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“Looking for someone?” a woman’s voice asked to his left.
Glancing down, he saw Jennifer Barclay, Lark’s mother.
“So good to see you, er, Mrs. Barclay.” He’d briefly called this woman “Mom” when he and Lark had been married. While Lark had been comfortable calling his mother by her first name, Gibson had opted to move right to the more familial name for her mother. “And yes, I was looking for Lark.”
“I had the feeling you were.” She beamed, her expression happy and her cheeks glowing. No doubt she was pleased to have mended the rift with Jessamyn. “She asked me to let you know that she’s waiting for you by the creek. She seemed to think you’d know where she meant.”
Lark had asked to see him?
“I do.” He told himself it might not mean anything. Maybe she only wished to say goodbye privately. But he couldn’t help hoping that this could be a sign she wanted something more. “Before I talk to her though, do you have any advice for winning her back? That is, if I promise to be a much better partner for her in the future?”
He had no way of knowing what her mother thought of him and the role he’d played in their breakup. But he wasn’t going to shy away anymore from asking for help when he needed it. And there was nothing more important to him now than telling Lark how much he wanted to try again.
Nearby, a server recruited from the Cowboy Kitchen strolled past with a wooden tray of champagne glasses. Lark’s mom took one, but Gibson wasn’t ready to celebrate yet.
“Gibson, I always thought you were a good balance for Lark.” She lay a hand on his arm as if she could impress her thoughts on him. “Before she met you, she worked nonstop, as if she needed permission to have fun. But when you were together, I saw her take time away for vacations with you and for road trips to your games.”
He’d forgotten about that. Once he’d moved to the Los Angeles team and taken on its problems as his own, his marriage had suffered.
“I appreciate you saying that.” His gaze lifted toward the path to the feeder creek for the White River, where Lark waited for him even now. “I hope I can convince her to give me another chance.”
“I won’t claim to be an expert on love, but I do know my daughter.” Mrs. Barclay smiled, her face shifting in a way that made the resemblance to her oldest daughter clear. “And I can’t help but think you should speak from the heart when you talk to her. Lark has enough practicality in her life. She deserves to be wooed with romance and flowers. A man who sees past her tough exterior to the sweet and vulnerable woman beneath.”
It was sound advice, and it settled around him with a new rightness. He’d gotten to know Lark better this week too, and he’d been reminded of her deeply tender side. She’d talked to his mom for almost an hour about her doll collection, patiently listening to the stories from Stephanie Vaughn’s childhood to learn how she’d acquired each one. And she’d done it while she’d had every right to be angry with him, right after she’d learned that he hadn’t confided in her about the severity of his mom’s disease progression.
“You’re right.” Leaning down, he kissed his former mother-in-law on the cheek—hopefully soon to be his current and forever mother-in-law. “I’m going to do just that.”
Spinning away, he started toward the tree line to find Lark.
Trailing a long blade of feathery reed grass across the surface of the creek, Lark had started to get nervous Gibson wasn’t coming when she finally heard the sound of pine needles crunching underfoot.
Branches slapping against a body moving through them.
She tensed, equal parts hope and anxiety twisting her insides. Turning, she spotted Gibson in his dark suit and white shirt just a few yards from her. Through the trees behind him, she could still see the wedding party on the lawn. The white canopy set up for the meal with a few picnic tables on loan. The huge floral arbor where Jessamyn had said her vows.
The music carried easily, upbeat country tunes but no vocals. Later, her sister and Ryder would test their country waltzing skills, but for now, the guests milled around with cocktails and passed hors d’oeuvres.
“You’re going to ruin your shoes,” Gibson warned her, his dark gaze going to her feet where she stood in the tall grass.
“Nope.” Lifting the hem of her dress, she showed him a pair of her old cowboy boots. “I grabbed a pair of these from the porch before I walked here.”
“Very practical,” he admitted, his attention shifting to her hand where she still held the long reed grass. “But you’re still going to get your gown wet if you’re not careful.”
Releasing the slender reed, she wiped her hands together and shrugged. “Maybe. But at least I got through the ceremony looking like I belonged in this dress. I don’t think Jessamyn will be surprised if I return with a few wrinkles.”
“You can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the girl?”
She smiled. “Something like that.” Her smile faded again as she realized... “Although technically, I’m supposed to leave this part of the country tomorrow.”
“I want to speak to you about that.” He took a step closer to her, his big body parting the reed grasses until he stood toe-to-toe with her.
Her breath caught at his nearness, the cedar and sandalwood scent of his aftershave teasing her nostrils. Her heartbeat jumped erratically.
“Actually, it was me who wanted to talk to you regarding that. My mother must have told you?” Nervous, she brushed one palm along the top of the fluffy reed grass, the tiny filaments tickling her skin.
He frowned. “She told me where to find you but didn’t say what you wanted.”
Hadn’t she told her mother that she hoped to have another chance with Gibson? But then, Jennifer Barclay had displayed a huge amount of confidence in Lark and her sisters this weekend. It had been nice when Mom talked about being proud of them, touching a part of her soul she hadn’t realized had been hungry to hear words like that.
