Texas Christmas. Nancy Robards Thompson
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disappointment washed over her, through her. But then she bucked up and reminded herself how busy she was going to be for the foreseeable future.
It was for the best.
But he was so darn gorgeous.
Oh, well.
She made her way off the plane and into the terminal. She just had to pick up her luggage at baggage claim, and then a taxi would take her home where she could sleep in her own bed for the first time in two weeks. If seeing Robert Macintyre again wasn’t an option, that sounded like the next most heavenly prospect.
“Hey, I know you,” said an unfamiliar, belligerent voice behind her.
Pepper tensed but kept walking without looking back. The voice didn’t belong to Robert Macintyre. She knew that without turning around. This man sounded much gravellier and quarrelsome. The person might not even be talking to her.
Just keep walking.
But then there was a hand on her arm. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”
Pepper turned around to the pig-nosed, scarlet face of a man who had to weigh at least three hundred pounds. He seemed as wide as he was tall. His breath was an alcoholic cloud, and his eyes were hooded and bloodshot. She sidestepped out of his grasp and wheeled her carry-on between them. As if that would help.
She looked around the terminal, but it was mostly empty. At this late hour the only life seemed to be the janitorial staff and other passengers who were disembarking from the flight she’d been on, and they seemed not to notice—or not to care—that the drunk man was hassling her.
“You’re the daughter of that Merriweather bastard, aren’t you?”
“Sir, it’s late. I’m sorry, I need to go meet the person who is picking me up.”
The taxi driver could wait all night, of course, but Mr. Drunk-and-Nasty didn’t need to know that. Pepper turned and tried to walk away.
“I’m not finished with you,” the man yelled after her. “Your daddy stole my money, little girl. Every single cent of my savings and retirement. But you were sitting up there like a princess in first class, weren’t you?”
Pepper was paralyzed and nauseated. Rooted to the spot. She wanted to tell him No, you’re mistaken. It’s all a big misunderstanding that will be sorted out once my father gets his day in court. But the words wouldn’t leave her throat.
“How do you sleep at night living like royalty when I may not even be able to feed my family?” The man reached out and shoved Pepper and she landed against something firm and warm. In a similar motion as he had handled her carry-on, Robert Macintyre whisked Pepper behind him and was staring down the man.
“Did you hear the lady, sir?” The emphasis in the way he said sir was less polite and more of a power play. It helped that Robert seemed to hulk and tower over the squat man. “She needs to leave now. She has people waiting for her. It’s rude to keep people waiting. So don’t detain her and everything will be fine. Okay?”
The man didn’t say anything else. He simply turned and staggered toward the exit and the small crowd of onlookers that had gathered after Robert had confronted the man began to disperse.
When most everyone was out of sight, Pepper started shaking, but she finally found her voice.
“Thank you for that,” she said meekly. “I had really hoped there wouldn’t be any trouble. But...”
She braced herself for the inevitable request for an explanation, but all Rob said was, “I will stay with you until you meet whoever is picking you up.”
“Thank you, but that’s not necessary. I still have to go to baggage claim. Security will be there. I should be fine. But thank you.”
“I’ll go with you to baggage claim. That guy seemed pretty looped. I don’t want you to take a chance.”
Pepper didn’t refuse. How could she? So, they walked side by side through the ghost town of an airport, passing all the closed shops, restaurants and newsstands until they finally found their way to baggage claim.
Pepper was relieved when she didn’t see Mr. Drunk-and-Nasty at the baggage carousel.
“He’s gone,” Pepper said. “I should be fine now. Good night, Mr. Macintyre.”
“No, I’ll wait with you until your ride is here.”
She sighed, realizing the only way he was going to understand was if she told him the truth.
“I really appreciate your help. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you back there. But I’m taking a cab home. Nobody is meeting me. I’ll just go—”
“I’m happy to give you a ride home,” Robert persisted. “My truck is parked in the garage.”
The guy might have been a social recluse, but he certainly was relentless. Equal parts Southern gentleman and bulldog with his jaws locked, refusing to let go. And it was that slow-boiling persistence—and his gorgeous, hulking presence—that thrilled her.
He might have been at the top of everyone’s invitation list, but she didn’t know him and he didn’t seem to know her, either. Unless it was an act. What better time to exact revenge on the daughter of the man who was at the top of everyone’s most-hated list? There was no way in hell she was getting into the car with him at three o’clock in the morning.
As she wheeled her bags out to the taxi stand at ground transportation, there wasn’t a cab in sight.
Dammit.
“I really appreciate your help. No offense but I don’t know you, and it’s three o’clock in the morning. So, I’ll wait for a taxi.”
He nodded. “Fair enough.” But he didn’t move.
“I do want you to know how grateful I am for your help.”
“In that case, I suppose I’ll have to wait with you until a cab comes.”
At this time of night, that could take an hour. She looked around the desolate area. If he was going to kill her or hurt her he could’ve already made his move. The guy was twice her size and there was no one around to hear her protests. And what if he left and Mr. Drunk-and-Nasty came back? Then what?
Suddenly, taking the red-eye to save money and to avoid the crowded morning flights didn’t seem like such a smart idea. And stubbornly refusing the only viable ride home seemed even dumber.
“I live in Celebration,” she said. “Are you sure you’re up for the drive?”
“I live not too far from Celebration myself. Come on. The car is this way.”
He stopped. “You know, I don’t blame you for being hesitant to get into the car with me—not after that crazy guy in the airport. And it’s just the way the world is these days. I have a sister. If she were in your shoes right now, I can’t say I’d want her to get in the car with some strange guy at three o’clock in the morning.” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, opened it and handed her a business card and his cell phone.
“What’s this?”
“Why don’t you use my phone to call a friend or family member and tell them to expect you in no less than thirty minutes? You have my name there on the card. My cell number will register on their phone.”
She must’ve been giving him a weird look because he shrugged and said, “Hey, it’s all I’ve got. Unless you can think of a better idea.”
He held out his driver’s license for her to see and pointed to it. “See, face on the license matches the face on the man. Name on the license matches the name on the card. Feel better?”
She glanced down at the card. Sure enough, it was engraved with the name Robert Macintyre. She traced her finger over the gold-embossed Macintyre Enterprises and Macintyre Family Foundation logos.