Free Texas Two Step by Cat Johnson Page B

lifetime lay before her, and she had every intention of enjoying every moment of it.
     

Chapter Two
    “Please, please, please, you have to do this one favor for me.”
    “Why?” Wes Griffin cocked a brow and waited for his sister Ellen to come up with a good enough reason for him to have to drive all the way to the airport to pick up some woman he didn’t know.
    In fact, Ellen didn’t even know her. It was someone from England she’d met and talked to online. It could be some mass murderer pretending to be a little old lady from Great Britain for all any of them knew. Ellen didn’t seem to care about that though.
    “You have to because you’re my brother and you love me.”
    Wes let out a snort at that logic. Oh, he knew he’d do it for her, but he wasn’t going to make it easy on Ellen. That’s what being a brother was all about. “And…”
    “You’re my roommate.”
    He laughed. “Which I pay half the rent for the privilege of. What else ya got?”
    “I, uh… Dang it, Wes, just tell me what you want.” Ellen’s frustration was clear. Wes enjoyed it immensely.
    “I want a twelve-pack of beer. The good stuff, not what you usually buy for yourself.”
    “Done. Let me give you the information. She lands at five-fifty-five today.”
    Damn. She’d agreed so fast, he should have asked for a case instead of just a twelve-pack. Oh well. Too late now.
    “Hang on. I’m not ready yet.” Wes sighed. Cradling the cell phone between his ear and his shoulder, he felt in his pocket for something to write on. He came up with a crumpled receipt and then searched his truck for something to write with. He finally found the stub of an old pencil on the floor between the seats. That’d work. “All right. Give me the information.”
    “You’ll have to go inside and meet her at British Airways arrivals—”
    Wes groaned. “I want parking money too.”
    “Fine. Just make sure you write down the time. Five-fifty-five. I don’t want you to forget. And you’ll have to make a sign on a piece of paper or cardboard or something with her name on it so she knows who you are.”
    This was just getting better and better. First of all, it was doubtful she would actually land at five-fifty-five. Why airlines bothered trying to be so precise, he’d never understand. They were never on time. Then, though he’d never flown out of the country, he figured he’d probably have to wait for her to get through some sort of US Customs inspection. Then she’d need to wait for her luggage.  On top of it all, he had to stand there with a sign in his hand like an idiot.
    Annoyed at both his sister for asking and himself for saying yes, he let out a loud breath.
    “Stop that!” Her voice came through his cell, loud and clear.
    “What?” Wes frowned. “I didn’t say anything.”
    “I can hear you being annoyed from here. She’s a very nice woman and I’m really excited to have her visit, so be nice.”
    “I’m always nice. I just… Do I really have to hold up a sign?”
    “Yes, you do. She’ll be looking for me to pick her up, not you. My supervisor just threw this extra shift on me last minute.”
    “So just tell her it’ll be me, the tall handsome guy in a black cowboy hat and a—” Wes glanced down at himself, “—blue shirt and jeans.”
    “I can’t tell her. She’s in the air already and her phone is turned off. I can’t be sure she’ll check her messages when she lands or that her cell will even work here in the States. Maybe it’s some kind of British cell phone and won’t have signal here. I don’t know. You need the sign.”
    Wes didn’t know shit about British cell phones, or British chicks, but he supposed he’d learn soon enough.
    “Fine. I’ll make a sign.” Now he needed paper too. Wes spied an old parking ticket. Not big enough. He glanced into the rearview mirror. The old beer can box kicking around in the bed of the truck might work, turned inside out so he could write on the plain