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

with Kevin’s fishing charter idea on it and slipped off the barstool. “I’ll go over this in the afternoon. I’ve got to see some growers this morning, and I was hoping to get to the library before lunchtime.”

“Okay, well, don’t say I didn’t offer.” Silas pushed himself away from the bar. “We’re going to have to decide which ideas are the most workable and bring them to a town meeting, you know that, right?”

Of course she knew that. It was how everything in Deep River was decided. A town meeting where town business was discussed, and if a decision needed to be made, it was put to a town ballot.

Everyone had a say and everyone had a voice, and it had been that way for nearly a century.

“Yes, obviously. We can sort through this stuff tomorrow if you like and make a decision about which ideas to bring to a meeting the day after.”

He shook his head. “No. Need to run them by Damon and Zeke first.”

“Seriously?” Astrid frowned. “Damon? Who just left?”

Silas sighed. “Yeah, I tried to make him stay. He’s good with money and we could use someone with financial skills to help with business plans. But he’s got other things to do. He said he’d give me a call about it once he was back in LA.”

It didn’t surprise her that Damon had left and so quickly. He hadn’t struck her as the type of man who hung around a tiny town like Deep River.

“What about your other friend? Zeke?”

Silas’s expression turned cagey. “Yeah, he’s a little more difficult to get ahold of.”

“Why? He owns part of your aviation company, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“So he’s in Juneau, right?”

“Not at present.”

Astrid gave Silas an irritated look. “You’re being awfully mysterious about this. If we can’t get hold of him, then we can’t get a decision.”

“I know that.” He turned toward the back of the bar. “Don’t worry about it. It’s my problem. I’ll handle it.”

“Or we could just not ask him,” Astrid muttered, but not loud enough for Silas to hear. Mainly because it wouldn’t make any difference. Silas Quinn might have carefully navigated the difficult business of the oil, not to mention been successful in spearheading the current effort to get into tourism to make up for the lack of oil dollars, but he was also, like most men of her acquaintance, a stubborn ass.

She was just turning toward the exit herself when the Moose’s doors were pushed open and a familiar tall, muscular figure strode in.

Apparently, Damon hadn’t flown off to LA like he’d told everyone he was going to.

Astrid stopped dead, a strange fluttering starting in the pit of her stomach. It felt a little like excitement, which didn’t make any sense, so she ignored it. “Weren’t you supposed to be leaving?” she said, trying for her usual cool tone.

“Yeah,” Silas added from behind her. “Didn’t you have pressing business you absolutely couldn’t wait another day to handle back in LA?”

Damon’s mouth curved in a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Strangely enough, that business wasn’t as pressing as I thought.”

“Really?” Silas came up to stand next to Astrid, sounding deeply suspicious. “What brought this on, then?”

She didn’t care why Damon was staying. She didn’t care that he’d apparently changed his mind. She had things to do and she should leave.

Yet she didn’t.

Then Damon’s gaze unexpectedly settled on her, making that flutter in the pit of her stomach flutter even harder.

She crushed it. Flat.

“I thought more about these tourism ideas you’ve got going on and I’ve decided I can spare a couple more days.” But Damon wasn’t looking at Silas as he said it; he was looking at her.

There was an expression in his sky-blue eyes, a glitter of something serious that made the fluttering sensation in her gut close into a fist, clenching tight.

Connor.

“Need to talk to you if you have a moment,” Damon said.

Astrid swallowed, her mouth dry. “Sure.”

Silas was frowning. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Damon gave his friend an easy grin. “Would Hope mind if I stayed on another few days?”

Silas didn’t reply immediately, glancing first at Astrid and then back at Damon, making Astrid’s gut clench even tighter.

Oh great, what was Silas thinking? It had better not be about her and Damon, wondering what was going on between them. Because there was no reason for them to talk together alone about anything.

“No,” Silas said, his gaze turning speculative. “I don’t think she’ll mind.”

Okay, she needed to take control of this and stat.

“I presume this is about the financial information you requested from me earlier?” she asked Damon coolly, making it up as she went along and hoping he’d take the hint.

“It is,” he replied, much to her relief. “I can come to your office if you’d like, or you can come upstairs while I drop my bag off.”

Better to get this over and done with, right? Like ripping off a Band-Aid, etc.

“Perhaps I’ll come upstairs.” She held out a hand toward the door. “After you.”

“Damon,” Silas began, giving Astrid a sidelong glance.

But Damon was already heading toward the exit. “You and I can talk later. Over a beer, okay?”

He didn’t wait for a response, disappearing through the door near the bar that led to the stairs.

Silas turned his attention on Astrid. “What’s going on?”

“Financial stuff,” she lied, already beginning to follow Damon since she really didn’t want to be left down here having to deal with Silas. “We’ll talk later too.”

Damon’s room was one of the bigger ones, at the end of the upstairs hall, with its own bathroom and, of course, the balcony that looked out over the river.

It contained an old but sturdy wooden bed pushed up against the wall facing the french doors, an old dresser, a desk near one of the other windows, and a brown leather armchair that stood near the desk.

A clean, tidy room, but nothing fancy.

Astrid looked around, her brain automatically cataloguing what could possibly be improved on in order to attract more tourists here. The views over