She’d had to go and talk to Mal about the fruit and vegetable co-op she’d been trying to organize. Fresh produce was expensive in Deep River, mainly because the bulk of it was airfreighted in, and so Astrid had been looking at ways to get the prices down. There were a couple of growers in the area, including Clive Henderson who had a greenhouse, so she’d decided to put together a co-op, where people could pay a flat fee and get a box of fresh, in-season produce each week. Mal had agreed to organize and stock the boxes in the market, and because Mal was a good guy, he hadn’t wanted a cut, since people generally bought things from him whenever they went in there anyway.
It undercut his own products, but he’d told Astrid that airfreighting was a pain in the butt and he’d prefer it if people bought locally.
With the co-op now certain to happen, Astrid needed to visit Clive and a couple of the other growers and have a chat with them, which was going to take a bit of time.
Then she had to go over the ideas that people had been presenting for generating tourism in Deep River, not to mention go through the boxes that were waiting in the library for processing, since she also managed Deep River’s library.
She was busy. Which was just the way she preferred it.
Astrid had never wanted to be mayor, but it was an old Deep River tradition to elect someone who didn’t want the position. Sometimes, when the populace didn’t like the selection of candidates, they voted for someone totally random in protest. Jesse, the goat, was mayor for a month before he was ousted in a cunning coup that involved a carrot and a very annoyed Kevin Anderson, who reluctantly took the position for the remainder of Jesse’s term.
The idea behind electing reluctant mayors was that the mayor concerned would be so irritated at being mayor that they wouldn’t do anything, leaving everyone alone to do their own thing, which was what the people of Deep River preferred.
Unfortunately, the opposite had happened with Astrid.
It was true that she never wanted to be mayor, but not only did she have a very strong sense of social responsibility, but she was also driven to make sure Deep River stayed a safe and stable environment for her and her son.
So, since she liked to be organized and in control of things, almost from the moment she was elected she embraced the role of mayor wholeheartedly, much to the initial annoyance of the town.
They’d mostly gotten over their annoyance—a fair few of them had even told her how much they’d been enjoying Gwen’s hot yoga for example—and were very tolerant of the initiatives she’d begun.
She appreciated that. While she’d been in Deep River five years, that was still not enough time for some people, and they regarded her with misgiving as a veritable newcomer. Though she’d been working to change that.
The oil business had naturally thrown a wrench in most of her plans, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t work through.
Certainly it was better working through that than it was thinking about certain other things that had been an issue since Caleb’s death.
Things such as how Connor was his son and no one including Connor himself knew. Yes, that was a problem. She was going to have to deal with that soon because it wasn’t fair that he didn’t know.
She’d always been going to tell him; it was just the timing had never been right.
And now it never will be.
Guilt snaked through her, along with a thread of old grief, disturbing her concentration. But now wasn’t the time to be thinking of that, so she put her pen down beside the big stack of papers on the desk and took a slow, deep breath.
There now, that was better. She was calm. Calm and in control.
A knock came on her office door.
Great, that was all she needed. Another distraction. Briefly she debated pretending not to be here.
The knock came again, louder this time.
She sighed. Ah well, she was distracted now anyway. Might as well see whoever it was. “Come in.”
The door opened and a man sauntered in, and for a second, all Astrid could do was stare at him, every single thought vanishing from her head. Mainly because the last time she’d seen him, he’d been standing on a balcony stark-naked.
Not that she’d looked. At all. He’d been too far away to see properly as it was.
She definitely hadn’t noticed that he’d been nothing but golden skin and hard, defined muscle, just like she definitely didn’t notice how all that golden skin and muscle was now covered up by a sky-blue T-shirt that had Wild Alaska Aviation written on the front and a pair of worn-looking jeans sitting low on narrow hips.
Not that the clothing detracted at all from his looks. The color of his T-shirt only served to draw attention to the dense blue of his eyes and highlight strands of caramel and gold in his dark-brown hair. His jaw was almost impossibly square and strong, his nose straight as a blade, and his mouth…his mouth was sin incarnate, curling as it did in the corners, as if he had the most delicious secret to share but only if you were very lucky.
Astrid stared because he was magnificent and she couldn’t help herself, and even though she’d caught glimpses of him around the town since he’d been here, those glimpses didn’t do justice to the reality right in front of her.
Damon Fitzgerald was possibly the handsomest man Astrid had ever seen.
Then he smiled, slow and charming, and it was devastating. Helen of Troy might have launched a thousand ships with her face, but this man could launch a million more with that smile.
He came into the office, moving with an easy, loose, and oddly graceful stride, like he wasn’t in any particular hurry but was nevertheless certain about where he was going and how he was going to get there.
“You Astrid James?” He came to a stop in front of her desk, his voice as deep and rich as she thought it would be.
He was ridiculously tall, his shoulders broad. She felt like she was sitting at the foot of a skyscraper.
“Yes,” she said with what she hoped was some degree of cool, leaning back in her chair and giving him a dose of Deep River suspicion. It wouldn’t hurt to let him know that though he might have charmed other people in the town, he wouldn’t necessarily charm her. “And I know who you are already,” she added. “You’re the guy I saw standing bare-ass naked on the balcony of the Moose this morning.”
Probably wasn’t the greatest thing to have said, but he’d put her off balance a little and she didn’t like it. Charming men, in her experience, were usually covering for something, and she didn’t trust them as far as she could throw them.
He at least had the decency to look slightly shamefaced, raising a hand and rubbing at the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry about that. Had a hangover and kind of forgot I wasn’t wearing clothes.”
Which would have mollified her if that smile hadn’t still been playing around his mouth, making him look like a boy who knew he’d done something he should be ashamed of and yet was quite pleased about it all the same.
It was ridiculously charming.
“Uh-huh.” Astrid did her best to resist that smile. “Well, my son was definitely not impressed.”
“No, nor should he be.” Damon’s hand dropped from the back of his neck, his blue eyes sparking with something that made her breath catch. “Believe it or not, I actually do have some manners.” He took a step toward the desk and leaned over it, extending his hand, his smile now slightly rueful. “If you could forget about me being the naked guy on the balcony, I’d appreciate it. I’m actually Damon Fitzgerald. Silas’s friend.”
Astrid eyed the extended hand. Some old and unfamiliar instinct was telling her that taking it would be a bad idea. However, not taking it would be rude, and she didn’t want to be rude either.
Then again, if she didn’t, she’d be admitting that he got to her, and since she didn’t let men get to her these days, she leaned forward and took it.
H
is fingers were warm as they closed around hers, his grip strong but not painfully so. Her skin prickled with an unexpected heat and her heart beat oddly fast.
Oh, she did not want that. Not at all.
She pulled her hand away, covering the abruptness of the motion by gesturing at the scuffed wooden chair that sat on the other side of her desk. “Take a seat, Mr. Fitzgerald,” she said, ignoring her stupid physical reaction. “Tell me what I can do for you.”
His blue gaze regarded her speculatively for another moment. Then he reached for the chair, pulled it back, and sat with an easy, lazy grace. He leaned back, long, powerful legs stretched out in front of him, and folded his arms across his broad chest.
He somehow reminded her of an old-time cowboy, the ones that ambled and moseyed, unhurried and measured, all slow smiles and syrupy drawls. In no rush. Patient.
“Call me Damon,” he said in that deep, rich voice. “And as to what you can for me…well, I’m here to talk about Connor.”
Chapter 3
Astrid James’s cool gray eyes widened in surprise, which he was expecting. And then just as quickly narrowed into thin slits of quartz. Which he was also expecting.
A mother was never going to simply take some stranger wandering into her office and asking her about her son at face value. In fact, he’d be surprised if she wasn’t deeply suspicious on some level and most especially when she’d seen that stranger with his junk flapping in the breeze barely an hour before.
No, it wasn’t Astrid’s suspicion that bothered him.
It was the fact that she was gorgeous that did.
She was built delicate, with the kind of precise, elegant features that belonged in elegant society, rather than a tiny backwater like Deep River. Her skin was creamy, her hair pale gold, and her eyes were the color of mountain mist; she looked like she’d been carved from sharp, clear ice. A snow queen…
But no, she wasn’t a snow queen. Not when the warmth from her hand was lingering against his palm like he’d brushed it over a living flame.
He ignored it. She might be pretty, but he wasn’t here for a pickup. He was here to talk to her about her son and then get back to LA. ASAP.
“What about Connor?” The look of cool welcome she’d given him just before had disappeared to be replaced by something much more wary.
Damon allowed his smile to fade, since it was clear she wasn’t going to be moved by it.
A superstitious man might have said it was fate that the pretty blond he’d seen from the Moose’s balcony had turned out to be Astrid and that the kid who’d been following him around the past couple of days was her son, Connor.
But Damon was not a superstitious man. And there was a reason Connor might have been following him around.
He was Caleb West’s son after all.
Damon regarded the woman sitting on the other side of the desk steadily.
How to go about this? How to break it to her that he was here to fulfill Caleb’s last wish, to make sure that the son he’d sired fifteen years earlier, the son who no one else in the world knew about except the boy’s mother and Damon, was “looked after”?
There were so many things to consider. Did she mourn Caleb’s death? It had only happened a few weeks ago, and hell, he, Zeke, and Silas were still dealing with his loss, let alone the woman who’d had his kid. And things were made even more tricky by the fact that no one knew Cal even had a kid, or that said kid was living in Deep River. Not even Cal’s sister, Morgan, knew.
The easiest thing would have been to ignore the letter the lawyer had handed to him as the will reading had ended and Silas and Morgan had walked out. The letter was for Damon only, the lawyer had said. Mr. West was most clear that no one else should know about it.
Already Damon had had a suspicion about what was in that letter, and he’d been proved right. Look after my boy, Caleb had instructed him. See to his future.
Being responsible for another child was pretty much the last thing on earth Damon wanted, and walking away would have been a hell of a lot easier. But he’d never walk away from a friend, especially one who’d fought beside him.
He still wasn’t sure how he was going to “look out” for Connor, not when he had to be back in LA, but maybe he and Astrid could come to some kind of arrangement.
She was regarding him with that same cool look, yet a subtle tension had gathered around her. Those exquisitely carved features had hardened, her gray eyes solidifying from mist into solid steel. Her irises had a rim of dark charcoal and a dark charcoal center too, the color highlighted by the silver-gold of her lashes. She wore a plain white T-shirt, which somehow enhanced her snow-queen vibe.
“Okay,” Damon said at last. “Here’s the deal. Personally, I don’t want anything to do with your son. But you should know I have an obligation to fulfill.”
A whole host of emotions flickered over the mayor’s face, but they were gone so fast, Damon couldn’t tell what they were.
She leaned back in her old, creaky wooden chair. “A personal obligation,” she echoed. “Don’t tell me. You’re here on behalf of Caleb.”
Smart woman. But then it wasn’t all that difficult to work out. He was one of Cal’s buddies and now Cal was dead; it was logical for her to assume some provision had been made for his son.
“I didn’t do the right thing, Damon,” Cal had said that night when they were both on watch, the moonlight bright over the rocky desert that surrounded them. “When Astrid got pregnant, I told her I didn’t want anything to do with a kid.” His friend’s face had been shadowed, his voice quiet. “I know I was only seventeen, but it was a cowardly thing to do, and I regretted it. So when she called me out of the blue, wanting a place to stay, I couldn’t say no. She’s in Deep River with him now, and I’ve spent the last couple of years trying to make it up to them.”
The memory was an uncomfortable one, bringing with it other things that Damon didn’t want to remember, so he pushed it away, concentrating instead on the woman sitting behind the desk.
“I am,” he said simply, because in the end, simple was best. “I got a letter after Cal died. It went just to me, none of the other guys know about it. And all it said was that I had to make sure Connor was looked after and his future was taken care of. So that’s why I’m here.”
Astrid was silent, her expression unreadable.
Abruptly, she shoved back the chair with a screech and stood up, moving over to the window that looked out over the boardwalk and the river. She stood there with her back to him, the sunlight falling over her blond hair, turning it brilliant gold. Tension rolled off her in waves, as well as a bristly kind of energy. Like a cat sensing a threat to its territory and raising its fur.
He had the oddest urge to lift his hand and stroke her to soothe her.
Hell, why had Cal chosen him to handle this? Silas would have been the better choice. Silas was a man of few words, but he knew how to do serious. Plus, he was also from Deep River and knew how the place worked. He knew Astrid too.
You know why Cal chose you. Because you were once a father.
Once. Not now.
The dull ache that he always felt when he remembered Ella shifted behind his breastbone, but he ignored it. He didn’t have time for old memories.
“I’m sorry,” he said into the silence. “I know this is a—”
“Shock?” she finished for him without turning around. “Yes, you could say that.”
Damon studied her tense back. Cal hadn’t offered much in the way of information about her, only that she’d lived in Ketchikan and they’d both gone to the same high school, getting together at a party when they’d both been seventeen. He’d refused to take responsibility for the pregnancy, telling not a single soul about it, hiding it from everyone, including his parents. Then years later Astrid had contacted him again in dire straits and he’d given her and Connor a place to stay.
Cal hadn’t mentioned what those dire straits were, only that Astrid had never forgiven him for abandoning her and his son. Which meant that trying to make up for his mistake had been difficult.
Given her reaction just now, Damon had a suspicion that it was still going to be difficult and he hoped it wouldn’t end up becoming a problem. He really couldn’t stay here any longer.
Come on, what did you think was going to happen? Did you really think this would be easy? You should have tackled this days ago.
His jaw tightened. Yeah, he should have, but he hadn’t. And actually, what he’d hoped was that Astrid would smile, tell him she and Connor were fine, and send him on his way. That would have been the best outcome all around, especially given what was happening with his mom.
Except it didn’t look like that would be the case.
He stayed silent, giving her a couple of moments to process what he’d said and trying to quell his own impatience. To pass the time, he took a look around the cluttered little office, noting the ramshackle wooden bookcases pushed up against the walls and the old-fashioned metal filing cabinets, the photos of previous mayors on the walls. One of them appeared to be a goat. There were also a few Alaska tourism posters featuring the usual moose, bears, mountains, whales, and the odd dog sled. One was slightly different. It looked hand drawn and encouraged people to “find love in the middle of nowhere!”
Everything was very, very tidy. Even the pen discarded on the desktop was straight.
Was that her? Did she like to keep things neat? She certainly seemed to be the kind of cool, precise woman who liked to make sure everything was in its place.
Why do you care what she’s like?
He didn’t care. He was simply passing the time.
Deep River Promise Page 3
