Shiver(44)

Fox beamed up at him with admiration. Aidan stepped back. He couldn’t remember a time someone had looked at him that way. The burning ache in his chest flamed hotter.

“Don’t forget our ride,” Fox said, keeping his voice low.

“I won’t,” Aidan answered, keeping his voice equally quiet. Raven would probably have objected. Case in point, her showing up to presumably give him a ride back to the lodge, when he knew it was to bring a stop to their time together.

He limped over to the Suburban and got in. Raven told Fox she’d be right back. Within minutes she had Aidan back at the lodge. She put the SUV in park and turned to him. “I thought about what you said. So I grabbed my dad’s old gun. I’ll have Fox draw me a map tonight, and I’ll pick you up in the morning after he heads to school.”

“Thank you, Raven.” He wanted to reach out to her. Trail his fingers down her arm, caress her face, run his fingers through her raven hair.

She must have read what was in his expression, for she swallowed and looked away. “Better safe than sorry, right?”



Raven watched Aidan struggle on his way into the lodge and resisted the urge to jump out and help him. Instead, she put the Suburban in reverse and backed out, heading for home. She’d left Fox and Aidan alone as long as she’d dared. Long enough to hopefully not bring up any questions on why she was so overprotective, but short enough that no attachments would develop.

While she’d sat in her mother’s kitchen and stewed, she’d also rethought the situation at Earl Harte’s place. If Aidan was that freaked out about someone messing with his car, she shouldn’t discount it simply because she didn’t want to believe anything bad was happening in her small town. She’d discounted the situation between Earl and her father when she’d known something wasn’t right. She’d caught Earl’s evil glare. Had felt nothing good in the man. Knew he was capable of doing something bad if provoked. Any man who could shoot his son’s dog in front of him was a man to be wary of. She’d known all this, and still, she hadn’t acted on the instincts screaming at her during the land dispute, and because of that, her dad had died.

She’d never disregard those voices again. Not when the price was so steep.





CHAPTER ELEVEN

Raven walked into the lodge early the next morning. Ever since Aidan had returned, she hadn’t had a restful night’s sleep. She was plagued with memories of the past. The way he’d made her feel, the closeness she’d felt when he held her within his arms.

It was hard being a single parent, a self-employed artist always juggling with financial responsibilities. But that was the life she’d chosen. To dream of what could have been was a waste of time and energy. Instead of fighting the dreams, she’d forgone the sleep and spent the time in her studio. Unfortunately that left her tired and cranky. She wouldn’t be able to sustain this schedule for long before she crashed. The faster she could get Aidan out to his father’s homestead, the faster she might be able to get him off her mind and have a good night’s sleep. The more time she spent with him, the more she wanted to touch him, have him touch her. Forget the past.

But she couldn’t forget the past. She couldn’t dishonor her father’s memory that way.

She found Aidan in the lodge’s restaurant, saddled up to the bar, a cup of coffee cradled in his hands, a half-finished plate of pancakes and sausages in front of him. His hair fell over his forehead and brushed the collar of his soft blue flannel shirt. The medical boot looked heavy and uncomfortable clamped to his jean-clad leg. She hoped he was feeling better. He’d never told her what the doctor had said. She should have handled that situation better when they’d been in town and not let her feelings sour her mood.

“Are you ready?” she asked, coming up alongside him.

“Morning,” he greeted. He studied her and frowned. “Didn’t you get any sleep?”

Now why did he have to seem so concerned? It weakened her resolve to keep her distance. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Sit, have a cup of coffee. Have you eaten?” He continued to regard her with a troubled, concerned look.

“Uh…”

“Pike,” he hollered at her uncle. “Raven needs breakfast.”

Pike gazed at her from the cutout in the kitchen. “What have I taught you, girl?”

“Most important meal of the day,” she repeated the words her uncle had always stressed.

He grunted. “Pull up a stool.”

“Not too much.” She was too exhausted to be hungry.