Damn cramped seating. They definitely weren’t designed for a six-foot-eleven-inch man. After picking up his bag from the claim area, he made his way to the front of the airport. He saw no sign of Wyn. His hand went to his face to scratch at his beard. He was momentarily surprised when his fingers encountered freshly shaven skin. Chuckling to himself, he walked towards the information desk. “Excuse me, Ma’am?” The information clerk smiled. “May I help you?” “Someone was supposed to meet me here, but I don’t see hide nor hair of him. I was wondering if you could page Palmer Wynfield for me?” “Sure,” she said and did what he asked. He looked around, nothing. A tap to his arm caught Ezra’s attention. “Are you Ezra James?” the tall cowboy asked. The guy was about six-foot-three with dark brown hair and a goatee. Ezra knew he’d never seen him before. “That’s me,” Ezra replied. “Sorry, you don’t look like the description Palmer gave me. Well, except the size, he was spot on with that.”
