She had never tried to assert a parental status with him. On the day she had married Roger, Tony had asked if he should start calling her ‘Mom’. �...�No,’ Katie had told him, ‘Not unless you really want to. You have a mother. She’s just divorced from your father, not dead. You’ve called me Katie up until now. There’s no reason for that to change.’ Tony had looked relieved and, from that day on, their relationship had been more like housemates than step-mother and step-son. They had similar senses. Lifting it to her nose, she could smell him on it, beautiful, earthy, infused male spice in one torn cloth. It was all she could do to stop inhaling him. ‘Ragnar. I know your there. I know you can hear me.’ She spoke softly to the quiet wood. Moving past the oaks, putting the torn cloth in her apron pocket, she was on the ground before she could scream in shock. A heavy weight by her side, strong legs over hers, and a beautiful mouth melting away her anger. By Freya, he had forgotten how. More

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