Kidnapped At Christmas. Barb Han

“But anything about this guy gives you pause and I’m only two blocks away. I can be at the restaurant in less than five minutes.” Stephanie snapped her fingers.

      Meg froze as an awkward thought struck. “What if he doesn’t remember me?”

      “It’s only been a year, Meg. You said that he’d been clear about not being the type to settle down, but I seriously doubt you’d spend time with anyone who was that much of a jerk.” Stephanie jangled her keys. “Besides, I’m following you in my car in case you both remember all too well and decide to get to know each other again while I babysit.” Stephanie wiggled her eyebrows.

      Meg held back the laugh trying to force its way out of her throat. Wyatt Jackson didn’t want anything to do with her.

      “I had to email him half a dozen times in order to get a response. If he remembers me at all from a year ago, he obviously wasn’t too impressed.” Meg secured Aubrey in her car seat in Stephanie’s car. The baby stretched but didn’t wake. She’d had a bottle twenty minutes ago so, fingers crossed, that should buy Meg a couple of hours to do what she should’ve done months ago before the baby arrived. Shoving the guilt aside, she climbed into the driver’s seat.

      Meg glanced around with that awful feeling of someone watching her. Her stress levels were already on an upward trajectory and this made it worse. It was probably nothing more than the thought of facing her baby’s father that had her insides braided and the tiny hairs on her arms standing at attention. Or maybe it was the time of year. The holidays. The cold. The memories...

      Meg glanced at the rearview. No one was there. She started the vehicle.

      Wyatt Jackson was just a man like any other. This wasn’t the time for her brain to point out that he was intelligent, successful and unnervingly gorgeous. In retrospect, the man seemed almost superhuman to her. But then, he’d given her the absolute best gift in her life, her daughter, and that was likely the reason she’d built him up so much in her mind.

      Meg checked the rearview one more time, making sure that Stephanie had cleared the parking spot behind her. She glanced at the backup camera as she pressed the gas pedal. Something crossed the corner of the screen.

      Heart jackhammering, she touched the brake.

      What was back there? An animal?

      A tiny little thing darted toward the trees, yellow stripes streaking past the driver’s side. It was just a cat, barely more than a kitten.

      Hands shaking, Meg white-knuckled the steering wheel, trying to calm her rattled nerves by sheer force of will.

      There was nothing to be afraid of.

       Right?

      * * *

      CHRISTMAS MIGHT ONLY be weeks away, but the holidays were something Wyatt Jackson would have no trouble skipping over altogether. New Year’s was more his style with its all-night partying and the attitude of ringing in the New Year with free-flowing booze and a carefree attitude.

      Speaking of which, receiving an email from the blond-haired beauty Wyatt had spent time with last year had caught him off guard. She’d made it look easy to ignore his repeated phone calls this time last year, so he’d returned the favor by deleting her messages when she’d first contacted him.

      In fact, in the past twelve months he’d done his level best to forget she existed. Although part of him had known that would be impossible given that he couldn’t seem to shake the feel of her soft skin on his fingertips, her intellect or the easy way she made him laugh.

      The last email from Meg had seemed urgent, and to make matters even more interesting Maverick Mike Butler’s lawyer had been hot on Wyatt’s tail to get him to come to Cattle Barge. Mike Butler had been one of Texas’s most colorful citizens. A billionaire cattle rancher who’d been murdered on his own property this summer had sent the media into a feeding frenzy.

      Ed Staples, the family’s lawyer, had seemed downright shocked that Wyatt already knew he was Mike Butler’s illegitimate son. Probably because Wyatt hadn’t made a single attempt to contact the estate—and thereby claim his right to the Butler fortune. Wyatt had made a success of himself on his own terms and had no need for a handout from the family who’d left his mother pregnant and destitute.

      The first thing Wyatt had noticed when he hit Cattle Barge city limits was the swarm of media people. The town was still overrun months after Butler’s murder, although reporters were starting to write fluff. News about the famous will being read on Christmas Eve splashed across headlines on every outlet. Maverick Mike could take his money and shove it up his...

      Wyatt realized he’d white-knuckled the steering wheel and laughed at himself. The holidays had soured his mood, and he had no plans to let emotions get in the way of what he hoped would be a hot reunion between him and the blonde. Besides, he couldn’t imagine that Maverick Mike’s legitimate kids would welcome him with open arms. Making the Butler heirs uncomfortable wasn’t the main reason Wyatt had hit the highway leading to Cattle Barge. He saw it more as a fringe benefit.

      Wyatt knew the reason he’d been summoned, and to say he had mixed feelings about Maverick Mike Butler being his father was a lot like saying ghost peppers burned the tongue. Was he a Butler? His mother had said so, but in his heart he could never be connected to the man who’d walked away from her, from him.

      Wyatt didn’t want the man’s money. His twenty-fifth Tiko Taco restaurant was about to open and he didn’t need a handout from anyone. Wyatt had learned how to work hard for his successes and he enjoyed the fruits of his labor to the fullest.

      The Butlers weren’t the real reason he’d accepted the invitation to meet the family. There was another benefit to coming to Cattle Barge—seeing Meg Anderson again. He’d needed a good reason to show, convincing himself that a reunion wasn’t pull enough and especially with the way she’d left things. To prove a point to himself—the point being that he didn’t need her—he’d taken his time to return her emails.

      That her tone had intensified, saying that they needed to meet got his curiosity going. They’d spent time together and—according to his memory—had one helluva good time before she’d ditched him. She’d cut off communication a few months after their smoking-hot affair started, leaving him scratching his head at what he’d done wrong.

      Granted, he wasn’t the relationship type by a long shot and he’d been up-front about it with her. He was always honest. And he knew deep down that one of them was bound to walk away first sooner or later. Normally he hit the door, not the other way around, and that was most likely the reason she was still on his mind a year later. He could make that concession.

      He’d been clear about his intentions, and although he’d enjoyed her company—he could further admit that enjoyed put it lightly—they hadn’t been together long enough for real heartbreak. And yet there’d been an uncomfortable feeling in his chest that felt a lot like a hole ever since she’d walked away.

      Wyatt flipped the radio channel to his favorite country-and-western station. The breakup song playing reminded him of how he’d felt when Meg cut off communication. Now he was a bad cliché, and that just worsened his mood.

      And even though Christmas was coming, he was most definitely not a ho-ho-ho type. Kris Kringle had never been more than a fat man in a silly suit. Wyatt tried to convince himself one more time that he didn’t care what Meg had to tell him. He was doing her a favor by showing up to hear her out and he needed to be in town anyway, so he might as well see what she wanted.

      He parked at the Home Grown Foods Restaurant and ignored the fact that his pulse kick-started with each forward step toward the door. What was he—a teenager again? That ship had sailed long ago, and Wyatt didn’t appreciate the blast from the past making his collar feel stifling and his palms warm and sweaty.

      The restaurant, located in the center of Main Street, had all of seven patrons. Traffic alone should’ve dictated a full house, although he remembered spotting a sign on his way in with details about a tree lighting at the