Always Valentine's Day. Kristin HardyЧитать онлайн книгу.
remembering the scent of her skin. Walking away when she’d been heated and avid against him had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. And she remembered it, too. He saw those green eyes darken before she shook her head and turned away.
“I don’t know why I’m even bothering talking to you,” she muttered.
“Because it’s a gorgeous morning. We’re in an incredible place. You’re too smart to spend the day pouting.”
“I don’t pout,” she returned in outrage.
“My mistake,” he said. “Isn’t that the van?” He pointed toward the minibus where Carter and Molly waited, already inside.
At the airstrip, they pulled up to an unprepossessing vinyl-sided building with a green sign that said Taku Glacier Excursions. As soon as the minibus doors opened, a staffer who looked like she was fourteen—if she was lucky—stepped on board. “Hi, everyone,” she said as they rose. “I’m Amy.”
Carter rose. “I’m Carter Hayes, the one who rented the plane. We’ve brought along a couple more people than we were planning, but it shouldn’t be an issue. There’s room.”
“Actually,” she shifted uncomfortably, “we’ve sort of got a problem.”
“We?” Carter repeated. “What kind of problem do we have?”
“Uh, the plane’s not here.”
Carter’s brows lowered a fraction. “I had my assistant pay for it a month ago. What do you mean it’s not here?”
The girl coughed. “A couple of climbers got lost on Denali. There’s a big search under way, and the, uh, plane that was supposed to take you to the glaciers is part of it. We’ve got a substitute, though,” she rushed to add. “A local ’copter pilot, Buck Matthews, is going to take you up.”
Buck Matthews, Larkin thought, looking out on the pads where the helicopters crouched like metal and Plexiglas dragonflies. Perfect. “Dad, maybe we ought to skip it.”
“I think you’ll really like the helicopter,” Amy told her. “It’s better than the plane because you can hover over anything you want to see. And Buck’s been flying for years. He really knows the area. Oh—” she paused “—you don’t have any problems with animals, right?” Puzzled, they shook their heads and Amy exhaled in relief. “Great, let’s get you into some glacier boots, and then you can follow me out to the helicopter pad.”
The boots were black and puffy and slipped over their regular shoes. Larkin sensed rather than heard Christopher sit on the bench beside her as she strapped hers on.
“It’s a good look for you,” he said. “Very stylish.”
She scowled at him and rose to follow Amy out to the helicopter pad.
“It kind of gives you that astronaut experience, doesn’t it?” Christopher asked. When she didn’t answer, he leaned in. “You’re going to have to break down and talk to me sometime.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” she said, and cursed herself the minute the words were out of her mouth.
His grin flashed. “Like I said.” He winked as he walked past her.
The closer they got to the helicopter, the more uneasy Larkin became. She’d been expecting a nice twin-engine Cessna with individual seats. Instead, they had a helicopter that looked like it had been borrowed from a TV traffic report team in Anchorage.
Assuming Anchorage had anything remotely resembling traffic.
The aircraft sat on the pad, doors open. A stocky, bearded man stood beside it, looking large enough to fill it entirely himself. Little backward opening doors on either side gave access to a backseat barely worthy of the name. On the grass strip that ran between the tarmac and the landing pad, a gray brown mutt nosed around, which pretty much said all she needed to know about the professionalism of the operation.
“This is Buck,” Amy said.
“Y’all ready to fly?” He nodded at the helicopter.
“In there?” Larkin asked faintly. “Are you sure we’re all going to fit?” The backseat looked barely wide enough to accommodate two people, let alone three.
He winked. “You’ll get to know each other up close and personal.”
Larkin glanced over to see Carter and Molly.
And Christopher.
Up close and personal.
“Molly, do you want the front seat?” Carter asked.
“Nope.” Buck shook his head. “That’s where Scout rides.” He whistled, and the dog—more of a hound, really—came loping over, tongue out and a big doggy grin on his face.
“No.” Stubbornness glimmered in Carter’s eyes. “The front seat is for one of us. The dog stays here.”
“Nope,” Buck said genially. “Scout always flies with me. If you want to go, he goes, up front. Unless you want him in the backseat with all of you,” he added.
Molly laughed and bent over to rub Scout’s ears. “I don’t mind giving him the front seat. A flight over the glaciers with a big old dog, now that’s an adventure,” she said. “Look at this harness you’ve got, boy. You’re all dressed up and ready to go.”
Amy gave a pained smile. “Buck is helping us out here, sir. It’s the only way we can get you up to the glaciers.”
“We’re here,” Christopher said. “I’d say give it a try.”
“If you’re not completely happy with the excursion,” Amy added, “we’ll refund your money.”
“We’ll see,” Carter grumbled, but he was watching Molly make friends with Scout, who seemed very close to being in love.
Larkin only wished she was feeling so good about it. “I’ll stay here. All four of us can’t possibly squeeze into that backseat. There’s no room.”
Buck looked them over. “Sure there is. None of you’s too wide. It’ll just be cozy. Hop in.”
Cozy. Exactly what Larkin wanted. She heard a smothered laugh and glanced over to see Christopher watching her.
“I’ll take the inside seat. You have the window,” Carter told Molly.
“Of course not. You were the one who paid for the trip. You should sit by the window.”
“I’m taller than you are,” he argued. “You sit on the inside, you won’t see a thing. Take the window.”
Molly folded her arms. “Only if you take it on the way back.”
“You drive a hard bargain.”
“Get used to it,” she returned.
He considered. “I guess I’ll have to.”
Christopher glanced over at Larkin. “I’ll give you the window seat, too,” he told her. “Just to show you chivalry’s alive and well in Alaska.”
“Gee, I’m so relieved.” She watched him fold his long body into the small space and looked at the postage-stamp patch of seat that remained. Right next to the door.
“Need a hand?” Christopher asked.
“I can do it myself.” Reluctantly, she raised a clunky boot to the threshold of the cabin, hoisting herself in and settling back into the alarmingly small space. There was no way to do it halfway. Even staying as close to the edge as she could, she was still unable to keep from touching Christopher.
“All right, over all the way,” Buck ordered. “I gotta shut the door.”
She wasn’t about to look at Christopher and see the humor that she knew would be dancing in his eyes.