Come Home to Deep River Read online

  “Given the timing, it’s hard not to think that. The Moose isn’t exactly hot property. Hell, nothing in this town is.”

  Damon muttered a curse. “Great. So anyone else been called, do you think?”

  “Don’t know. And we won’t until we have this town meeting, which we’re hoping to have tomorrow night.” He paused. “I have a feeling it’s not going to be straightforward.”

  “Yeah, well, nothing with money ever is.” Damon sounded annoyed.

  Hell, Si couldn’t blame him. The situation wasn’t ever going to be without its complications, but it was turning out to have a few extra that he hadn’t been anticipating. Which was irritating, since he liked to anticipate issues and plan for them, rather than being taken by surprise. And the call Hope’s mother had received definitely counted as a surprise. An unpleasant one.

  “No, it’s not,” Si said. “And if this person wanting the lease isn’t on the level, then I’m going to have to figure out how he found out about the oil and who he’s associated with.”

  “You mean your friend will.” Damon’s voice was uninflected. Very uninflected. “Because you won’t be there. You’ll be back in Juneau, meeting some guys who might be interested in buying out my share of the business, leaving me to get back to LA.”

  The uneasy feeling in Si’s gut twisted tighter. Damon wasn’t wrong. Going to the meeting, then heading back to Juneau was exactly what he should be doing. And yet…why did he feel like that would be a mistake?

  You really want to leave Hope to deal with all of this?

  Well, sure he did, didn’t he? Hope was more than capable of handling it. Especially with the help of that sharp and icy mayor. They didn’t need him, little more than an outsider these days, getting involved in decisions for a town he didn’t live in and wasn’t going to return to.

  The late-afternoon sun was shining directly on him, the warmth of it gentle on his skin, instilling a sense of well-being. And since he led a life where physical discomfort was usual, he’d learned to enjoy the small pleasures.

  And it hit him hard all of a sudden that this was one of those pleasures—sitting in the sun, with the river in front of him and the familiarity of the mountains around him. He felt…almost at home in a way he didn’t in Juneau.

  Can’t escape this place and you know it.

  “Yeah, I hear you,” he said to Damon and to the voice in his head. Because he couldn’t get involved in Deep River’s issues. You couldn’t ever go back, right?

  Besides, he’d barely had a chance to get settled in Juneau before Cal had died. And once all this crap from Cal’s will had been dealt with, he could concentrate on getting Wild Alaska up and running properly. Grow the business. Be his own man in a way he couldn’t be in Deep River, with the past dogging his heels and all the expectations that came along with it.

  That had been one of the great things about the army. He’d been just a cog in the military machine and no one was looking at him. No one had expectations of him. He was only a soldier, not the son of a drunk whose death had also caused the death of someone beloved in the town.

  “Good,” Damon said, satisfied. “Can you give me an ETA on when you’re coming back, then? I really have got some guys who are interested in buying me out. But they’re not gonna hang around forever.”

  Si scowled at the river, for some reason irritated by the reminder. “I told you, it’ll be another couple of days. I need to be at that town meeting, see what the fallout is. I can’t just cut and run if there’s going to be trouble.”

  “I thought you said your friend could handle it?” Damon sounded as grumpy as Si was.

  “I didn’t say that. I just said she wasn’t happy at having to deal with it.”

  “There are other people around to help her though, right?”

  Tension crawled through Si, making his jaw ache, and he didn’t know where it had come from. Because Hope did have the rest of the town to help her. She wasn’t alone.

  Not like she was thirteen years ago, right?

  “She’s my friend,” he growled into the phone. “I can’t just dump her in it.”

  “Sure you can,” Damon said, apparently oblivious to Si’s tone. “She’s a grown woman, she can handle it. Anyway, you told me she probably wouldn’t be your friend anymore, not after so many years.”

  Yeah, he had said that, blithely expecting his feelings about her to be long dead and gone. Except they weren’t and this reluctance, this deep sense of unease, wasn’t all about the town and his own problematic relationship to it. It was about her as well.

  Suddenly he didn’t want to talk about this with Damon anymore. “I can’t hear you,” he muttered. “You’re breaking up.”

  “Hey, don’t start that—”

  “I’ll call you after the meeting,” he said, then hit the disconnect button before Damon could say another word.

  Then he sat there for a couple of moments, staring over the balcony rail at the rushing green water of the river in front of him, tense and annoyed with himself for letting all this crap get to him.

  You should have expected all of this. Coming back here was always going to be difficult.

  Yeah, and he hadn’t anticipated he’d feel quite so strongly about it. And no matter what he told himself, he was starting to feel strongly about it. About protecting this town from the troubles that were going to come with the oil money. And about Hope too, no denying it. Especially now that her livelihood was at stake, considering the call Angela had had and Angela’s own feelings on the subject.

  He needed to figure out what to do about that before the meeting, since no doubt there would be other people who felt the same way. And he really needed to get together a plan for how to deal with it. Or rather, he and Hope had to get a plan, since the issue was her mother.

  That Angela had been excited about the call hadn’t surprised Si. Even thirteen years ago, Angela hadn’t exactly been full of the joys of life. All he remembered about her was that she was a thin, angular woman who seemed to be always sitting on the couch, watching TV. She’d had issues with depression over the years in the same way his father had had issues with alcohol, and he knew that Hope had always worried about her. Really, it hadn’t been any surprise that Hope had stayed here in many ways, despite that she’d always wanted to leave. Angela had been fragile, and he’d always known that to a certain extent Hope blamed herself for her mother’s issues. Certainly her birth had resulted in a severe postpartum depression that had left Angela emotionally brittle for years afterward, so he could see why Hope thought that. Didn’t mean she had to take all responsibility for her mother though.

  You’re a fine one to talk.

  Ignoring that thought, Si decisively pulled his feet from the railing, got up from his chair, and went downstairs to the bar.

  Chapter 6

  Hope shoved the book she’d been reading under the bar, served beers to a group of fishermen who’d come in from a day on the water, before nodding at a couple of the Moose’s regulars. Not that most of the people in here as the afternoon headed into evening weren’t regulars.

  There seemed to be a few more people than was normal for a weeknight and she hadn’t missed the open stares that had followed her around.

  She knew what that was all about. The gossip mill had no doubt churned into life the moment Silas had turned up in the Moose the night before, and now that the news of an upcoming town meeting was flying around, people would be drawing conclusions.

  Her mother had come straight in from her shift at Mal’s full of questions about why Hope hadn’t mentioned that Silas was back and what this town meeting was about. Did it have something to do with the call she’d gotten about the lease? Or was it about something else?

  Hope had decided that she wasn’t going to tell Angela about the oil or about the fact that Silas planned on signing ownership of the town over to her. H
er mother would hear about it at the same time as everyone else, which was maybe slightly unfair, but Hope couldn’t risk her mother accidentally letting it slip to the wrong person before the meeting. She couldn’t bear the thought of the argument that would no doubt ensue either, or at least not yet.

  Having the town signed over to her would naturally mean that she couldn’t leave, and Angela would be pissed. And that wasn’t even going into the issues with the lease for the Moose. That lease remained in Angela’s name, which meant that legally she could do whatever she wanted with it, regardless of Hope’s wishes.

  And what do you wish? Really and truly?

  Really and truly, what she wished was that Silas hadn’t asked her to take ownership of the town. That Silas had never come back here at all. That Cal hadn’t died and that oil hadn’t been found…

  But hell, what was the point in wishing for that? The reality was all those things had happened, and now here she was, having taken on a responsibility she’d never wanted, a responsibility that was only going to present her with yet more difficulties.

  “Hey,” a deep voice said, prompting a small shiver to go through her. “You got a minute?”

  Hope turned, her gaze clashing with the deep green and gold of Silas’s.

  After the meeting with the mayor, he’d tried to talk to her about it, but she hadn’t been in the mood for a discussion, feeling crushed by the weight of what she’d agreed to and needing some space to kind of forget about it for a while.

  So she’d told him she was busy and had shut herself in her office, trying to lose herself in some accounts stuff. And that had worked until she’d had to open up the bar and found herself the object of interested gazes from the various locals who’d poured through the door. A few pointed questions had been asked that she’d neatly avoided, all the while becoming more and more irritated by the fact that here she was getting all the questions while the person who’d started all of this was safely ensconced upstairs, away from prying eyes.

  “Not really,” she said shortly, pretending to be absorbed at the till. “It’s busy today.”

  “Looks like it.” He glanced around the bar, then back at her. “Rumor mill on high alert already, huh?”

  That he’d guessed what the issue was didn’t make her feel any less annoyed. “What did you expect?” She closed the till with slightly more force than necessary. “After you appeared last night and then the news of the meeting today… Well. Everyone wants to know what’s going on.”

  If her tone bothered him, he didn’t show it. “And did you tell them?”

  “No, of course not.” She folded her arms and stared at him. “What do you want?”

  He stared back. “We need to decide how we’re going to handle your mother.”

  His casual assumption that they’d deal with this together shouldn’t have annoyed her the way it did. Yet here she was, annoyed by it. “We?” She arched a brow. “Why should that have anything to do with you?”

  Something shifted in his gaze. “Let’s discuss this in your office.”

  But Hope was in no mood to discuss anything. “Yeah, let’s not. I have work to do, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  He didn’t reply for a second, his gaze moving over her in a way that made her feel restless and vulnerable, as if he could see right down to the roots of her and knew exactly why she was mad. “Let me help while I can,” he said at last, quietly. “You don’t have to do all of this by yourself.”

  There was an ache somewhere in the vicinity of her heart, longing curling through her. It was familiar, that longing. She’d felt it often after he and Cal had left, leaving her alone to deal with the Moose and her mother. As if some vital piece of her was missing, making everything that much more difficult. She’d been off balance, listing like a building with crumbling foundations, her only option being to shore herself up, because there was no one to do it for her, not anymore. It had been a hard lesson in self-sufficiency, and she didn’t want to go back to depending on anyone else for support. Didn’t want to have to relearn that lesson either. But the soft note of understanding in Silas’s voice made her realize that even though she might have arranged her life so she was her own support, that didn’t mean the longing for someone else to lean on had gone away.

  Silas and Caleb had once been the most important people in her life. And now that Cal was gone, there was only Silas left.

  And he’s still important to you, no matter what you tell yourself.

  “Fine,” she heard herself say with very bad grace. “But I can’t be away from the bar for too long.”

  She led the way into the back office, hearing the firm click of the door as Silas shut it behind him.

  Not bothering to sit, she turned and met his gaze head-on. “Okay, so what’s your plan?”

  But Silas ignored that, his gaze far too sharp for her liking. “What are you mad about, Hope?”

  “I’m not mad.”

  “Bullshit. You’re pissed about something. Is it taking over ownership of the town? Or the whole situation itself?” He paused, studying her in a way that made her uncomfortable. “Or is it me?”

  Of course it was him. Him and the way he’d come in here, dropping bombshell after bombshell, then expecting her to pick up the pieces. At the same time as he offered a helping hand. A helping hand that a part of her desperately wanted to take. But she couldn’t let herself. Him and Cal leaving had hurt, and no matter how many times she told herself that she was over it, that it had happened years ago and it didn’t hurt anymore, she still carried the scars. And the wound still ached. It hadn’t healed as much as she’d thought it had.

  No point in pretending otherwise, is there? He’s not stupid.

  Yeah, more’s the pity.

  “What do you think?” She didn’t bother to hide the anger in her voice. “You waltz in after thirteen years of silence, bringing with you all kinds of trouble, and then you dump it straight in my lap. So yeah, I guess you could say I’m a little mad. After all, this is the second time you’ve done this.”

  A muscle flicked in his hard jaw, but he didn’t look away. “I offered to stay. You refused.”

  Aw, crap. She hadn’t meant to open up this particular can of worms. But the fact that he instantly knew what she was talking about was indication enough that it had been preying on his mind too, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

  It didn’t help that he was right. He had offered to stay. And she’d refused him because it hadn’t been him that she’d wanted. Or at least, she’d thought it hadn’t been him.

  Maybe it was him, but he was always too dangerous for you. Caleb was safe because he never wanted you the way you wanted him.

  A hot feeling crept through her, making her skin feel sensitized and her breath catch. Because if Cal had felt safe because she’d known he wasn’t into her, then there was a reason she’d instinctively shied away from Silas. A reason he’d always felt dangerous, making her antsy and uncomfortable. And perhaps that reason was something she’d known on a very basic level but had never wanted to examine or think about too closely, since it would mean things she wasn’t ready to face.

  That he’d wanted her.

  “You didn’t want to stay,” she said, even though she knew she should change the subject, that talking about this might open a Pandora’s box full of implications she wasn’t ready for even now. “You only said it because Caleb didn’t offer.”

  The silence in the office was full of something sharp and electric, something that whispered across her skin like a fine current, making all the hairs on her arms stand up on end.

  Gold glittered from beneath Silas’s thick, black lashes, his gaze holding hers, making it impossible for her to look away. “I would have stayed,” he said, his voice deep and dark in the silence. “I would have stayed for you.”

  A wave of heat arrowed through her, the ele
ctricity in the room crackling, sparks falling all over her skin in bright, hot points. She could see the truth in his eyes all of a sudden, the truth that perhaps had always been there and she’d never seen it because she’d never looked. Because she’d never wanted to look.

  She’d been too young, too afraid of the intensity of her emotions. On some level aware that if she allowed herself to become more than friends with Silas, she might fall and fall hard—and never ever stop falling.

  Hope wrenched her gaze away, acutely conscious of the distance separating them. Of how close he was. A very physical awareness that had her mouth going dry.

  She’d never been so conscious of a man before, of his height and strength, the width of his shoulders and the hard muscle of his chest. His arms were folded, and she wanted to study the way the cotton of his T-shirt pulled tight around his biceps, wanted to touch that chest to see if it was as firm as it looked.

  Hell, what was wrong with her? She wasn’t a virgin, for God’s sake; she knew what sex was all about. It was only that she’d decided it was more trouble than it was worth, and she’d been completely fine with that decision. She hadn’t missed it. So why did she feel this way now? Was it him? Was it the past catching up with her? Was it because he was familiar? What?

  Does it matter what it is? You’re not going there with him.

  No, she wasn’t.

  “Well, great to know,” she said inanely, her voice sounding tinny in the small confines of the room. “I’ll be sure to remember that. But right now, I have to get back to the bar.” She took a step forward, hoping the towering wall of male muscle in front of her would move.

  But he didn’t. He simply stayed where he was, as unmovable as the mountains surrounding her home and just as hard.

  “No,” Silas said.

  * * *

  Hope, who was clearly expecting him to move, came up short, her dark eyes widening. “What do you mean, no?” she demanded.

  “I mean no you can’t go back out to the bar. It’ll take care of itself for five minutes.”