Deep River Promise, Jackie Ashenden [large ebook reader .TXT] 📗

the Moose and fighting, and she most definitely did not want Connor learning anything from him.

“Mom, I know you’re worried.” Connor hitched his backpack higher at the same time as he made a calming motion with his free hand. “But you don’t need to be. I’ll be fine. I’ll keep an eye on that guy so that—”

“What guy?” a deep male voice said from the doorway of the Moose.

Astrid’s stomach dropped as both she and Connor turned toward the doorway.

Sure enough, Damon Fitzgerald, tall and ridiculously gorgeous, the strap of a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, was standing there staring at them.

Connor flushed scarlet. Then he straightened up, squared his shoulders, and much to Astrid’s annoyance, he stepped in front of her, putting himself between her and Damon.

“You,” Connor said, scowling. “I’m keeping an eye on you.”

Chapter 4

Damon had to hand it to the kid; he looked ferocious standing there protectively in front of his mother. He had Cal’s height and was starting to get his breadth too, not to mention Cal’s mile-wide streak of pure mule.

But the cool challenge in his bright-blue eyes was all Astrid.

Damon had just been saying his goodbyes to Silas and taking his friend’s disappointment that he wasn’t staying as best he could when they’d been interrupted by raised voices from outside the Moose. Damon, who didn’t get mad easily, had found himself on edge and irritated, so he’d slammed open the Moose’s door to find out just who the hell was interrupting his goodbye to his friend.

A family argument between the kid and his mother, apparently.

And now they’d turned on him. Or at least Connor had.

He was staring hard at Damon, all squared up and ready to fight.

Unfortunately for the kid, Damon didn’t fight teenage boys.

“Oh?” He kept his tone very casual. “And why is that?”

“Connor,” Astrid said warningly from behind her son.

“It’s okay, Mom.” Connor didn’t take his eyes off Damon. “I got this.”

Damon nearly smiled, reminded of himself at that age. He’d been a little bit like Connor: protective of his mother, wanting to be taken seriously—desperate to be a man, take on a man’s responsibilities.

But smiling would have been the wrong thing to do; the kid would think he was being laughed at and that would only make the situation worse.

Damon held the boy’s gaze. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”

“Is that right?” Connor’s chin rose. “How do we know that?”

“Connor,” Astrid repeated, sounding exasperated. She tried to step sideways, but Connor angled his body so he was in front of her again.

Yeah, he really was protective. A young wolf defending his turf.

Damon could only respect that.

“You’ve got my word,” he said neutrally. “And if you won’t take mine, you can take Silas’s.”

Connor’s jaw worked as if he were chewing something over. He had his backpack strap in a white-knuckled grip, while his other hand was in his pocket. Mirroring Damon’s stance—probably unconsciously.

There was something a little bit hungry about the way he stared at Damon. A little bit desperate. As if Damon had something he really wanted but didn’t know how to ask for.

“Are you an oilman?” Connor demanded all of a sudden. “You better not lie to me.”

Luckily, Astrid had mentioned earlier her son’s suspicions, or else Damon might have lost the battle against a smile. Not that he was laughing at the boy, definitely not. It was just that the poor kid must not know what the hell an oilman looked like if he thought Damon was one.

Fighting amusement, Damon didn’t move and he didn’t smile. Only held the boy’s belligerent blue gaze, not challenging him but not backing down either. It was a fine line, but he’d learned how to walk it while on deployment with trigger-happy, nervous villagers.

“No,” he said. “I’m not an oilman. I’m a bush pilot. Or at least I was one. I’m not now. I’m heading back to LA. Right now, in fact.”

Instantly, the belligerent look disappeared off Connor’s face to be replaced by shock. “What?”

Just for a second, he looked very young and a little lost, and the ache behind Damon’s breastbone, the one that never went away, shifted.

Weird. He hadn’t felt that in response to anyone, let alone a kid, not for years. Not since Ella had died. It was almost as if he cared, which was strange since he didn’t care much about anything except his mom these days. His life was all about drifting along on the surface of things, never delving too deeply, and that’s how he preferred it.

Clearly the sensation was an aberration.

Then Astrid, who hadn’t seen the change of expression on her son’s face, muttered, “Connor, for God’s sake. Don’t be so rude.”

The lost look slid away abruptly, as if it had never been.

“I’m not being rude, Mom,” Connor said, continuing to glare darkly at Damon. “Just looking out for Deep River and making sure strangers are on the level.”

Interesting. It was clear that Connor wanted something from him—why else would he be following Damon around?—but he didn’t know how to get it, and it was also clear that he didn’t want his mother to know that he wanted it.

So what was it? Damon was a stranger, yet for some reason, Connor had fixated on him.

There could be a reason for that.

Well, yeah. Damon was the only stranger in Deep River, so it wasn’t any wonder. Or…perhaps it was because Damon had a connection to Cal. Sure, Silas also had that connection, but then Silas was a known quantity. And talking to Silas about Cal would reveal Cal’s secret…

No one here knew who Connor’s father was, and Astrid had told him she wanted to keep it that way. But…did the kid know?

Astrid, losing patience and clearly annoyed, stepped out of the way of her son. “Get up to the house, Connor James,” she said flatly. “You and I need to have a little chat about manners.”

Connor hid his feelings well, but Damon could see the flickers of desperation in the boy’s eyes. “But, Mom…”