Raising The Stakes (Heartwarming Romance) by Karen Rock

RDER UP ! S TILL ! ”
    The kitchen bell dinged again and Vivie turned, meeting Rowdy’s stern gaze, or—as Maggie dubbed it—the “hairy eyeball.” Vivie hustled to the pass-through window and grabbed a meat loaf platter and a casserole of macaroni and cheese.
    “Sorry, Rowdy. Preoccupied I guess.”
    “I guess,” grumped her taciturn cook. He whipped back to the hissing grills, his pinky swathed in a massive amount of gauze.
    Vivie wove through the diner’s packed tables, her mind returning to Button. It stung that she hadn’t gotten more than a glimpse of the cub in over a week. Shoving food through a slot, listening to the bear scrabble against the spot, made her heart ache. Vivie wanted to be in there, spending time with Button, but how could she do it without incurring Liam’s “consequences”? She’d hoped to save a life. Was she ruining it instead? Button must be lonely and miserable.
    It should comfort her that at least Button was safer now that Liam had attached boards to the lower part of the chain-link. No more snake visits. But still, Vivie was beginning to wonder if safe was enough, despite Liam’s assurances.
    An involuntary smile crossed her face as she pictured him hauling lumber and nailing boards within an hour of catching the snake. He was a man who took care of things. Looked after his charges. Despite his stubborn insistence on following the letter of the law when it came to Button, she liked that Liam took his responsibilities seriously. He had good intentions. Just wrong instincts.
    She wove through the crowded restaurant and overheard snatches of excited conversation about this weekend’s Woodsman Lumberjack Festival. Sam and Randy Trudeau, the area’s most renowned trackers and hunters, would be giving workshops alongside a famous outdoor skillet cook and an author autographing his bestselling travel memoir.
    Most anticipated of all were the wood-carving and lumberjack competitions.
    “I hope they have one of those big wooden bears,” said a young boy. He reached his hands overhead and clawed at the air, roaring. At his father’s raised eyebrow, the kid subsided and nodded his thanks as Vivie set his food on the table. “I want to learn to carve one someday. Can I have a chain saw?”
    His father returned Vivie’s smile, then picked up his fork when she set down his meat loaf. “Better leave that to the experts, champ.” The dad ruffled his son’s hair then squirted ketchup on the boy’s plate.
    “Is this your first time going to the festival?” Vivie asked as she grabbed their bread basket.
    The boy’s head bobbed. When he set down his milk, a white film coated his upper lip. “Mom never liked to go camping. But now we’re divorced, so Dad says we can come whenever we want.”
    Vivie’s gaze flicked to the man, then dropped. She wished she hadn’t glimpsed the pain in his eyes.
    “The lumberjacks will be competing in greased pole-climbing and log-throwing competitions,” Vivie babbled to fill up the awkward silence. “Plus, fly fishermen will take you out on Tupper Lake and teach you their tricks if you’re interested.”
    The kid bounced in his seat. “Cool. I wish it started today.”
    “I don’t like waiting, either. Have fun, you two.” She left the pair, reminded, in a way, of her own childhood. How often had she and her mother eaten in diners when they’d moved? Too many times to count. In some ways, it’d come to feel like a refuge. A temporary haven they’d fled to when another of her mother’s disastrous marriages fell apart.
    Fingers snapped in front of her nose. “Yoo-hoo. Orders to take, water glasses to fill.” Maggie’s uptilted nose wrinkled as she studied Vivie. “Sorry I had to call you in today.”
    Vivie shook her head. “Margaret’s still on maternity and Lauren called in sick. Goes with the territory of owning a diner.” She spotted another group at the front door and hustled over to seat them.
    Settling them in a booth, she