Chapter 11 #2
April’s lips twitched as if she were re-living the same memory as Shane. The night he took her for a walk under the full moon, showing off his knowledge of the woods until he realized that what she wanted was to get him alone and away from the house for a makeout session.
“I sure do,” she said. “Shane taught me years ago, when we were teenagers.” She looked at him through her lashes. “He has all sorts of skills once you get him out into the wilderness.”
This woman is killing me.
“Cool! Can you teach me some survival stuff in the wilderness?”
“Depends,” Shane said, hiding his grin behind a napkin. “You want Ranger skills or basic ‘don’t-get-eaten’ skills?”
“Both!” Kevin shot upright in his chair. “All of it!”
Shane leaned back, thinking it through. “Weather’s supposed to be perfect tomorrow. We could take Pete up to Eldorado Canyon, hike a bit. Good place to burn off some energy before school.”
At the name, old images tugged at him—rocky trails winding through wildflowers, sandstone cliffs turned golden in the sunlight.
He and his brothers-from-other-mothers had learned half their boyhood courage up there playing soldier, tracking, daring each other to climb higher, run faster, laugh louder.
He could still hear Elias’s voice echoing off the canyon walls, calling Last one up buys sodas!
April’s eyes softened, catching whatever memory crossed his face. Then she gave Kevin The Mom look—half amusement, half warning. “I have to open Riversong in the morning and you haven’t touched your homework.”
“But Mom, it’s the last week of school. It doesn’t matter.”
“Nope, we had a deal. And, I had to twist Principal Pirogue’s arm to give you time served with the suspension. I’m not having you go back to school without your homework. Do you know how bad that would look?”
Kevin shrugged. “I don’t care. They all hate me anyway.”
April cringed. “They don’t hate you.”
“Yeah, they do, Mom.” Kevin looked to Shane for backup. “Whenever something goes missing in the classroom, I get blamed. If a whole group of us is laughing too loud in the hallway, I’m the only one who gets time out. No one else does. No one else ever gets in trouble.”
“That’s not true, Kevin.” April’s tone indicated otherwise. She’d gone from relaxed and happy to defeated in a matter of minutes. Shane’s heart went out to her. At the same time, he wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t want to override her. Kevin wasn’t his son.
As much as he feels like my son.
“You know it’s true, Mom.”
April put her napkin down beside her plate. “We’ve talked about how important it is to get good grades. It doesn’t matter what they think. You aren’t doing homework for them, but for you.”
“Your mom’s right, Bud. Doing your homework builds discipline. Discipline is the foundation of success.”
Kevin shifted his attention to Shane. “Did they teach you that in Ranger school?”
“SWCC school, not Ranger,” Shane said, smiling softly. “And it was a lesson I already knew.” He just didn’t want to tell Kevin how his father was the first to beat that lesson into him. “I learned it from my brothers growing up, when we’d play soldier in the mountains.”
“You mean your friends? All the guys?”
“Yup. My brothers. Some people are family by blood. Others are family here.” Shane covered his heart, “and they are just as important, if not more so.”
Kevin nodded solemnly.
“So, maybe if you get your homework done in the morning like you promised your mom, we could all go hiking tomorrow afternoon.” He raised his eyes to April. “But only if it’s all right with you.”
“Afternoon then,” she conceded, pointing her fork at Kevin. “You set yourself up at a table where I can see you and finish your homework by noon, we’ll go. But it’s all up to you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kevin saluted.
Shane hid a smile. Their conversation tightened something pleasant in his chest.
They finished dinner slowly, Kevin now talking about the animals he hoped to see on the trails, April laughing easier than he’d heard in weeks.
When she stood to clear plates, Shane reached for one too, brushing her fingers.
He wanted to tell her how good this felt, how right. But Kevin was right there.
“Honey, why don’t you go brush your teeth and get ready for bed? We need to be at Riversong by seven because I want to make sure the espresso machine’s going to behave itself. “And knowing you, it’ll take a while to fall asleep.” She ruffled his hair.
Kevin nodded. “Yeah, okay. Hey, Peetie. Heel, boy.”
Pete stood up and they both took off at a dead run down the hall to the bathroom.
“Slow down, you’ll slip on the wood…floor…oh never mind.” April laughed lightly as she rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“He’s a good kid, April.”
“Yeah. He is.” The love in her eyes was genuine, but shadowed by something Shane couldn’t read.
“Let me help with the dishes. Then I’ll give you an update on Vegas after he’s in bed.”
April shook her head lightly as if clearing it and turned to him. “Thank you again.”
He shrugged. “It’s just a couple of dishes.” He started toward the sink but she laid her hand on his arm. Her gentle touch stopped him as effectively as a tank.
“You know it’s more than that.” She took the dish out of his hand and brushed past him to the sink.
He watched her walk, drawn to the sway of her hips and had to clench his jaw as heat coursed through him.
If he wasn’t careful, he’d end up bending her over the counter, his hand fisted in her hair, kissing the side of her neck, which used to drive her insane.
Now he needed to know if it was still true.
He stepped around the table as she turned on the sink until he was standing directly behind her.
“At least let me dry,” he said as he craned his neck around to the side of her head, his lips inches from her ear. The smell of her lilac soap filled his senses. April grinned and…was that a shiver?
Shane reached past her, brushing her arm, and picked up a dishtowel. She rinsed the first dish and he took it out of her hand, then wiped it dry and set it on the counter. They worked together in silence, the crickets outside serenading them.
They fell into an easy rhythm—April washing, Shane drying, their bodies close enough that every movement felt deliberate.
The back of her hand brushed his forearm as she passed him a plate.
His shoulder grazed hers when he reached for the dish rack.
Each touch sent little sparks racing under Shane's skin.
"You know," April said quietly, not looking at him, "I used to imagine this sometimes. In Vegas, when things got bad. I'd picture doing something normal, like washing dishes,” she laughed, the sound brittle at the edges, "only it was with someone who gave a damn."
Shane set down the plate he'd been drying. "April—"
"I’m done brushing my teeth!" Kevin's voice rang out from down the hall, followed by the thunder of running feet.
They stepped apart like teenagers caught necking. Shane clutched the dish towel like it was a tactical shield. April turned off the water, cheeks flushed pink. They looked at each other and grinned.
Kevin skidded into the kitchen in his Incredible Hulk pajamas. Pete trotted behind him, looking amused.
"That’s great, sweetie,” April said, her voice slightly breathless. “Do you need me to tuck you in?”
“No.” Kevin looked at Shane. “When I was a little kid, I used to get tucked in. I just came out here to say good night.”
April nodded, amused. “At least tell me you aren’t too old now for a goodnight hug?”
Kevin tilted his head side to side and rolled his eyes. He hugged his mom, and then surprised Shane with a fierce hug. “Good night, bud. See you in the morning.”
"Yeah, see ya. Mom, can I read for a little bit before lights out?"
April glanced at the clock. "Twenty minutes. Then it's lights out for real, mister."
"Yes, ma'am!" Kevin saluted—surprisingly sharp for an eight-year-old—and took off down the hall again. Pete followed at a more dignified pace, pausing at the hallway entrance to look back at Shane as if to say, I've got first watch.