Truth or More Truth

Chapter 1

Melissa

December 29, 1988

O’Hare International Airport, Chicago

“Attention, passengers of flight 379 to Little Rock. Due to inclement weather, your flight has been cancelled. Please see the agent at the desk for re-booking. Thank you.”

My head whips toward the floor-to-ceiling airport windows. The sun is shining, and the baggage handlers outside the plane at the next gate are wearing light jackets due to the unseasonably warm temperatures we’re having. What inclement weather?

As voices rise around me, I realize I need to get to the gate agent pronto. Regardless of the reason for my flight’s cancellation, I have to get to Little Rock for Leslie and Ash’s wedding. The rehearsal is tomorrow night, and the wedding is the following afternoon. I grab my purse and carry-on bag and hightail it toward the airline counter.

I reach the counter at the same time as a dark-haired man in a form-fitting cashmere sweater. For a second, I’m distracted by the body beneath the material, which allows him time to step in front of me. “I have to get to Little Rock today,” he growls to the lady at the counter. “If you can’t make that happen, there’s going to be a problem.”

My body stills. I’d know that deep voice anywhere.

What is Bobby Jacobs doing here? I mean, I know why he’s going to Little Rock—for the same reason I am—but why isn’t he heading there from Los Angeles, where he lives? I mentally roll my eyes when I realize he must be here for work, even though it’s the week between Christmas and New Year’s, when nobody does any real work.

“And what inclement weather are you talking about?” he demands as he sweeps his hand toward the windows. “The sun is shining, if you couldn’t tell.”

I tap his shoulder.

He rolls his shoulder and barks over it toward me, “Not now. I’m trying to get to Little Rock for a wedding.”

“So am I,” I retort, hands on my hips.

He slowly turns and gives me a once-over, his perusal pausing briefly at my mouth before stopping at my eyes. “Melissa Teague.”

“Bobby Jacobs.”

I sneer at him, and he raises an eyebrow before turning back to the airline agent.

“Sir, ma’am,” the woman says, “I’m sorry about your flight. The inclement weather is in Boston, where your plane is currently stranded.”

“Then get another plane,” Bobby orders as I step up beside him.

“It’s not that simple, sir.” I’m impressed by the woman’s even tone, considering Bobby almost has smoke coming out of his ears.

“It should be.” He jabs his finger into the counter.

As my dad would say, this man could drive a brass ape insane.

I elbow Bobby in the side. When he flinches, I weasel my way between him and the desk, take a quick look at the woman’s name tag, and say kindly, “Please ignore him, Cheryl. He hasn’t had his daily breakfast of spiders and yak blood yet.”

Cheryl barks out a laugh as Bobby growls, and this time I elbow him in the gut.

I smile at Cheryl. “We understand the issue, but we really do need to get to Little Rock for this wedding. We’re both in the wedding party, though I’m extremely unclear about why anyone would choose him to be a groomsman. Anyway, if you could get us on the next flight, we’d be eternally grateful.”

“Maybe not eternally,” Bobby mutters behind me.

Cheryl narrows her eyes at Bobby and then gives me a pitying smile, no doubt for having to put up with him. “There’s a flight at the same time tomorrow morning and the next morning,” she says. “But they’re both full flights. You could try standby, but there’s no guarantee.”

“What about another airline?” Bobby barks. “Or routing through another airport?”

“We’ve already checked with other airlines,” she says calmly, “and all their flights are fully booked for the next few days, as are ours. It’s the holidays.”

Strong hands land on my waist, and I’m suddenly two feet to the left. I squeak out my displeasure, but Bobby isn’t focused on me.

He leans across the counter and demands, “Why did the announcement tell us to talk to you about re-booking if there are no flights to re-book?”

“That’s standard protocol, sir.”

“Well, you can take your standard protocol and—”

“Cheryl,” I cut in, before Bobby can make a bigger spectacle of himself, “you’re telling us there’s no way for us to get to Little Rock today or tomorrow?”

“Not via plane.”

Bobby curses, and I grab his arm and yank him away from the desk as he demands, “I’d better get my money back!”

“Don’t take your frustration out on her,” I say, spinning him away from the desk, which isn’t as easy as one would assume. The man has some muscle on him. “None of this is her fault.”

I holler back over my shoulder, “Sorry about him, Cheryl. You have a good day, now.”

“It might not be her fault,” Bobby grouses, “but it’s her job to get us to Arkansas.”

“No, it’s not.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, shifting my focus to how his sweater strains over his pecs, and I try not to think about how his arm muscles rippled under my hand a few seconds ago.

“Yes, it is,” he declares.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Bobby, whether it’s her job or not, that woman cannot get us to Little Rock. You need to let this go, and we need to figure out how to get to that wedding.”

“Oh, we do, do we?”

My finger jabs into his chest of its own accord, nearly spraining it due to the solidity of his pecs.

“I don’t like this situation any better than you do, but we’re both going to the same place for the same reason, so yes, we need to figure this out.”

He peruses me before he says, “My assistant will figure it out.” Then he pulls his monstrosity of a cellular phone out of his Rollaboard suitcase.

I pluck it from his hands. “What’s your assistant going to be able to do about this? Nothing, that’s what.”

“Then what’s your plan, Einstein?”

I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but it’s our only option. “We drive.”

“To Arkansas?”

“No, to Antarctica. Yes, to Arkansas, you frustrating man.”

Bobby holds his hands up. “Whoa, there, missy. Calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down? Don’t you tell me to calm down, mister.” I jab his chest again, but not quite so hard this time. I value the use of my finger. “You’re the one who’s been out of control here.”

“Fine. Don’t be calm.” He retrieves his phone from my grasp, sticks it back into his bag, and turns away from me.

“Wait, where are you going?” I ask as he strides away.

“To rent a car,” he throws over his shoulder. “I suggest you do the same.”

I grab my bag and hurry after him. “I have a car.”

“Well, bully for you,” he says when I catch up to him.

“Why are you being such a jerk?” I ask. In all my twenty-six years, I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a man quite so frustrating as Bobby, and considering I went to an Ivy League school and worked on Wall Street, I’ve encountered some real doozies in my day.

“I’ve been told it’s my default mode,” he mutters.

“Seriously?” I smack his arm with the back of my hand. “If you realize that, why don’t you change it? Do you like being a jerk?”

He shoots me a glance and sighs. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s been a long few days, I haven’t gotten much sleep, and I don’t want to mess up any of the wedding plans for Ash and Leslie.”

Look at him, being considerate of others for once in his life. “Neither do I. Now, are you coming with me, or not?”

“Considering how well this conversation has gone, I’m thinking I need to rent my own car.”

“You really think there will be any rentals available right now? Like the nice lady said, it’s the holidays. Anyway, it would be dumb for us to take two cars when we’re going to the same place. You’re coming with me.”

I highly anticipate regretting that choice many times over the course of this day and the however-many-hundred miles between here and Arkansas.

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