Deep River Promise (Alaska Homecoming #2) - Jackie Ashenden Page 0,45
his phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket. Clearly some service was back.
He tugged it out, his heart clenching as he saw on the screen that it was his mom.
“Hey, Mom,” he said, answering the call. “What’s up?”
“There’s a stranger in my house,” Laura Fitzgerald said without any preliminaries. “I don’t like it, Damon.”
“It’s just Rachel, Mom.” He kept his tone patient. “The housekeeper, remember?”
“I don’t need a housekeeper. I’ve been keeping my own damn house for years.”
“I know. But she’s not there for you. She’s there so I don’t have to keep calling you and interrupting your shows.”
“You don’t have to keep calling me.” His mother sounded cross. “I’m perfectly fine.”
“Of course you are, but I’m a worrier.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about me.” There was a pause. “When are you coming home?”
Tension gathered inside him. It was the first time she’d asked him that.
“Soon, Mom,” he said. “Very soon, I promise.”
His mother seemed satisfied with the assurance, though she complained about Rachel for a few more minutes before ending the call with her usual abruptness.
Afterward, Damon sat on the dock and stared at nothing.
Really, the quicker he tied everything up here in Deep River, the better it would be for all concerned.
* * *
After she’d given Morgan a rundown of the past couple of weeks, and Morgan had left, Astrid debated waiting in her office for Damon to turn up again, especially since they hadn’t finished talking about all the tourism stuff.
But she had other things to do and trailing around the town looking for him was going to take up too much time. Sure, the town wasn’t very large and it wouldn’t take that long to find out where he was, but it would probably be best if she didn’t go looking for him immediately. She needed a break from his distracting presence anyway.
The library needed her attention, but her first stop was Mal’s Market, so she could talk to Mal about how her meeting with the growers had gone the day before.
The market was a treasure trove of a place, full of towering shelves piled high with all kinds of things ranging from cereal boxes to complete dinner sets, boxes of nails to bottles of hairspray, tins of sardines and tins of pâté, while in the rafters above were stored fishing rods, skis, ski poles, shovels, and brooms, among other things.
There was also an internet station where reliable web access could be obtained via Mal’s satellite connection, plus plenty of DVDs in the DVD library, as well as videos for those who still had VCRs.
A magical place, full of the smell of sawdust, wood polish, wet parkas, and spices. The place people came when they needed anything at all, even if it was just a good gossip with Mal.
Mal was behind the counter now, a tall, burly man in his late fifties with a salt-and-pepper beard, a buzz cut, tattoos up both arms and dressed in jeans and blue flannel. He was chatting with a collection of people all standing around the counter, mostly female Astrid couldn’t help but notice.
And then she realized who was at the center of the collection.
Damon Fitzgerald.
He leaned against the counter, smiling that devastating smile and talking easily with the assembled crowd, all of whom appeared to be hanging on his every word. And no wonder. With his caramel-brown hair, sky-blue eyes, and his fallen-angel handsomeness, he looked like a king holding court with his subjects.
Her heart stumbled in her chest, her breath catching.
It wasn’t fair. All those things he’d said in her office about wanting to take her to dinner and talk to her, then maybe even take her home afterward, she suddenly wanted too. But he was right. It couldn’t happen between them. There were too many complicating factors, especially the ones he didn’t know about.
Aiden had seemed to be too good to be true too, exactly like Damon. Handsome and charming, excellent with her son. A man a woman could fall for so easily. A man who’d turned out to be one of the worst choices she’d ever made.
No, she couldn’t risk that again. Damon had to remain off-limits.
Stopping in the middle of the aisle, she debated whether to simply turn around and walk out. But then they still had the town’s tourist ideas to discuss, and he was only going to be here another day…
Her whirling thoughts stopped in their tracks as Damon looked up, his gaze catching hers, and everything went entirely out of her head.