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

for example. Entertainment. Places to eat. Places to sleep.”

She pulled a face and he laughed. “Yeah, I know. You’re thinking it’s going to turn into some kind of tourist hellhole, but it won’t if you do it right. Because what you don’t want is a whole lot of tourists milling around with nothing to do and nowhere to go and leaving you crap reviews online.”

She snorted. “Reviews? Really?”

“Yes, people write reviews on Tripadvisor and on their Facebook pages and the various Deep River businesses’ Facebook pages—which if they don’t have yet, they’re going to have to get—or they post pictures on Instagram. What you don’t want is people saying what a terrible time they had in Deep River. You want them to have a whole experience. The magic of the wilderness. The pristine scenery. The amazing wildlife. Getting away from the rat race, et cetera et cetera.”

Her gaze narrowed. “And ‘entertainment’ is going to help with that?”

“Well, let me put it to you this way. Are you really going to want a bunch of tourists cluttering up the Moose every night?”

“Hmmm.” She reached forward for another donut. “I suppose not.”

He grinned. “It’s okay. You can have my donut.”

In the process of taking a bite, Astrid stilled, her forehead creasing. “Oh. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” She held out the donut to him. “Here. It’s yours.”

He wondered what she’d do if he leaned forward and took a bite out of the donut, brushing her fingertips with his mouth. Would she blush again? Would she let him take another bite? Lick sugar from the tips of her fingers?

Not helpful.

No, it wasn’t. At all.

“It’s okay. Eat it. I can get another.” He shoved away the flare of interest from the more disreputable parts of himself situated below his belt. “So, back to the tourists. Where are they all going to sleep? You think the ones with money are going to be happy with the Moose’s rooms?”

Astrid bit into the donut and chewed. “Nate has the Gold Pan. And there’s Clare’s B&B.”

“Who do they cater to? Hunters and trappers? Fishermen?”

Astrid glanced down at the paper sitting in the folder in front of her and groaned. “Oh, not Mike’s luxury motel idea again.”

Damon lifted an eyebrow. “Again?”

“Yes. He tried to make something of it last year and people weren’t happy about it. There were arguments.”

“I think it’s a good idea. Done well, places like this can cater to a higher-end tourist. And it doesn’t have to be casinos and roller coasters. Ecotourism is a whole thing, so why not go that route?” He shifted in his seat, his legs out in front of him, crossing his ankles. “Of course, that’s a long term plan since it’ll require more serious investment.”

She frowned, her attention still on the paper in front of her, the donut finished. A dusting of sugar sparkled on the side of her cheek and he wanted to put his hand to it, brush it away. He could also see the marks of a sleepless night in the dark smudges beneath her eyes.

His thoughts wandered yet again. Why had she ended up here? Cal had mentioned that he’d given her a place to stay here, but why? What had happened to her that she’d left wherever she was and turned up in Deep River?

“There’s kids too,” he went on, trying to get back on track. “If you want the family dollar, there’s got be some options for them.”

“Phil’s,” she murmured. “His wildlife sanctuary.”

“Phil’s?”

Astrid took another sip of her coffee. “Filthy Phil. Old guy who lives up the hill behind the town. Bit of an eccentric. He was a trapper back in the day, but he rescues animals now and he’s got quite a collection.”

An old eccentric with a house full of animals? Could be quite the tourist draw. “Might work,” he said. “Go hard with the quirky small-town stuff. People love that.”

She looked up, her expression thoughtful. “You should take a tour around the town, talk to people. Get a feel for the place.”

“Not a bad idea.” He took a swallow of his own coffee. “I’ve already done a bit of chatting to the locals over the past three days.”

“So I hear,” she said dryly.

He grinned, meeting her misty gray gaze. “That bad, huh?”

Unexpectedly, she smiled back, slow-blooming and sweet, a rare treasure that hit him somewhere near his heart. “Oh, come on. You must know you’ve charmed half the population.”

You should probably stop this.

He ignored the thought. “Only half? Does that include you?”

Her gaze met his and held, and he could feel the familiar, dense crackling energy of sexual tension fill the space between them.

He very badly wanted to taste her, reach across the desk, thread his fingers through her pretty gold hair, and bring her mouth to his. Would she taste as soft and as sweet as the sugar on her cheeks? Or would there be a cool bite to her, a hint of citrus?

“Damon.” His name sounded husky and there was the ghost of a plea in it, though for what he didn’t know. To stop or to…

No. Bad idea. If you can’t control yourself, then get the hell out.

“Think I might go and get myself another donut after all.” He pushed himself sharply out of his chair and stood. “Need anything?”

She blinked in surprise. “I…”

“Good,” he said and, without waiting for a response, turned and walked out.

* * *

Astrid sat back in her chair and took a long breath. What had just happened? Because she was pretty sure something had.

One minute Damon had been lounging across the desk, all long and lean and muscular, blue eyes glinting at her from beneath thick, dark gold lashes. His smile had vanished and he’d looked…hungry. Starved even.

The next minute he’d gotten to his feet and walked out, muttering something about a donut.

You know what happened. Come on.

Astrid closed her eyes, feeling that moment of attraction that had shimmered between them. Different from before, more intense. The hungry look in his eyes had been for