Page 10 of My Secret Santa Dallas

My gut roiled again.

I’d sent Jessi a letter from Cali, but she had not written back. “Is she still around here?”

“No, she and her family moved to Bozeman years ago,” Warrick replied. “When you left, she came here wondering what had happened. We didn’t know what to tell her.”

Another person my selfishness had hurt.

“It wasn’t until we got the first card from you that we began to stop worrying,” Warrick sat back in his chair, his fingers drumming slowly on the desk. “As the years went by, we cherished those cards, knowing it was hard for you to say what you wanted to say.”

My gaze turned to the window on the side. “It still doesn’t change the fact that I’d harmed a lot of people.”

“Would you have stayed otherwise?” Warrick asked pointedly. “Remember, I left too.”

“…No,” I said, raking a hand through my hair. “And if it would have, I would have gotten uglier. I think a part of me understood that and decided to rip the band-aid off. But then—” I swallowed. “You’d gotten hurt, and I didn’t even have the balls to come back to help you.”

His brows lifted. “You followed my career?”

“It was the only goddamned thing keeping me sane,” I admitted. “Knowing you’d made it, knowing you’d left this town and gotten to see some of the world.”

“Damned near seen every corner of it,” Warrick replied. “Being a bull rider, you get around.”

“But you came back,” I replied. “Why?”

“Probably the same reason you did,” he replied, and when my lips flattened— a clear indicator that I didn’t want to talk about it— he chuckled.

“I couldn’t, in good faith, let the ranch splinter apart,” Warrick said, the wheels of his chair screeching against the tile as he scooted forward. “Dad was heartbroken that what Grandpa had worked his whole life to put together would fade into nothing. It took a while, but I managed to pull the ranch from the brink, and now we’re on the up and up.”

My mouth opened— but Warrick stopped me.

“I know, I know you’re all twisted up in knots about this deal with Portman Corp, but believe me, he won’t screw me over,” he said. “We have to get this plant up and running, and because of that?—”

“Mr. Donovan, I just talked to—” Blair strode in but jerked to a stop when she saw me and Warrick. “Oh, I am sorry.”

I scowled. “What happened to knocking?”

“I did,” she said in that calm voice that did nothing but infuriate me. “Thrice.”

Were we in the eighteen century? Who used the wordthrice?

She came forward and set a file on his desk. “Mr. Portman agreed to your terms, but only this time, it’s no longer four years; it’s now eight. That is the best I could do.”

I looked to Warrick. “Sounds good to me. By then, you should be able to maximize the investment and get more shareholders in.”

Warrick reached for the folder and took it but didn't open it or look it over. “I’m glad you’re here, Miss Cullen, because I need to tell you both something.”

I didn’t like that tone.

Sighing, Warrick said, “Zoe and I are heading to Washington DC for the FBI for a round of talks to finally set this nightmare with Drayton Corp to bed. In my absence, Dallas, I need you to step in and oversee the construction of the processing plant, talk with the mayor about the town’s Christmas setup, the Secret Santa setup, and some more odd jobs….”

Fuck. I had not expected that.

“And until I come back,” he said, “Miss Cullen, please cooperate with him as he is the point person on this. See him as you’d see me—” his eyes shifted to mine and then hers. “— and I want to come back to see both of you alive and kicking and not half the town razed to shreds.”

I couldn’t take this. “Warrick?—”

“Sir—” she said.

“No Warrick, no Sir, it’s done,” my brother said sternly. “And I expect you to both be grown-ups about it. Don’t let me down now. Dallas, I need you to drive her to the sight tomorrow to get the ball rolling. Is that clear?”

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