Shiver(26)

He gave her a clever smile. “It’s my secret recipe.” He glanced over at Aidan, and his face brightened even more.

A twinge of uneasiness embedded itself in Raven’s heart.

Fox brought the plate over to Aidan. “How are you feeling, Mr. Harte?”

“Much better, thanks. And call me Aidan.”

Fox beamed. “Sure, Aidan.” He offered up the plate. “Try one of my fries.”

Aidan took a fry and bit into it, his eyes widening. “These are amazing.”

“Uncle Pike’s going to put them on the menu and call ‘em Fox’s Fabulous French Fries.” He set the plate on the table and claimed a chair.

Raven placed the Reuben in front of Aidan, along with a napkin and silverware. “Thanks.” He glanced up at her with gratitude. “This looks great.”

“You’re making Reubens?” Fox asked. “Can I have one?” He turned to Aidan. “Aren’t they the best sandwiches ever?”

Aidan laughed. “I’ve always thought so.” He took a bite and closed his eyes. “Nobody makes a Reuben like Fiona. At least that’s what I’ve always thought, until now.” He gazed at Raven. “Very good.”

Raven felt herself blush and turned away, a lump rising in her throat at the domestic scene. This was the way things should have been. She started another sandwich and listened to Fox fill them both in on the great day he’d had. Once school had gotten out, he’d trumped his friend Grand in a snowball fight, taken care of his dogs—all eight of them—then filled Aidan in on his plans to run his dogs in the Fur Rendezvous and then the Yukon Quest just as soon as he was old enough. And then, once he’d gotten a few wins under his belt, he planned to race in the Iditarod.

Raven added ketchup and mustard to the table and the kettle in case Aidan wanted to refill his cup. Once Fox’s sandwich was done, she cut it diagonally and placed it in front of her son.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Aidan asked her.

She was too melancholy to eat. She went to shake her head, but Fox added, “Come on, Mom.”

Aidan, she could turn down, but not Fox and his sweet smile. She picked up a plate and took a seat, grabbing a fry. She wasn’t hungry, but they were good. She could get down a few.

“Here,” Aidan placed half of his sandwich on her plate. “I’m hungry, but my stomach doesn’t want to hold much after going without the last few days.”

She looked down at the sandwich, and tears filled her eyes. She rapidly blinked them back and took a deep breath. Why did he have to be kind to her? She didn’t want him to be kind. She wanted him to leave.

Raven had made choices that had left her a single parent. Those choices were based on good reasons. Reasons she still believed in. She picked up the sandwich and bit into it, even though she didn’t want it. She chewed and swallowed, went through the motions as her son continued to entertain them with his antics.

She prayed the roads would be clear tomorrow and they could move Aidan out. She didn’t want any more interactions between Fox and Aidan. Didn’t want them to become close.

Aidan would break her son’s heart too.





CHAPTER SEVEN

“All right, time for bed, young man,” Raven said, standing from the table. It was past time to call this ‘family dinner’ over. She bent down and kissed Fox on the forehead.

“M-o-m.” He gave her the look that said he wasn’t a little boy anymore, and please don’t kiss him in front of the man he was trying to impress.

Raven knew all of this, even understood it, but she was his mother and if she wanted to kiss her son on the forehead when he was sixty, she’d do it. “Come on. You have school in the morning.”

“Thirty minutes more?” he pleaded, his large dark eyes framed with long fluttering lashes appealing to her to give in. He must have picked that look up from Chickadee.

“Nope. Besides, it’s time for Mr. Harte to go to bed too.” She stared at Aidan and he wisely nodded.

“Okay.” Fox got to his feet and shuffled toward the back door, grabbing his parka off the hook where it hung among the others. “Am I spending the night with Uncle Lynx or at our place?” He slipped into the coat but failed to zip it up.

Poor guy had been batted around from relative to relative while his mother had been saddled with taking care of Aidan. “Our place. I’ll be there as soon as I get Mr. Harte settled. Remember to brush your teeth,” she hollered as he opened the door and walked through it, biting back the words to zip up his coat as the cold air flooded into the room.

“I’m almost twelve,” he hollered back. “I can remember to brush my own teeth.” He let the door slam behind him. She wondered, briefly, how long it took for kids to learn to shut a door instead of slamming one.