That Deep River Feeling, page 5
So what did that mean for Wild Alaska? And the piloting he did? The guiding stuff as well? Would he have to stay here too? Because he didn’t want to. He hated towns, even small ones like Deep River.
Perhaps if you hadn’t taken off after Cal’s funeral or even bothered to check in with them, you might know the answers to those questions.
He wished he could ignore that snide thought, but he couldn’t. Because it was true. He’d left after Cal’s funeral, too shaken by a grief he had difficulty processing and worried about a threat from his past that he hadn’t seen coming. He’d needed the wilderness, peace and silence and isolation, and so that’s what he’d done.
In retrospect, though, he probably should have at least answered one of the many emails Silas had sent him, that had flooded into his inbox as soon as he was within range of a cell phone tower.
Morgan gave him another concerned look. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” he said brusquely.
Her bright gaze turned speculative. “Wouldn’t it be funny if you stayed—”
“No,” he said for the third time. “I’m not staying here.”
A ghost of that dazzling smile flickered around her pretty mouth. “Right, well, I guess that tells me all about your plans then. But you know, if you want to remain an owner, you have to live here. That’s part of the deal. So if you’re going to leave, you’ll have to sign over your share of the town to someone else.”
That wouldn’t be a problem. He didn’t want to own a town anyway.
There was a tight feeing in his chest, a kind of heaviness. He wasn’t a fan of change, another reason why he preferred the Alaskan bush to just about everywhere else. The bush could be unpredictable, but at least it was the kind of unpredictable he could anticipate and prepare for. Nature he could read.
People, however, were a whole other story, and sitting here with Morgan was reminding him of that fact in a rather painful way.
Hell, the quicker he got these repairs out of the way, the quicker he could leave.
“Got no problem with that,” he said, since it seemed like she wanted an answer. “Tell me about the oil.” Not because he particularly wanted to talk about it, but it might be a good idea to at least hear what had been going on.
Morgan looked startled, then took another sip of her beer. “You should talk to your fellow owners about that.”
“Why?” He gave her back her own stare. “You know about it, don’t you? I mean, that’s why you asked me about it before, right?”
“True.” She fiddled idly with her beer bottle. “Okay, so a week or so after Cal died, a few people in town were approached by the company personally. There were calls. You know how Deep River is organized right?”
Zeke found himself staring at her fingers as they stroked the glass of the bottle. They were long and slim, her nails cut short and painted a pretty pale pink. Practical and feminine.
“Zeke?”
He felt hot all of a sudden.
“Are you listening?”
He tore his gaze away from her hand, trying to get his brain to work again. What was she talking about? Oh right, the town. Cal had told him all about Deep River years ago, about how the entire town was privately owned and run by the Wests. How all the people who lived there were on leases, the rent paid with whatever people had on them and could afford. Seemed to Zeke like a weird way to run a town, but apparently it worked and worked well.
“Yeah, Cal mentioned it. So the oil company was calling leaseholders about selling then?”
“Yes. Several people were offered large sums for their leases and if not the lease itself, then the mineral rights. Si told everyone what they were entitled to and that they could make their own decision about it.”
That sounded very Silas. He was a firm believer in everyone making up their own mind, even if it was to his own detriment. Zeke liked that about him, liked his honesty too. Honest people were in short supply in Zeke’s experience.
“What did they decide?” He’d been in Alaska for a few years, had spent a lot of time in the backcountry, and he suspected he already knew what the town would have decided.
“They decided that this town was more important than oil and that they were going to refuse all offers.” A note of pride had crept into her sweet, clear voice. “We look after each other here. And we don’t like a whole lot of strangers coming in and telling us what to do.” Her gaze was just a little pointed.
Zeke got it. She meant him. Well, with any luck things wouldn’t change and no one would be coming in and telling them what to do.
What if your fix didn’t work?
No, it would. His father had promised him.
He shifted in his chair and took another sip of his own beer. “And the money? Were people okay with turning their backs on that?”
Morgan pulled a face. “Not exactly. I wasn’t here when all of this was discussed, but Silas and Hope managed to put a case to the town for encouraging more of the tourist dollar as a way of earning what we lost in turning down the oil money.”
That surprised him. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. Strangely enough, people like their town as is and don’t want to see it torn up for a whole bunch of money.”
That would be a first. People were greedy, both rich and poor, and he knew because he’d had experience with both firsthand. Wave enough money in front of people’s faces, and eventually they’d make a grab for it.
“Tourism’s never going to replace the oil money. It’ll take years and serious investment to see even a small percentage of it.” Especially when he knew all too well what kind of offers the oil company would make the townspeople. More money than most of these people would see in a lifetime in all likelihood.
Morgan tilted her head, her bright blue eyes taking on a sharper glint. “How would you know?”
He nearly scowled, irritated with himself. Good food, a beer, a pretty face, and a dazzling smile had all lulled him. She was much sharper than he’d expected, which meant he’d have to be careful if he didn’t want to head down a conversational track he had no desire to head down.
Lifting a casual shoulder, he said, “Been around. I know how these companies work.” It wasn’t a lie. He had intimate knowledge of exactly how those companies worked.
She seemed to accept this. “Well, it might take years, but we’re prepared to take the chance. We don’t want the oil company here and we voted on it, and everyone agreed. We also voted on some ideas to invest money in for tourism development and those involved are getting together some business plans and—”
“What if they come back?” he interrupted, knowing he should leave the subject alone but unable to help himself.
Morgan frowned. “They might, but they can’t do anything. They don’t own the land. You and Silas and Damon own it.”
“Doesn’t matter. There’s a shitload of money on the table and they’re going to want in on it, and they’re not going to let a bunch of naive townspeople get in the way.”
Her steady gaze, already sharp, turned sharper. “What are you saying?”
Perhaps you should shut up now.
Yeah, he should. This wasn’t like him. Normally saying too little was the problem, not saying too much.
Morgan West was getting to him. Morgan West and her pretty blue eyes.
He didn’t like it and it had to stop. Now.
“Nothing.” He finished the beer and put the empty bottle down on the table. “I need to go check the rest of the property.”
“Wait.” She got quickly up from the table and turned to the large and definitely way-too-fancy fridge sitting against the wall. “Dessert? I have some ice cream and some leftover cheesecake I think.”
“No thanks.” It came out gruff and surly, mainly because he wouldn’t have minded a piece of cheesecake, but he had a suspicion that if he sat back down again, he’d soon find himself giving Morgan West all his secrets and he couldn’t have that.
His secrets were his to bear and he didn’t want anyone interfering with them.
She ignored him, pulling open the fridge door and peering inside. “Oh yes, I do have some cheesecake. It’s lemon.” She gave him a glance over her shoulder, that downright gorgeous smile turning her mouth. “You sure you don’t want a piece?”
Oh, he would. He so would. But it was a bad idea, especially with that tug of attraction pulling at him.
“No,” he said, pushing his chair back and getting to his feet. “But thanks for the meal.”
Then he turned and walked out.
* * *
For the—what was it now? The third?—time that evening, Morgan was left watching Zeke’s powerful back as he stalked from the room.
Interesting. Very interesting.
She was sure he would have been partial to some cheesecake because there had been a certain glint in his eye when she’d suggested it. But no, he’d walked out again with only a cursory thanks.
Perhaps he’d gotten wise to her food-oriented interrogation tactics. A pity. He’d been on the verge of revealing something important, she was sure of it.
Morgan grabbed the box with the leftover cheesecake from the fridge and went over to the counter. Cutting herself a big slice, she put it on a plate and then turned around, leaning back against the counter as she held the plate, eating the cheesecake with a fork and musing.
Interesting about the oil. First, he’d wanted to know all about it, then had gotten all up in arms about how the oil company wouldn’t take no for an answer and would definitely come back. It had been the most animated she’d seen him all evening and had sounded almost…personal.
Morgan chewed thoughtfully on her forkful of fluffy deliciousness, going over how Zeke had then shut down before walking out.
Damn, but he was a curious man.
He’d put at least one worry out of her mind, though, that he might want to hold on to his share of the town and grab some oil money for himself. Silas and Damon had said Zeke hadn’t wanted to claim ownership of the town, but she hadn’t been sure until she’d seen the scowl that had crossed his handsome, fierce features at the mere mention of staying.
It was clear he didn’t want to and not just in a casual way. He didn’t want to in an active, I-hate-towns kind of way.
Not unsurprising when everything about him screamed wild mountain hermit.
She ate another forkful of cheesecake, musing once more on where he’d been and why he hadn’t gotten in touch with Silas and Damon. He hadn’t even known his friends had decided to stay in Deep River, and when she’d told him, the oddest expression had crossed his face. He’d looked angry and a little.…lost.
Her heart tightened. She’d always been drawn to taking care of people, which was why she’d become a VPSO. When she’d been a kid, it had been animals. Sick baby rabbits or injured squirrels. Eaglets fallen out of a nest. The odd mink. Once she’d found an abandoned lynx kitten and had brought it home, much to her mother’s horror.
Her mother hadn’t liked the endless procession of small injured animals that appeared in their house and had been impatient with Morgan’s heart full of caring.
But then her mother hadn’t liked Deep River, period, and had left the first chance she got.
Her father, on the other hand, hadn’t cared what animals Morgan had brought home. He’d preferred to bestow most of his attention on his son instead.
It had been fine. He’d been proud of her for becoming a VPSO and although he wasn’t lavish with his praise, he’d liked the way she’d taken care of him after her mother had left. It hadn’t been all bad.
It wasn’t all good either.
Suddenly the cheesecake seemed oversweet, the lemon way too sour, and her stomach way too full.
Irritated with herself, Morgan ignored the thought and stepped away from the counter, deciding to busy herself with cleaning up the kitchen instead.
After that was done, she got another piece of cheesecake out of the fridge, put it on a plate, and carried it out into the living room.
Zeke wasn’t there, which meant he was probably still outside checking the property like he’d said or doing whatever it was that strange and wild mountain men did when they were out in the bush in the early evening.
She put the plate on the coffee table near the couch, then contemplated said couch for a second. Zeke wasn’t an injured animal and he certainly couldn’t be said to be vulnerable, yet there was something about him that tugged at her caregiving nature.
Perhaps it was the holes in his clothes and the starkly suspicious look in his black eyes. Or how he seemed like a wild animal wary of human contact.
Yet he’d liked the meal she’d cooked for him, and she hadn’t missed how he’d seem to relax a little as they’d sat together in her kitchen.
She wasn’t sure why she’d liked that so much, because she took care of people in her job every day. Maybe it was that it was more personal, having someone in her kitchen. Someone who hadn’t done something wrong and wasn’t currently experiencing an emergency. Someone who hadn’t seemed to react to her uniform in the slightest.
You like it because he’s a man. And you’re attracted to him.
Ridiculous. Anyway, it didn’t matter why. He’d wanted some cheesecake, so she’d give him some, this time without him having to make conversation, which it was clear he didn’t like. And maybe she’d leave some bedding on the couch for him too. He probably wouldn’t stay—he seemed to be contrary like that, staying when she wanted him to leave, leaving when she wanted him to stay—but she didn’t like the idea of him bedding down in the bush outside of town. Especially when he could have a proper bed right here.
And if nothing else, if he was here, she could keep an eye on him.
Decided, Morgan went to the linen cupboard near the laundry at the back of the house, pulled out a couple of blankets and a spare pillow, then brought the bedding back into the living room and put it neatly on the couch.
Zeke Montgomery was a grumpy bear, and the only thing you could do with a grumpy bear was to play dead and hope like hell they didn’t notice you. You certainly didn’t feed them and make them a bed and try to talk to them.
But even grumpy bears needed taking care of sometimes; she believed that very strongly.
What about you? Who takes care of you?
She didn’t need to be taken care of. She never had. She was fine all on her own.
Morgan adjusted the pillow, arranging the fork on the plate just so. Then, satisfied, she went back into the kitchen and helped herself to another piece of cheesecake.
Chapter 4
The next morning Zeke rolled out of his sleeping bag, got himself dressed, then stepped out of his tent and into some unexpected and blazing sunshine.
He preferred the northern latitudes of Alaska, where it was even more isolated and wild than the country around Deep River, mainly because, even though it was much colder, it rained a whole lot less and rain was something he did not enjoy.
But he had to admit, though it wasn’t overly warm yet, with the promise of the sun shining down on the bush around him and the looming mountains that surrounded the town, there was something…magical about Deep River.
It was cut off from the main highway by the river that separated the town from the road, and the sharp, snow-clad mountains that cradled it gave it a certain sense of isolation. But he liked that. It made the town feel protected from the vagaries of the outside world, self-contained and self-sufficient, like an isolated, rural community should be.
He liked the sense of peace here too, and the deep silence that only came in the most isolated, the most wild of places. A silence broken only by the sounds of nature: the river rushing by, the splash of Chinook salmon leaping as they swam upriver to their spawning grounds, the cry of a bald eagle soaring overhead, on the hunt for some breakfast.
After the difficulties of the day before, all he wanted to do was sit in his camp and enjoy those sounds and listen to that silence, have some time to think through all he’d discovered. But sadly, he had other things to do.
He left the campsite and walked along the trail beside the river that led to the township, his thoughts turning relentlessly back to Morgan yet again, the way they’d been doing ever since he’d left her house the night before.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the dessert she’d left him on the coffee table in her living room or about the little pile of bedding on the couch. Both silent invitations, only one of which he’d taken her up on.
How she’d known he’d wanted that cheesecake, he didn’t know, but he’d very much liked that she’d left him a piece. And it had been as delicious as the meal. However, he’d left the bedding where it was. While he appreciated the wordless offer, he didn’t want to stay in her house, not when he knew he’d already overstayed his welcome.
Plus, he wasn’t sure why she’d do such a thing, especially when initially she hadn’t been happy with him turning up unannounced on her doorstep.
He couldn’t work it out. Did she want something from him? Or had it been simply out of the goodness of her heart? Surely it had to be the former rather than the latter, since people generally didn’t go around offering things for free, at least no people he’d ever met.
Other than his friends of course.
He scowled at the thought of that particular firefight, since that’s what he was heading into right now—confronting the friends he’d essentially abandoned for two months.
They’d want some explanations, though, that was for sure, and he wasn’t quite sure what to tell them.
He didn’t particularly want to reveal that he was the son of Andrew Montgomery, the man who owned the oil company currently trying to get its hands on Deep River’s oil. Or that Cal had come to him just before he’d died because he’d found out about Zeke’s connection and wanted to talk about how to get the oil company to back off.
