Take lunch or dinner? Sloane was asking him for a bite to eat, was she? She wassointo him. Emmitt was about to accept the invite when he remembered something. Tomorrow they were heading over to where Richard and Ava were honeymooning together. The cottage stood on The Homestead’s property, nestled snugly between the double peaks that gave Haven Hills its name.
The whole family planned to be there as they told Richard and Ava about the call hours after the wedding dinner and mere seconds after the couple drove away. Heck, the confetti had barely landed when signs of trouble began.
Emmitt came to a stand as the heaviness of that recollection caved in on him. It wasn’t something he liked to dwell on, but that didn’t make it any less real. “I’ve got something to take care of tomorrow and I’m not sure how long I’ll be. How about we move the flight session to Wednesday?”
Sloane’s shoulders dropped the slightest bit, but she was quick to lift them back into place. Her chin rose a notch too. “That is fine,” she said, her tone nonchalant. “Tell me what time is best for you.” She opened the door and stepped back, shoulders lifting higher than a peacock’s.
She was ticked off, he could tell. Probably because he was prolonging things after throwing such a fit about getting his tours going. As he walked slowly toward the open door of her cabin, Sloane’s gaze stayed fixed on the wall opposite him. She looked more than ticked off—she was offended.
“Hey,” he rasped, coming to a stop before her. Emmitt waited until her blue eyes flitted back to him, an act that was followed by an impatient sigh.
“Yes?”
“I liked that idea you had, about grabbing a bite before or after. How about we make it a late afternoon flight, follow it up by dinner, my treat. I’ve got a place I think you’d like.”
She gave him a one shoulder shrug. “That suits me.”
He grinned. “Okay.” Dang, she was proud. And cute. “How do you say yes in French?”
“Oui,” she said.
“Oh yeah, that’s right.Oui.” Emmitt wanted to do a palm slap to his head at the familiar translation.Everyoneknew that. “I’ll pick you up at 3:00. I keep the chopper on The Homestead’s property just a couple miles north of here.”
“Fine. I will see you then, Mr. Duran.” She gave a subtle nod toward the open door.
And as he walked down the cabin’s porch steps, the door closing quietly behind him, Emmitt repeated her final words. “Mr. Duran?” He thought she was finally warming up to him. Looked like he still had a long way to go.
Chapter 6
Sloane might have thought she was ready for her first “flight instruction” with Emmitt, but as she darted her gaze over the gears, meters, and gadgets between them, sprigs of nervous anticipation sprouted within her.
Of all the flying she’d done in her lifetime, Sloane had yet to step foot inside the cab of a helicopter. The bulbous window surrounding the front seat felt endless, making it seem as if there was really nothing at all between her and the land that would soon be thousands of feet below.
“Here’s your headset,” came Emmitt’s deep voice.
She glanced over, noticing the headphones he wore before glancing down at the set he held out.
“It’s so we can communicate over all the noise,” he explained.
Sloane nodded. “But of course,” she said, taking the set and placing it on her head.
“I’m just getting an update on the weather conditions.” This time his voice came in through the headphones covering her ears, the low tenor causing a dose of warmth to swirl in her tummy.
Emmitt rubbed his palms together, a grin pulling at the corners of his lips. “All clear.”
The sound of the engine, coupled with the whirring beat of the blades, filled the rather spacious cab with an electric hum. And though the headphones buffered some of the noise, the vibration pulsing through her chest heightened the nerves revving inside her.
Sloane watched him prepare for liftoff, recalling clips from the instruction video along the way. She hadn’t doubted the man knew what he was doing; he’d earned his pilot license, after all. But as the chopper lifted off the ground at last, tilting beneath the inertia of those spinning blades, she realized how complicated the task really was. The motion generated such intense power that it would surely spin the aircraft into oblivion if the operator wasn’t countering that force every step of the way. This wasn’t just any skill—it was a live-or-die skillset, and Sloane only hoped Emmitt took that as seriously as he proclaimed.
They were lifting higher now, and then higher still. Another charge of nerves rushed through her in hot alarm. This could be dangerous. Had she not taken that into account?
“Nice and level,” Emmitt mumbled as he skillfully balanced the aircraft. “Always trending toward perfection.” He shifted direction, aiming them in a forward motion now. “Every tiny correction keeps us from having to make bigger corrections.”
After a quiet moment, he listed off a few numbers, mentioned something about knots—which she recalled from the video—and then spared a slight glance in her direction. “Are you doing alright?”
Sloane gave that some thought as she glanced down at the shrinking inn below, and the frosted grounds surrounding The Homestead. “Oh, there is the barn,” she said, spotting the red structure and the nearby corral. Three horses chased one another in circles, their long necks bobbing with each graceful stride.
“Right,” Emmitt said. “We offer guided trail rides at the inn. Katie and Joe, our horse experts, even teach a Little Broncos course for the kids. Lucas, my soon-to-be nephew, plans to take the course come spring. You should see how excited he is.”
