The Billionaire's Christmas Baby(4)

He leaned forward so that his face was a few inches from hers. “I don’t care,” he hissed. “I don’t care if you were a friend of hers or a friend of the frickin’ Pope. I. Don’t. Care. So get the hell off my property.”

He stepped back and this time he slammed the door so violently that she actually shuddered. It took her a few seconds to process what had happened.

Jackson Pierce was a jerk.

In all her imaginings about how this was going to unfold, him yelling at her and slamming a door in her face, twice, wasn’t what she’d envisioned. She’d thought he’d at least hear her out. But he hadn’t even given her a chance to tell him about Emily. She knew deep down, under that nasty temper, there had to be a good man. Louise had told her all about him, what a good brother he’d been. But that had been a long time ago, and Louise had made so many mistakes. He had obviously never forgiven her. When he hadn’t been at the funeral Hannah assumed it was because he didn’t know she had died. But now, after witnessing his palpable anger toward anything Louise, she wondered if he just hadn’t cared to show up. So where did that leave Emily?

Hannah stood unmoving on the porch, the harsh wind hammering snow and ice up and down her body as though it too were taking a turn at trying to knock her down. Her car was already buried under the snow and must have lost most of its heat. She wasn’t a quitter, but it was obviously time to think of a Plan B. She needed to get moving. But where the heck were they going to go at eight o’clock at night during a blizzard?

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Pierce,” she grumbled to herself, as she carefully climbed down the porch steps, still holding her Santa tin filled with cookies. She could sit in her car and gorge herself on cookies until she came up with a plan. Luckily, she had two cases of baby formula in the trunk.

So much for the lucky hat. Maybe she should rip it off and then stomp on it. She was exhausted and cold and now, thanks to Jackson Pierce, miserable. She trudged through the snow as quickly as the wind and snow would allow, her sights on the car. Emily was going to need to eat again in under an hour, and the last thing she wanted to do was pull over in the middle of nowhere to give her a bottle. Maybe she could try and knock on the door of that charming bungalow at the end of the street—it had been adorned from top to bottom in Christmas decorations and lights. Surely, whoever lived there wouldn’t turn a woman and a baby away in a blizzard.


What kind of a jerk would let a woman go out alone during a blizzard anyway?

…

What kind of a jackass yells in a woman’s face and then lets her drive away in the middle-of-nowhere Northern Ontario, during a blizzard, at night?

Jackson looked out the window at the petite brunette as she tried to brush the snow off the windshield. But every time she did, the wind would blow on even more snow. By the looks of her, one strong gust might carry her away too. Even that grandma hat she was wearing was all white with snow.

He continued to stare out the window, his fists jammed into his jeans pockets. Guilt was ripping a jagged hole through his gut, as he recalled the shocked look in her eyes. He’d been an ass. He rarely lost his cool, and yet, a few minutes ago he stood yelling at this tiny slip of a woman at his front door. Would it be so bad to let this Hannah woman spend the night? How much of a threat could a woman who barely reached the top of his chin with the pom-pom be? He’d find out what she wanted and then make it clear that he had no intention of speaking to anyone about his family. Then tomorrow morning, when the storm was over, she’d leave. Easy. Done.

Jackson shook his head as she disappeared into a giant mound of snow. With a rough sigh, and a few of his favorite curses, he shrugged into his leather, sheepskin lined jacket and flicked on the outdoor lights. One way or another, women were always complicating his life. Even when he was trying to get away from them, they found him.

“Hey!” he called out, approaching her. The snow was past his shins and showed no sign of slowing. He squinted as snow and ice pellets beat into his face and eyes. She either couldn’t hear him above the wind or she was purposely ignoring him.

She didn’t bother to look at him when he reached her side. She kept brushing off the snow with angry bursts.

A cloud of snow hit him in the face. He wasn’t so sure it was an accident.

“Look, you can spend the night here. Leave in the morning when the storm is over.”

She paused and went back to fruitlessly wiping off the windshield with one arm, while clutching a round container like a football under her other arm. He spotted a Christmas wreath attached to the front bumper of her car. He tried not to groan out loud at the absurd ornament. He had never actually met anyone who went to the trouble of decorating their car for Christmas. She was working on her side windows, still ignoring him. Stubborn was the last thing he needed right now.

“Well, we both know you can’t get anywhere with this weather tonight.” He felt the ice pellets drumming against the back of his neck like a bunch of nails. She continued to pay no attention to him. Enough was enough. He walked over and grabbed the scraper from her hand. She glared at him and yanked it back.

“I’m not staying here. You’re mentally unbalanced.”

“What were you thinking coming here alone, at night? Obviously you intended on staying.” He tried to pry the scraper out of her hand again, but it was as though that giant red mitten was super glued to the damn thing.