Page 39 of Finding His Fox

“Can I help?” Nate asked.

“Don’t worry about a thing. You’re my guest. Let me pamper you,” I said. Nate flushed at that.

“Just your guest?” Nate asked.

I wasn’t sure what to call us yet. Nate held no particular love for Fox Haven, and I understood his reasons.

This place had too many terrible memories for him, not just what happened to us as kids, but Nate also had to deal with his father’s suicide over the years.

Asking him to stay, to consider the prospect of us, seemed like I was asking for too much. Nate had to make that decision for himself, but it wouldn’t hurt if I gave him a little push in the right direction.

After making up the bed and ensuring my room was clean, I headed to the kitchen to prep dinner.

I didn’t bother making anything fancy. I simply heated some leftover stew on the stove. Dinner from the night before. It would go well with rice, so I made some as well.

By the time we sat down to eat, Nate almost looked like his usual self.

“How’s Max?” I asked Nate.

“Fed and watered. Good thing I brought extra cat food with me. He’s in his carrier, sleeping. Max demanded some of my time, so I played with him a little,” Nate admitted.

“That’s sweet of you. I know how important he is to you,” I said.

Nate eyed me for a moment. “You really mean that, don’t you? Some people would make fun of me for spending so much time with my cat.”

“He’s your friend, just like Missy was,” I said. “More than that, he’s part of the family, like Rory and Ian.”

Nate seemed surprised by my answer, but he nodded. He looked at the table, coughed when his stomach let out a rumble.

“Everything looks and smells good. How did you make this stew so fast?”

“Leftovers from last night. I hope you don’t mind,” I said.

“Not at all. Let’s eat. I’m curious about your cooking,” Nate said, giving me a wink.

I grinned and snatched his bowl, serving him some stew. Nate immediately dove for the plate of rice.

As we ate, we talked about mundane topics. Nate told me about the extra repairs he had planned for the house and asked me a few questions about my daily life.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Nate asked.

“I make custom furniture. Rocking chairs mostly. I have a shed in the back that doubles as my workshop,” I said, pleased Nate had taken an interest in my personal life.

Nate widened his eyes. “Really? I’d like to see you at work sometime.”

“You can come over any time you want,” I said.

Nate gave me a thoughtful look. “Ian once told me you’re a private individual. That you usually keep your distance from most folks, including your pack mates.”

Nate made an excellent point there. I wasn’t a fan of most people, save for a few exceptions like Owen, James, and some of the kids in the pack. Now, I added Nate to that growing list.

“You’re not most people,” I pointed out. “I enjoy spending time with you.”

I could tell my answer pleased Nate a great deal, because his entire face lit up. Since we were in the sharing mood, I decided to risk asking an important question.

“Nate, how long are you planning on staying in Fox Haven?”

“Well, I still need more pictures. For Max,” Nate quickly explained.