Deep River Promise Jackie Ashenden (best life changing books .txt) 📖

Again, there was no hint of smugness on Damon’s face that she’d agreed with him, not like Aiden had gotten on his sometimes when he’d scored a point off her.

He only nodded. “It’s a lot of responsibility on his shoulders. The kid must feel he has to look out for everyone in the entire place, so no wonder he’s skipping school. He won’t have time for that if he’s busy making sure everyone’s okay.”

The guilt inside Astrid bit deep. She lifted her glass and drained the rest of the whisky, trying to ease the feeling.

Her poor boy. All of this was her fault, wasn’t it?

“Hey.” Damon’s deep voice was soft. “Don’t beat yourself up about any of this. Nothing you can do about the past. It’s what you do now that matters.”

Damn the man. Could he read minds or something? Her ability to hide her feelings must be slipping. Either that or she’d had too many whiskies.

“I’m not beating myself up,” she lied smoothly. “I’m only feeling sorry for him.”

“Sure.” He tilted his head, watching her, that reassuring smile still curving his beautiful mouth. The sun in his hair made it seem more deep amber than brown, his eyes that astonishing blue; he looked like a fallen angel, all sexy and wicked and ready to sin. “But if you are, don’t.”

Astrid had to look away. He was like the sun: blinding if one looked too long at him. “I’ll take that under advisement, thank you.”

A brief silence fell.

Then Damon said, “So the real reason I decided to stick around for another couple of days is to give Connor some time to come and talk to me about Cal if he wants. Or I can talk to him, it doesn’t bother me which. He doesn’t know I changed my mind, so if you could tell him I’m staying, I’d appreciate it.”

She’d already gathered that he wasn’t leaving and his decision to stay…well, she wasn’t exactly thrilled by it. Him hanging around here, involving himself with her son…

It’s only a couple of days.

That was true. But she didn’t trust him—or rather, she didn’t trust her own gut instinct that was urging her to trust him. He might have been Cal’s friend, and Cal had clearly trusted him enough to look out for Connor, but Astrid didn’t. She knew nothing about him other than he was from LA, had a beautiful smile, and was as handsome as the Devil himself.

She’d made a bad choice in hoping Aiden would be a good father figure for Connor and instead had put him at risk. She’d never willingly make that mistake again.

“Like I said.” Astrid kept her voice cool. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

If Damon was annoyed by her tone, he didn’t show it. He merely studied her with those warm blue eyes.

“You don’t trust me,” he said eventually, and it wasn’t a question.

There was no point in pretending otherwise. “Would you? In my place?”

“No.” His smile turned rueful. “Not sure I’d trust anyone I first saw hanging out on a balcony stark naked.”

She didn’t want to smile back, but it was almost impossible with him looking at her like that, so she glanced at the floor instead and bit her lip. “Not a great start, no.”

“So what can I do to help the process along? More whisky maybe?”

The thought of sitting here in the sun sipping whisky with a charming man was all too attractive, which meant that she shouldn’t. No, it was more important to get out of here and get on with the stuff on her to-do list. Number one being figuring out what to do about her son.

“I’ll think about it,” she said shortly, getting to her feet and moving to the desk where he stood, placing the glass back on the desk next to his hip. Then she looked up at him. “Though don’t hold your breath it’s going to happen anytime soon.”

A mistake to get near him. A mistake to look at him too, she knew that immediately.

He was very tall, and the way he lounged against the side of the desk seemed designed to highlight the masculine perfection of his long, lean body. Wide shoulders and narrow hips, powerful chest. Flat stomach. The sleeves of his T-shirt stretched over sharply defined biceps, the deep blue contrasting with the deep gold of his skin. He smelled of something warm and a little spicy, like sandalwood or cloves.

He didn’t seem at all angry or even mildly annoyed at her response. “Fair enough. If you don’t want to trust me, I’m not going to force you.” He paused, his smile fading, though warmth still lingered in his eyes. “But if Connor comes to me wanting to talk, I’m not going to send him away.”

His voice was the same, rich and deep. Yet there was something in it she hadn’t heard before: a note of iron.

And it came to her in a sudden rush that although he might on the surface be calm and easygoing, laid back and unbothered, that didn’t mean he was any of those things. There was something hard in him; she could sense it. A core of strength that wouldn’t bend and wouldn’t break. That would remain immovable, no matter what she did or what she said.

It should have irritated her immensely, and it did—yet another part of her found it deeply reassuring, and she had no idea why.

Time to go.

Oh yes, it most certainly was.

“Is that a warning?” she asked, staying right where she was, because apparently she was also an idiot.

“It can be.” His gaze searched her face, heat curling through his melted-honey voice. “If you want it to be.”

She didn’t want it to be. No, most definitely not.

Are you sure? You’d love a challenge like him.

“I don’t think so,” she said, both to him and the voice in her head. “Thank you for the drink, Mr. Fitzgerald.”

He inclined his head. “Anytime, Ms. Mayor.”

Astrid had to force herself to turn