Deep River Promise (Alaska Homecoming #2) - Jackie Ashenden Page 0,15

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…” he began.

“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