did, but that didn’t make her an authority on someone like Gabe Flanagan. A lot of emotions welled up when an active, driven man like Gabe had to confront a life-changing injury. That didn’t mean any of those emotions had to do with attraction.
She hadn’t felt anything, and neither had he. That was what she told Claire, and what she kept telling herself. Unfortunately Claire hadn’t believed it.
And as for her—well, if she believed herself, why then was she wearing a knit sweater with her jeans instead of her usual T-shirt? And why had she bothered touching up her lips with lip gloss and letting her hair swing loose on her shoulders?
Claire’s acid comments about her everyday attire came back to her, making her smile.
If you won’t dress a little better for Flanagan, then at least have pity on those poor chickens. It’s a wonder they’ll lay a single egg, having to look at you in that ragged T-shirt every day.
Well, she hoped the chickens were happy. When Claire called later for a report on the day, she could at least say she’d taken her fashion advice.
“Nolie?” Danny tugged on her arm. “Do you think I could meet him?”
“I don’t see why not.” She waved at Danny’s mother, who waited by her van, then wheeled him toward Gabe.
He leaned against the car door, apparently talking to his sister, but he straightened at their approach.
Nothing. You feel nothing, remember?
“Hi. I have someone here who wants to meet you.”
Gabe’s eyes seemed to darken, and she remembered too late his reaction when she’d suggested he talk to Danny about his seizure disorder.
“Danny, this is Gabriel Flanagan.”
“Hi, Danny. It’s nice to meet you.” Whatever he felt, he masked it as he held out his hand.
It was a long moment until Danny got his muscles to cooperate so that he could extend his hand. To his credit, Gabe didn’t show by the smallest flicker that he noticed that. Gabe made some comment about Lady, and they talked dogs as she bent to the car window to greet Terry.
Gabe’s sister was on the cell phone, but she smiled and waved.
By the time Nolie had straightened, Danny’s mother was wheeling the boy away. She could tell by the boy’s beaming face that it had gone well.
Terry leaned across the front seat to get Gabe’s attention. “I’m sorry, but I’ve been called in to work. I’ll try and reach Mom to pick you up.”
“Mom’s going out this afternoon.” Gabe’s mouth tightened in annoyance, she suspected, that he had to depend on others for something as simple as a ride. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll manage.”
“You have to have a ride.” Terry obviously felt torn.
“I have to go into town later anyway,” Nolie said. “I can easily drop you off.”
She didn’t want to make the offer, and he probably didn’t want to accept it. Spending more time in the man’s company was hardly the best way to get over the random attraction she’d imagined she felt. But she couldn’t very well do anything else.
“Thanks, Nolie. That’s great.” Terry seemed to take her brother’s acceptance for granted. “Gotta go.” She barely waited until Nolie stepped back before she gunned the motor and went spinning out of the lane.
“Sorry.” Gabe waved goodbye to Danny as they drove by more sedately. “My sister seems to have left her manners at home.”
“It’s fine. I’m happy to run you by the house when we’ve finished.”
Another half hour in his company. Well, she’d figure out a way to deal with it. Maybe being around him would inoculate her against all that masculine energy.
“Thanks.”
The word came out reluctantly, and she thought she knew why. Gabe didn’t want to feel indebted to her for anything.
She started walking toward the training center, and he fell into step beside her. That faint limp was still there, audible if not visible to anyone who knew enough to pay attention to the rhythm of his steps.
“I hope you don’t mind my introducing you to Danny. He asked to meet you.”
“No problem. But why did he want to meet me?” He frowned. “You didn’t tell him—”
“I didn’t tell him about your seizure disorder.” She used the words deliberately, hoping frequent use might rob them of some of their sting.
“Then why?”
“Surely you’ve run into that before. To a little kid, especially one like Danny who can’t get around much, a firefighter is someone to look up to. I’m afraid he has a bad case of hero-worship.”
She felt his steps halt, saw the tension drive lines deeper in his face. “He shouldn’t,” he said shortly.
He’d reacted before to that word. Maybe she’d better bring this out into the open. If they were to have any sort of a working relationship, she didn’t want to keep tripping over things that bothered him.
“I’ve obviously said the wrong thing. Is it some sort of faux pas to refer to a firefighter as a hero—one of those things every firefighter knows?”
“No.” His eyes had gone so dark they were almost black. “But if you want to call someone a hero, make it one of the firefighters who died in that warehouse fire. They were the heroes, not me.”
Her breath caught at the pain etched into his words. He’d known those men who died, obviously. Still grieved for them. She reached toward him almost involuntarily, wanting to comfort him, not knowing how.
“I’m sorry.” Her throat went tight on the words. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
He shook his head, as if to shake off her sympathy. “Not your fault.” He grasped her hands in both of his suddenly, and the sensation of his touch traveled straight up her arms in a warming wave, wiping out all the rational things she’d been saying to herself about the attraction she felt.
“Still, I—” Whatever she might have intended to say seemed to get lost in a welter of reaction.
“Look, I’m no hero. I’m just a man with a job to do. If you want to help me, make sure I go back to work. I’m over this seizure thing. I’m ready.”
Her mind started to function again. He wanted her help, but not the help she was qualified to give.
“I’m sorry.” She pulled her hands free. “It’s not up to me. You know that.”
“It could be.” He didn’t attempt to touch her again, but the intensity of his gaze nailed her to the spot. “The chief might listen to you if you told him I’m okay. That I’m ready to go back on the line.”
He was grasping at straws, but she
