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Blake let her go, and when she turned, she found Blake on the ground, lying on his side with his knees tucked up to his stomach. Her hand covered her mouth, and she immediately went to her knees beside him, apologizing. “I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

Without warning, Blake moved, far too quick for her to react, and she found herself on her back, staring up at him.

“You were supposed to stomp on my ankle and run.”

Hannah blinked several times as his words sank in. She hadn’t actually hurt him?

Relieved, she started laughing, shaking her head up at him. “I thought I’d hurt you.”

“If you’d done that nut punch on me without a cup, my pain might have been real, but luckily, it took the brunt of that hit. Nice move, by the way.” Blake reached out a hand to help her up, a wide grin on his face. “But I’m a fantastic actor, huh?”

“Yes, you are,” she said, her other hand grabbing onto his bicep to steady herself. As Hannah gazed up into Blake’s hazel eyes, she was completely aware that they were alone in this room. That what they were doing could be considered incredibly intimate . . .

And he was pulling away from her, his hands circling her throat loosely, all business again. Hannah had to admit that she preferred the mischievous, laughing side of Blake more than Mr. Reserved, but since this was what she’d asked for, she wasn’t going to complain. At least he was here, helping her and spending time with her. She wanted to know more about Blake, to get to know him outside the diner, and so far, this was working out splendidly for that.

“Now, when you’re faced with an attacker who goes for your throat, you need to attack his eyes or even use your knee for his groin while ripping his ears down.”

A horrific image popped into her head at those words, and her stomach turned a bit. “Ripping his ears down? What is that?”

“You grab the top of his ears and pull downward as hard as you can. They’re sensitive and easily injured.”

“That’s pretty gross.”

“Hey, you gotta get over being squeamish, especially if it’s your life on the line,” he said.

He was right, but Hannah couldn’t imagine ripping off someone’s ears.

Hannah checked out Blake’s ears briefly, noticing for the first time that they stuck out slightly, an adorable imperfection to his otherwise handsome visage.

“Unfortunately, not everyone is going to have ears so easy to grab onto,” he said, practically reading her thoughts.

Hannah giggled and reached up, running her finger over the shell of his ear. “I think they’re cute.”

Blake’s hazel eyes twinkled. “No one has ever called my ears cute. My wife used to . . . ”

His mouth snapped shut, and his face became unreadable.

Hannah’s heart squeezed painfully. Blake had been married?

He’d never mentioned a wife before.

“Your wife used to what?”

Blake cleared his throat, avoiding her gaze as he went to the fridge in the corner. He pulled out two bottles of water, not answering right away. Finally, as he handed her the cold plastic, he spoke.

“She used to tell me they looked like catcher’s mitts, and I’d tell her it was why I did so much better in school; I caught every word.”

Hannah smiled. “That’s clever.” She hesitated briefly, then asked, “Where is she now?”

By the starkness of his expression, Hannah already knew. “Oh. I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks.”

“When did it happen?” She couldn’t stop the question, even if she’d wanted to. It was the first time Blake had ever given away something so personal about himself, and she wanted to know everything. Was she the reason for Blake’s black moods? She had never lost anyone close to her, but she could fully imagine a time when her parents would be gone. That was heart-wrenching enough, but to lose your spouse so young?

“Two years ago.”

Hannah opened her mouth to ask more questions but noticed the tense set of his shoulders; causing him more pain was unthinkable.