Page 14 of Aviator
She meets my gaze head-on, and the flinty determination in her eyes does something to me that I’d rather not examine. “I said whatever it takes, and I meant it.” She tucks her hair behind her ear impatiently, the glittery gold rings on her fingers flashing.
I hold back a snort. Barely. Girl has another thing coming. Getting to the cabin will be easy. It’s searching around it that’ll be her reckoning. Knee-deep snow, dropping temps, and increasingly terrible visibility will make the experience interesting, and that’s not to mention the likelihood that this will all be for nothing. Because if Jamie doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be. Hell, now that I’m committed to this, at least watching her fail will be somewhat entertaining.
She’ll probably give up after a couple hours, and we’ll head back. Easy money.
Right?
I give Kenna a shrug. “It’s your dime.”
Finally, Lawrence’s harried voice fills my ear. “Darcy here. How can I help you?”
“Hey, Darce, it’s Dean.”
“Hey, Dean. How can I help you?”
“Dean? Everything okay with Luke?” I hear Margaret’s voice in the background.
“Yeah, he’s just fine. This is about a personal favor. There’s a. . . woman who needs to charter a last-minute flight for tomorrow. She’ll need a single engine, probably the Robison R44, if it’s available, for the full day. Do you think we could swing that?”
I assume—okay, maybe I hope—that he’ll give me a resounding no, considering the weather. But of course, I’m not that lucky.
“Sure, I think we can make that work,” he says after a moment’s contemplation. “When do you need to leave?”
“As soon as possible. Tomorrow morning?” May as well get this over with before the storm really hits.
Lawrence hums. I can practically hear theca-chingthat must be sounding in his head over the phone. “Alrighty, we’ll have it ready to go. Can I email you the paperwork for the client to fill out? What’s the destination?”
“Yeah, that’ll work.” I give him Kenna’s email as she recites it to me. “A cabin on the north side of Thunderhead Mountain. Weather going to hold off?” I ask hopefully.
There’s a long pause, and I glance at my phone to see if it’s disconnected. Then Lawrence says, “North side?”
I check with Kenna and give him a more accurate location. “Something wrong?” I ask hopefully.
Lawrence clears his throat. “No, no. Of course not. Did—um, did the paperwork go through?”
When she confirms she’s received it, I tell Lawrence I’ll see him in the morning.
Kenna chats with Gramps as she fills out the paperwork on her phone, then pushes to her feet. “Well, I appreciate your. . . hospitality.” Is that a smile I hear in her voice? Damn woman doesn’t seem to be intimidated. I nearly snort. If she wants to put up with me, that’s her own damn problem. Maybe I’ll enjoy being in that cramped cockpit with her. But only a little. At least enough to see just how far I can ruffle those pretty feathers of hers. She continues, “But I’d better get some sleep. What time and where can I meet you tomorrow?”
“You staying at the resort?” Gramps interrupts before I can shoo her ass away.
The space between Kenna’s brow furrows, and she twists that pretty little mouth to the side. “I’m not real sure yet. I haven’t had time to get a room anywhere. I drove here straight from my place near Charlotte and was hoping they’d have rooms available.”
“During tourist season? I doubt it.” Gramps gives me the side eye when I speak, but I ignore him. The fact that she’s still here at all is all his fault. I should have put him in an old folk’s home. I try to communicate that with a pointed look, but he only smiles.
Asshole.
Kenna gives me a patient smile that only makes my frown intensify. What would it take to actually get under her skin? Most women turn tail and run the second I give them a scathing response, like the woman at the bar the other night, but not this one. No, Kenna treats me like a wounded puppy she can rehabilitate with kindness and some gentle pets, like that damn cat purring on Gramps’ chest. Well, screw that. A long day with me will convince her otherwise because the alternative is that I’ll have to come to the realization that there’s someone who can put up with my shit, and that’s out of the question.
As though she can read my mind, Kenna says, “Then I’ll go the next town over. I’m sure I’ll find something. Really, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
I roll my eyes. Not only is she not going to listen to reason, but she also thinks the next twenty-four hours will be a walk in the park. I can’t wait until she gets out into this storm and realizes how truly delusional she is. I open my mouth to say something—probably to get the hell out—but Gramps beats me to it.
“She can stay here,” Gramps tells me in that authoritative voice of his.
“No. Absolutely not,” I interject. The sooner she leaves, the better.
“Are you sure?” Kenna asks, looking back and forth between Gramps and me.
