Huck fetched the microwave mac and cheese out of the microwave, singeing his fingers. “Damn it.” Grabbing a kitchen towel, he secured the side of the carton and dumped the contents onto a plate. A fire crackled cozily across the living room, and he snagged a fork before heading to his well-worn sofa. Aeneas snored softly by the fire, content to be inside, where the wind couldn’t pierce the secured windows. It was well after midnight, but it had taken Huck so long to plow out his long driveway and shop area, and then shovel the walkway, that he’d missed dinner. He’d also shoveled the back deck and around the hot tub, knowing his aching muscles would need it in the morning.

Sitting, he extended his legs to the coffee table, noting his left sock had two holes. Shrugging, he stirred his dinner around to cool it, wondering about Dr. Rox and how she’d survived by herself for three weeks out in that freezing cabin. The woman must’ve been absolutely terrified to have lived that way.

His phone buzzed and he reached for it on the sofa table, setting his plate on the cushion. “Rivers.” He eyed the still-cooling dinner.

“Hi, Huck. I hope it’s okay I called.” A female voice came clearly over the line.

He looked up at the ceiling. Why hadn’t he glanced to see who was calling? “What do you want at midnight?” He and Rachel Raprenzi had stopped dating a long time ago.

“I knew you’d probably be up, as am I. Besides, is that any way to talk to your ex-fiancée?” she asked, both humor and charm in her voice.

He pulled the plate onto his lap and set his phone on speaker, putting it on the cold leather. “Not gonna ask again.” Then he dug into his dinner, instantly burning his tongue. Only pure stubbornness kept him from swearing out loud.

“I’m in Washington State and thought maybe we could get together for dinner or even just a drink. You know. Like friends.”

Friends. What was up with everyone wanting to be his friend lately? “No.”

“It’s Friday night and we’re both home alone. That’s sad.” Rachel sighed. “Come on. I said I was sorry. You were drifting away, and I knew it was probably over, and I was just trying to . . .”

“Exploit my downward spiral for your own gain?” He took another bite and once again wondered if he should learn how to actually cook.

“No. Trying to figure out what was happening, and I may have used the wrong approach.”