Deep River Promise Read online

  “It could,” Damon said, reflecting on it. “Could even tie in with Gwen’s eco-lodge idea too.”

  They kicked around some more ideas after that and made some adjustments to the short list, then Hope came in with a couple of bags of treats from April’s, along with some strong coffees. She had a couple of her own opinions about the shortlist and made sure they were noted.

  Damon ended up in a good-natured argument with her which both of them enjoyed thoroughly, and that involved rejigging the short list yet again, much to Astrid’s irritation. Then Hope mentioned that Clare at the B&B had had a call from some stranger interested in buying her out, which Clare had naturally refused. But it was a reminder of what they were trying to do and what they were up against.

  “They’re not going to stop, are they?” Astrid’s expression was grim. “They’re going to keep calling, keep bugging us until someone gives in.”

  Damon almost reached across the table to take her hand and hold it in his as a reassurance, because he didn’t like the expression on her face. Her little safe haven for herself and her son was being threatened, so she was bound to find that worrying.

  But he couldn’t touch her without giving away their affair and he didn’t want to start any gossip or make things difficult for her. So he kept his hands to himself.

  Yet he was surprised at the anger burning inside him. On her behalf and Connor’s and, surprisingly, for the inhabitants of Deep River too. Anger at the oil company and what they were doing and what they thought they could get away with.

  More feelings he shouldn’t be having. What the hell was wrong with him?

  You should stay. Help them fight. Cal wanted you to look after Connor, after all.

  No, he’d already made the decision that he couldn’t. Besides, Astrid and Connor weren’t alone. They had Silas and Zeke and Mal and Hope. And everyone else in the town.

  “Have we finished?” he asked, restless all of a sudden.

  “Why?” Silas asked in surprise. “Somewhere you need to be?”

  What could he say? That the thoughts in his head were driving him crazy and he needed to get out, get some air? Yeah, not so much.

  “I have to get my stuff ready,” he said shortly. “I’ll be heading out tomorrow. Anyway, we have a short list now and Astrid will get a town meeting on the schedule. Is there anything else?”

  “No, probably not.” Silas glanced at Hope. “You want me to go talk to Clare? Get some idea about what they’re offering her?”

  “Yeah, sounds like a plan.” She pushed herself away from the counter where she’d been standing. “I’ll come with you.”

  After the two of them had gone, Astrid, who was still sitting at the table, raised a brow. “You think they did that on purpose?”

  “What? Leave us alone together?” He grinned. “Possibly. Though Silas’s already warned me off you.”

  “Really?” She didn’t look pleased with the idea as she started to gather the papers back into her folder. “Why am I his business? It’s got nothing to do with him.”

  “No, but it not being his business has never stopped Silas.”

  “True.” Astrid rose, clutching her folder. She gave him a glance from beneath her golden lashes. “Since you’re leaving tomorrow and your room’s just up the stairs, I wondered if you wanted to…say goodbye properly.”

  The look she gave him would have set fire to a stone and he wouldn’t have been a man if he hadn’t gotten instantly hard.

  There was no reason not to.

  They hadn’t had a chance to talk to each other since last night and he’d been assuming that, again, the night had been a one-off. Another of the those rare moments to hold on to, to take with him when he left, and he’d thought Astrid felt the same.

  Except it was clear that she didn’t.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” He didn’t know why he was asking her when he very much wanted to take her up on the offer. “It’s broad daylight. People might notice us disappearing into my room together.”

  “No, they won’t.” Her mouth curved in a sensual, sweet smile. “There’s no one else staying in the Moose, and no one’s going to notice us leaving Hope and Silas’s place.”

  He wanted to, and very badly. And he didn’t understand where his reluctance was coming from…

  No, he did know. Last night he’d held her in his arms and she’d looked at him with stars in her eyes, and those same stars were in her eyes now, bright and glittering.

  She felt something for him.

  It had happened so fast, him and the pretty mayor. Too fast. And now they’d gone beyond one pleasant moment, and ‘pleasant’ had become something more, something deeper.

  It couldn’t.

  “Astrid,” he said gently, “this is not—”

  “I know what it’s not. Look, if one night was enough for you, then I understand. I just thought…well…”

  Of course she’d thought that. She had no reason not to, especially as he hadn’t given her one. But…regret filled him.

  He couldn’t sleep with her again, even though she wanted it and so did he—quite desperately. Even though refusing her would hurt her. He wasn’t going to mess around with her feelings just because his body wanted hers; that would make him no better than that asshole Aiden and he couldn’t stand that.

  “It’s not that it was enough for me.” He let her see what was in his eyes. “It wasn’t. But last night…it was more than good, Astrid. It was special. And I don’t think special is what either of us want.”

  Her mouth opened, then closed. Then she looked away. “No. I suppose not.”

  Disappointment laced her voice, and it caught at him in ways he wasn’t expecting. He wasn’t supposed to care about this. And yet he was, and it shouldn’t be happening.

  Living a surface life meant not caring too deeply, or at least not so deeply that it caused pain, yet he could feel her disappointment echoing in his own heart. Making him ache.

  It was the phantom pain of an organ long dead, though. Her feelings might be engaged, but his weren’t, and that was why he needed to end this and fast. Disappointment he could recover from, but anything else took far longer, and he didn’t want to let it get to that stage.

  “Don’t make this into something it’s not, Ms. Mayor,” he said quietly.

  Her jaw tightened. “I only asked if you wanted to go upstairs. How is that making it into something it isn’t?”

  “The look on your face when I said no.”

  “It was only a question.” Her voice had cooled, the snow queen returning. “If you don’t want to, you don’t want to.”

  He shouldn’t keep trying to explain himself, shouldn’t turn this into a big deal. Yet he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to ease it for her. Her history of men rejecting her had been an awful one, and he didn’t want to be just another in a long line of assholes.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Astrid. I just think this will be easier on both of us if we end it now.”

  Her beautiful gray eyes turned chilly. “You’re assuming it’s something and it isn’t. It’s just sex.” The dismissal in her tone might have worked if she hadn’t glanced away again, as if she couldn’t meet his gaze. “Anyway, it’s not like I don’t have anything better to do.”

  “Astrid,” he began.

  “It’s fine,” she said before he could continue. “I’ll see you around, Damon.”

  Then she turned and left him standing there.

  * * *

  Much later that afternoon, Astrid stood in the little Deep River library reshelving books when Connor came in. He was frowning, though not in an angry way, more as if he had a lot to think about.

  She hadn’t had a chance to talk to him today about how his conversation with Damon had gone or about school, since in typical teenage fashion he hadn’t gotten out of bed u
ntil noon. By which time she’d been talking to Mal about some issues with the food co-op, and then she’d had that meeting with Silas and Damon.

  Putting the armful of books she was carrying down on the library cart, she opened her mouth to speak, but he got in first.

  “Mom,” he said, still frowning, “I think I agree with Damon. I like the cruise ship option that Sandy was talking about with him. We should definitely be investigating that, and then we really need to be talking to Harry about—”

  “Connor,” Astrid interrupted, raising her hands in a stop motion. “Slow down. What’s all this about?”

  Connor came over to the library cart and poked at the books on it. “Damon came to see me and told me about the meeting you had with him and Silas.” He glanced up at her. “He told you about our deal last night, right?”

  Astrid’s heart gave a small throb. Damon had been as good as his word. He’d included Connor in the plans for Deep River.

  Did you doubt that he would?

  Maybe. Just a little bit. But now the last shred of her doubt had gone.

  “Oh,” she said, trying to disguise the husk in her voice. “Yes, that’s right. He did.”

  “So this deal.” Connor idly kicked at one of the cart’s big rubber wheels. “I’d go to school and he’d tell me what was going on with the oil stuff. And he’d tell Silas and whoever if I had any concerns.”

  This was important to Connor, she could see it in the earnest gleam in his blue eyes. It mattered that Damon had included him and that his opinions were being taken seriously. It was all about respect. And that was something that Aiden, for all that he’d been good to Connor, hadn’t had.

  Aiden wouldn’t have respected Connor in this way, as an individual. No, as Damon had pointed out, Aiden would have viewed Connor as his property. And if he hadn’t respected her—and he hadn’t—then he certainly wouldn’t have respected her son.

  “You absolutely did the right thing…”

  Damon had been so sure the night before; there had been no doubt in him, though a piece of her had still wondered. Yet it came to her, all of a sudden, that she didn’t think that now. Looking at Connor, at his serious, earnest face, at the way he carried himself, not as if he were carrying the whole burden himself but as if he’d been given a part of it and that part was an honor…

  Yes, she had done the right thing taking him away from Aiden and bringing him here to Deep River. To a place where he was safe and where he’d learned responsibility, to be part of a community, a help and a support to others.

  One day, he’d make a great mayor.

  “Mom?” Connor’s frown deepened. “Are you okay?”

  Astrid realized that her eyes were full of tears.

  She blinked fiercely and smiled. “I’m fine. I’m just…so pleased you’re going to keep going to school.”

  Connor inspected her. “You must be very pleased if you’re crying about it.”

  “I’m sorry.” The words burst out of her before she could stop them. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about your father. You were so upset when I took you away from Aiden and I was afraid to trust Caleb with you. I didn’t want him to break your heart or let you down the way he did me. And I—”

  “Mom,” Connor interrupted gently. “It’s fine.” And then much to her shock, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. He was big, her son, and getting broad, and though he could do with a shower, for a minute she closed her eyes and hugged him back, remembering the small, wriggly boy he’d once been. Who’d given her so much joy at a time when there wasn’t much of it to be had.

  He’d never let her down, this boy of hers. In a lifetime of people who had, he’d never done so.

  “I’m sorry too,” he said after a second, his voice muffled near the side of her ear. “I shouldn’t have liked Aiden so much. I should have seen how horrible he was to you and I didn’t.”

  “You don’t need to apologize for that, Con. You were a kid and you wanted a dad.” She squeezed him tight, then let him go and stood back. “Is that what all this protective stuff is about? About me and Aiden?”

  He shrugged, stuck his hands in his pockets, and looked at the floor. For all that he could be uncannily perceptive about certain things, he was also still a teenage boy and uncomfortable about feelings.

  “Yeah,” he said slowly. “Damon said it wasn’t my fault. That it was Aiden’s.”

  A little rush of grief hit her. Of course. How could she not have seen that?

  “Your fault for what?” she asked thickly.

  “My fault for…liking him, I guess. For wanting to stay. I didn’t know he hurt you till after.”

  She didn’t want to cry yet again, so she looked at the floor too, emotion sitting like a stone in her chest. “I know you didn’t. I didn’t want you to know. But…” Blinking hard, she looked at him. “Damon’s right. None of that was your fault. None of it. Understand?”

  Her son’s blue gaze met hers. Slowly, he nodded.

  “It was Aiden’s,” she went on, the truth of it settling inside her as she spoke and it wasn’t just intellectual this time. She felt it too, heavy and sure. “He didn’t respect us. And he sure as hell didn’t care about us. And getting you away from him was the best choice I ever made.”

  There was relief in Connor’s expression and then he smiled. “You’re fierce when you’re angry, Mom.”

  The love she had for her son nearly strangled her, and she wanted to give him another big hug, squeeze him tight. But even one hug was rare for him and she didn’t want to push it.

  “Yes, and don’t you forget it.”

  His gaze turned very direct all of a sudden. “Damon’s a good guy. I like him.”

  The abrupt change of subject triggered a memory.

  Damon, who’d stood there in Hope’s sunny kitchen, tall and powerful, the gold strands in his dark hair gleaming, looking at her with hunger in his eyes at the same time he told her it wasn’t a good idea. That she shouldn’t make this something it wasn’t.

  She’d been hurt; she couldn’t deny it. The rejection had made her feel like she had over the years with various different people in her life, asking for what she wanted only to be shot down. Only to be denied and refused or not to be listened to. And she’d done what she’d always done in those situations: she’d hidden her hurt, hadn’t made it a big deal, turned and walked away.

  And it wasn’t a big deal, was it? It was only sex. And Damon was an amazing man, sure, but he would be leaving tomorrow. So maybe it was for the best that they left it at one night.

  He’d been right, though: last night had been special.

  “Yes, he is,” Astrid said, turning away and direction her attention to the cart full of books. “But he’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

  “I know. Actually…” Connor paused and took a breath. “I think he should stay.”

  Astrid looked up at him in surprise. “What?”

  Connor’s expression was as serious as she’d ever seen it. “He should stay.”

  “He can’t, Con. His mother is sick and he needs to be with her.”

  “I know that. But…” Connor shifted on his feet. “I think he needs us.”

  For a second, Astrid could only stand there and stare at her son. “What makes you say that?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I dunno. He had a daughter who died, and when he told me, he had this look on his face…” Connor shook his head. “It was lonely. And he doesn’t have a dad, he’s only got his mom. Not that that’s a bad thing, but…”

  “A boy needs a man, right?”

  Connor looked at her solemnly. “Yeah.”

  And a man needs a boy.

  That might well have been true, but she remembered Damon’s face this afternoon as Silas had suggested that he stay and that he bring his mother here too. His features had hardened and i
t had been clear he hadn’t liked that idea one bit, which made Connor’s observation wishful thinking at best.

  That thought made her heart ache.

  “He can’t stay, Con.” She didn’t hide the regret in her voice, though it was only for her son’s sake. Definitely not for her own. “There’s better healthcare in LA than there is up here, and if she’s sick, that’s what she’s going to need.”

  But there was a determined look on her son’s face, the same kind of look he’d had when he’d told her that he was giving up school to keep an eye on the town. The same kind of look he always got when he had a plan about something.

  “Connor,” she said warningly.

  “What?” His expression was the very essence of innocence. “You like him too, don’t you?”

  Heat rose suddenly in her cheeks and she gritted her teeth, trying to stop it through sheer force of will. “Oh? And what makes you say that?” She tried for cool.

  “Your face when you opened the door after we came home.”

  Oh. Hell.

  “He’s a nice guy, like you said.” She tried to sound exasperated and not as embarrassed as all get out. How annoying. The kid was fifteen. He shouldn’t be the one making his parent uncomfortable, surely? “What are you implying?”

  “Oh, nothing.” Connor grinned suddenly and started to back away toward the exit. “Right. Gotta go see someone about…uh…something.”

  The door banged shut behind him.

  What was he up to? Probably something that would end up backfiring.

  She went after him, going to the door and pulling it open, but when she stepped out onto the library’s porch, the road toward the town was empty. Connor had disappeared.

  Astrid muttered a curse under her breath, turned, and went back inside. Whatever it was he was going to do, she’d no doubt find out eventually. And likely in the worst possible way, since that was how it went with kids.

  Moving back over to the library cart, she picked up the stack of books and took them over to the shelves, slotting each book back in its place on the shelf as her thoughts turned to her son and that look he’d given her when he’d mentioned Damon.