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“You can go inside,” Fleur urged her as they heard the SUV tires on the gravel driveway in front of the house. “We’ll make sure they know they have to stay off the property.”
Shaking her head, Lark rolled up her sleeves, preparing for a showdown.
“There’s no need. They want a story? It’s long past time I gave them a good one.”
Gibson was in the middle of a teleconference meeting with his newly hired ranch manager when his phone vibrated for the third time in a row. And even though he hadn’t begun true ranch operations yet, the meeting was important if he ever wanted to get his new business off the ground.
He’d carefully researched the market for a bison ranch and found a good opportunity for profit. Plus, he admired the majestic beasts and looked forward to working with them.
“Will you excuse me for a minute?” he asked the new hire as he leaned back from the workspace he’d set up at the dining room table.
With so much of the house under construction to be comfortable for his mother’s arrival, Gibson hadn’t bothered to furnish much of the upstairs, preferring to wait until the dust settled on the renovations.
“Sure thing,” Jackson Daly tipped the brim of his Stetson at him on the other end of the video call. “Though I’ve got enough to keep me busy until next week’s meeting.”
“Sounds good to me.” Gibson had requested revenue projections for the business plan he was putting together for a few friends who had expressed interest in investing. “Thanks, Jackson.”
After closing out of the app on his laptop screen, Gibson pressed the connect button on the call from—surprise, surprise—his agent.
Again.
“Dex, I’m still committed to starting the ranch.” He told himself as much every day, even though the project had a huge chance of flopping.
If he ever wanted to conquer the fear of failure—of losing—he couldn’t spend his whole life only taking on things that he was good at.
“Are you watching the news?” Dex blurted, his voice sounding tenser than normal. Gibson could hear a phone ringing along with what sounded like multiple news feeds running in the background.
A sea of talking heads.
“Of course not. I’m working, and even if I weren’t...” Gibson leaned far back in the ergonomic desk chair he’d bought for his long frame, tilting the neck rest so he stared up at the sleek chrome light fixture hanging over the blond wood table. “You know I didn’t check out the sports headlines even when I was playing—”
“Not the sports news. Turn on your local network affiliate. They’ve been promoting the hell out of a story with a clip of your ex-wife. It’ll be on as soon as they return from commercial.”
Gibson tipped forward so quickly he nearly fell out of the chair. “They’re back to chasing Lark around town?”
Pounding one fist on the table, he used his other to reach for the television remote that controlled a big screen across the great room above the fireplace. He cursed the media hounds the whole time for interfering in his personal life again, after he’d made some progress with Lark.
“From the sound bite they keep showing, it sure didn’t look like she was trying to avoid them this time.” Dex’s words sounded muffled, as if he were covering the phone or maybe sandwiching it between his chin and shoulder. The guy juggled too much, but for once, Gibson appreciated the heads-up considering he was to blame for bringing the spotlight with him to Catamount.
Jabbing a few buttons to find the right channel, Gibson blasted the volume on the remote in time to see Lark’s pretty face fill the television screen. Her sexy dark braid lay coiled on one shoulder bared by a white tank dress as she stood in front of the Crooked Elm Ranch house. Her expression was serious as she looked directly into the camera.
“...because since when does reporting on the activities of elite athletes’ wives, girlfriends and exes constitute sports news?” Lark had taken the microphone out of the hand of whoever had been trying to interview her. She moved backward now as someone reached into the frame to try to retrieve it. Lark’s forest-green eyes flashed with a fire Gibson remembered well from their arguments. And from other times...
She continued now, “If you’re going to cover women, why not give camera time to actual women athletes who are overlooked by the media and paid far less than their male counterparts?”
The camera work turned awkward then, the lens bouncing as whoever carried the video recorder moved to forcibly take the mic out of Lark’s hands. But not before Lark could be heard saying, “Do you know how many professional women’s teams there are in Los Angeles where I live? And do you know how many more times I made your stupid news feed over talented, trained women who deserve—”
The video and audio ended abruptly, the local anchor appearing on the screen with a still image from the clip behind one shoulder labeled “Gibson Vaughn’s Ex Speaks Out.”
Indignation on her behalf fired through him. They couldn’t even give her the credit of her own name under her photo? But the local anchor moved quickly to another story, leaving Gibson to wonder when—and how—they’d obtained a clip that clearly hadn’t been shot by their own team.
More than that, his thoughts were at Crooked Elm with Lark. Was she upset about the encounter? Pleased? She’d definitely taken the offensive this time, and he couldn’t be prouder of her about that. He remembered too well how frustrated the media had made her when they’d been married.
“Good for her,” Gibson mused aloud, almost forgetting he had Dex on the phone in the onslaught of thoughts about Lark. She’d looked sexy as hell in that clip. “Thanks for the heads-up about this.”
“I didn’t call just to give you a heads-up.” Again, a phone rang in the background of wherever Dex was sitting, a racket all around the guy. “I’m getting bombarded with opportunities for you. Teams that think you must be considering a comeback if Lark is putting herself in the spotlight.”
Shoulders slumping, Gibson didn’t know what to say to that other than that tired old refrain. “Not going to happen.”
