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

“It’s not a problem,” Damon said before he could stop himself, instinctively responding to the look on Connor’s face. “He’s just making sure his people are okay.”

Astrid stared at him in surprise, though why she should be surprised he had no idea. Did she really think he’d turn this into an issue? Connor was fifteen and still figuring out what it meant to be a man, while Damon was thirty-two and already knew what being a man meant.

Being a man did not mean picking a fight with a kid.

Connor glowered even harder, which Damon understood. He’d probably been hoping for a fight and Damon had just denied him one.

Conscious that Sandy at the tourist information bureau was still fussing around with postcard stands and glancing their way, Damon decided it was time to draw this little scene to a close.

“Want to see me to the city limits?” He looked at Connor. “Make sure I’m gone?”

Didn’t you not want to get into anything complicated?

He wasn’t getting into anything complicated. All he was going to do was give the kid a chance to say his piece to Damon without his mother around, which he clearly wanted to do.

Connor grasped the lifeline Damon had extended like it was the last life preserver on the Titanic. “Yeah,” he said, his belligerence now more slightly forced, as if he was playing it up for his mother’s benefit. “I think I’ll do that.”

Astrid frowned at her son, then glanced back at Damon, as if she’d sensed something was going on between them but didn’t know what to make of it.

“It’s all right, Ms. Mayor.” Damon kept his voice casual. “If he wants to see me off the premises, I’m okay with it.”

Astrid opened her mouth, shut it again. There was something up with her, Damon could sense it. Her misty-gray eyes had sharpened into steel again, and that bristly energy was sparking around her once more.

Was it her son’s behavior? Or was it something else?

“A word, Mr. Fitzgerald,” she said crisply.

It was obvious she meant without Connor hanging around.

Damon glanced at the teenager. “Can I have a minute with your mother?”

Astrid rolled her eyes, clearly irritated. “Really?”

But Connor, after a second’s obvious shock at being asked, glanced at Astrid, then back at Damon. The look he gave Damon was very much of the touch a hair on her head and I’ll kill you variety. “Yes, you may,” he said magnanimously.

Damon nodded, acknowledging and accepting the unspoken threat.

Connor gave him one last narrow look, then turned and strode off over the boardwalk toward the stairs that led to the dock.

“How nice that someone around here has some authority,” Astrid said dryly.

The expression on her precise, lovely features was calm, but that bristly energy snapped and crackled around her. She was agitated, that much was obvious.

“What’s up?” He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m really not bothered about Connor’s manners if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” She glanced in the direction of the dock, where her son had just gone down the steps, then looked back at Damon. Something glittered in her gray eyes that seemed awfully like a plea. “He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know about…” She stopped and glanced around again, as if looking for eavesdroppers. “His father.”

Well, that cleared up a few questions, even if it generated a few more. Though they were questions he wouldn’t be finding answers to, since he’d be leaving. In about half an hour tops.

“Noted.” He hitched his bag higher on his shoulder. “And don’t worry, I won’t mention a word of it to him.”

Astrid’s gray gaze was unreadable. “Why are you getting him to follow you?”

“Because it seems like he needs to say something, so I might as well give him a chance to say it.”

“Why?” The question sounded a little sharp. “What does it matter to you?”

Damon eyed her in silence for a moment. She sure was protective on her boy’s behalf. Not unexpected given that she was his mother, but there was something else there that he couldn’t put his finger on. An edge to it that seemed slightly out of proportion.

You can’t get interested. You’re leaving, remember?

Yeah, he was.

“Because Cal asked me to check on him,” Damon said mildly. “You said you didn’t need my help, and fair enough. But I think I need to at least give him an opportunity to speak to me if he wants to. Got to at least make an effort when it’s an old friend’s last wish, right?”

Her gaze was very direct and very cool as she studied him, though what she was looking for he had no idea. But he didn’t miss the crease that appeared between her fair brows. Perhaps she didn’t know what she was looking for either.

“Okay,” she said at last. “But please don’t say anything to him. I…” She stopped again, her mouth compressing as if to hold something back.

“You what?”

But Astrid only shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Just…” She waved a hand. “Be careful with him. He’s a good kid.”

Of course he’d be careful with him. And he found himself wanting to hear what she’d been going to say. Except he didn’t know her well enough to push, and besides, he was leaving. Now.

“I will,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

She didn’t say anything, only nodded, turning her gaze back on her son who was lounging on the dock. His posture was casual, but he was looking steadily Damon’s way, keeping a beady eye on him.

The bristly tension in her had eased, but he could still feel it radiating from her. She was worried for her son.

It made him want to reassure her—he didn’t like it when a woman was distressed—but he wasn’t sure what to say since he didn’t know what she was worried about in the first place.

So all he said was, “Take care of yourself, Ms. Mayor. Like I said, don’t worry. I’ll try not to corrupt him with my shocking city ways.”

She gave him a