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Was it true that he wanted to win her back? Lark shut down the question as soon as it floated to the top of her thoughts.
“If the offer is still open, I’ll accept the ride home,” she said instead, keeping her gaze on the gray metal aircraft whose rotors were already in motion.
“Good. It’ll be safer for everyone this way. Your sisters, too.” Leaning into the seat beside her, he withdrew his cell phone and thumbed a text. “I’m letting the pilot know she can take off as soon as we’re on board.”
A moment later, the SUV pulled to a stop near the helicopter that sat on private property behind the courthouse. She guessed it hadn’t been difficult for Gibson to obtain permission to land there from the owner. Just like with Officer Kincaid, a signed jersey went a long way in getting the hockey star whatever he wanted in life.
Right now, it was tough to be upset about that because she wanted no part of facing the sports media after the eventful first day of the probate hearing. After texting her sisters once more, she took a deep breath as Gibson opened the passenger side rear door for them to exit.
“Thank you for arranging this, Gibson.” The last part of the sentence was shouted, the noise of the helicopter blades drowning out all other sounds.
Taking his hand, Lark stepped from the vehicle. He didn’t let go as he led her a few steps to a set of flip-down stairs leading into the chopper.
“It’s my fault that all the media are on site,” he returned, his own voice only slightly raised to be heard over the racket from the engine. “So it’s only fair that I find a way to get us out of here.”
Lark stepped into the aircraft and dropped into a sideways-facing seat while Gibson raised the stairs and pulled the door shut behind them, turning the lock mechanism for safety.
Immediately, the aircraft ascended. Gibson rocked on his heels for a moment but righted himself easily before lowering into the spot beside her. He passed her a headset and microphone before strapping one into place on his own head.
Lark fumbled with the mechanism, but a moment later, she could hear Gibson’s voice through it. “Testing. Testing.”
She gave him a thumb-up while he buckled his seat belt and then double-checked that hers was locked.
The small gesture of simple caring reminded her of all the ways he’d confused and stirred her emotions today. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she spoke into her microphone as she watched the shapes on the ground move as one big shadow toward the spot where their helicopter had been.
“I can hear you,” she said over a dry throat. “And I’m very ready to go home.”
Gibson was quiet for so long that she wondered if he’d heard her. But then, swinging her attention back to him, she saw he watched her intently, his brow furrowed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, grateful that they were in the air and not on the ground near all those questioning eyes.
“I’m not sure going home is the best idea, Lark. The media will be waiting at the edge of the property. Particularly if they see you’re there.”
Spirits sinking fast, she clenched her hands into fists.
“Of course they will be,” she muttered, wondering how she’d get through this week until the hearing ended. “I should warn my mother—”
Taking her phone from her bag again, Gibson stopped her with one hand covering hers.
“In a minute.” A lopsided, apologetic smile lifted his lips. “Before you do that, I want you to think about how returning to Crooked Elm will only bring all of that crowd from the courthouse to your doorstep.”
Anger and dismay warred in her gut. “So what do you suggest I do, Gibson? I don’t have that many options.”
The roar of the engine and the rotor were dulled through the headset so that Lark could hear her own breathing. Her pulse pounding in her ears with the stress of the day.
“Come with me to a private retreat in the mountains.” His voice was a silky rasp in her ear, the words enticing her when they shouldn’t. “We can escape all the media.”
The knots in her stomach suddenly didn’t feel like the result of her too-emotional day. Right now, the tension there turned sensual.
She guessed that her eyes reflected those feelings too, because Gibson’s dark gaze went molten as he looked at her.
“I don’t know,” she half whispered the words, more unsure of what tomorrow would bring than she was about what shewanted.
Desire for this man still ran through her veins like he had space reserved in every blood cell.
“Just for one night, until we can make arrangements for security,” he urged, his broad palm sliding over to land on her knee. His thumb grazing her thigh.
Call her weak. Call her susceptible to the Gibson Vaughn charm. But she didn’t have a prayer of saying no after the day she’d had.
