Ashleigh had done to Gabe’s hair, and felt the same fluttery feeling she’d experienced when she’d stared up at him in his truck yesterday. The back was very short, but Ashleigh had left the front long enough to fall across his brow. The style seemed careless enough to fit his bad-boy image. It also emphasized the slight cleft in his chin, the five-o’clock shadow that darkened his jaw, and the pretty blue of his eyes.

“It’s…nice,” Hannah said simply, although “nice” didn’t begin to describe how good he looked.

Ashleigh dug a mirror out of her bag. “And you, sir? What do you think?”

He gave her a winning smile, but Hannah felt certain it was forced. They were dealing with the public, charming Gabe right now. He was on stage, doing his show. The real Gabe probably wanted to choke them for bothering him.

“I appreciate the house call,” he said. “How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing.” Ashleigh glanced at Hannah. “But I was hoping that maybe…Well, Hannah mentioned that you might like to go out with me on Saturday night. To dinner and a movie. Right, Hannah?”

Hannah had mentioned? Hannah had told her to ask him to join a group! But now that the subject of a date had been broached, she had no choice except to lend her support. “Right, uh…” She pasted a bright smile on her face. “Actually it’s a group thing. Ashleigh and a few friends are going to Boise for dinner and want you to join them.”

Gabe’s pleasant expression never wavered, but Hannah felt a distinct undercurrent. He blamed her for getting him into this awkward situation, and he wasn’t happy. “Really.”

“Right. It’s a group,” Hannah added.

“I think you mentioned that.”

“It’ll be just a few friends, having fun.” She waved toward Ashleigh, hoping to remind him of the appeal of those br**sts he’d admired not too long ago. “All the girls look like she does. Well, not exactly like she does, of course, but young, beautiful—” she scrambled for other descriptors that might appeal to him “—blond.”

“Blond?” he repeated with an arch of one eyebrow.

Hannah stifled a groan. Blond? Was she an idiot? She needed to calm down. “Mostly,” she said, hoping to smooth over her blunder. “Right, Ash?”

Ashleigh looked as though she was about to say something else. Knowing it probably wouldn’t be helpful, Hannah held her breath but, finally, Ashleigh nodded. “Uh…yeah, I guess.”

“Are you going?” he asked pointedly.

Hannah’s nails dug into her palms. “Me? No.”

“Why not? I’m sure Ashleigh wouldn’t mind if you joined us.” He looked to Ashleigh for confirmation.

“Of course not,” she said, but slowly enough to let Hannah know she wasn’t particularly excited about the idea.

“That’s sweet of you both,” Hannah said, ignoring the delay in Ashleigh’s response. “But I’m busy that night.”

“Doing what?” he prompted.

“I have to work.” She figured that was a pretty safe excuse because it was true. She always worked on the weekends—after the boys went to bed.