Page 11 of My Secret Santa Dallas

I couldn’t tell him no, not with this, even though I’d prefer to hike up to Eagle’s Point bootless, blindfolded and backward. Hell, I’d prefer to muck out the stables with a gardening shovel and my toothbrush before I would like to be within five feet of Miss Moneybags.

My teeth ground in the back of my head, but the words that came out of my mouth were... “Consider it done.”

Chapter Four

Blair

Iwanted to scream.

This was not going to end well, not with me in close contact with this entitled asshole who hated me for something that was not my fault. I knew he resented me for my money, my status with the Portman Group, and the deals I’d broken with Warrick.

I’d expected to ignore this man for the next three weeks while I oversaw this plant; I’d prepared for the usual stone-cold nod in the morning over coffee and the terse hellos at dinner.

Now, we had to work together.

I couldn’t be more unwilling—but I was a professional and had to maintain Portman’s image. The company was nothing but adaptable, and so I had to be that as well.

Dallas was a wild card. Half the time, I didn’t know if he wanted to shoot me…or kiss me senselessly.

“What time are we leaving?” Dallas asked.

“The contractor is going to be there at two,” Warricksaid, sliding a thick pile toward me. “These are the schematics, the list of equipment we’re sourcing, and everything else that will come with the plant. The contractors will be out there explaining it all, but you have to do the checks and balances and ensure they do what we need them to do.”

“I understand,” I told him.

It was daytime, but I suddenly needed a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and a glass. I stomped my way back to my room to change into proper clothes that would survive a messy construction field, and once again, I had to rely on Connie’s boots.

I may have to buy them from her if it comes to it.

Ten minutes later, I was down in the lobby, waiting for Mr. Hothead to join me. I tossed a look over my shoulder, unsure if I had time to pour a cup of coffee to take with me, but if not, surely there was someplace in this town I could get one.

“Ready to go?” Dallas said behind me, close enough that I was tempted to spin on my heel and give him a roundhouse kick.

“Yes,” I said.

He’d changed his shirt to a dark gray button-down, but that was about it. The day was slightly overcast, which I hoped would keep the heat away while not dousing me with buckets of icy rainwater.

“How fast does winter come in Montana?” I asked.

“It’s already here,” he said. “It’s November, and it spans all the way to March. It sometimes drops to below fifty to below thirty, and we have feet of snow. I’m wondering when it’s gonna go Polar.”

“I’m not used to icy winters,” I admitted as I jumped into the passenger seat of a Ford truck.

“Clearly,” he grunted as he started the truck. “Those tan lines don’t say you like the cold.”

“That’s right,” I replied. “I’d prefer a spa day over anything; all the works: a cut, blowout, manicure, pedicure, and a thorough wax.”

“Is that before or after you sell ice to an Eskimo?” he asked as we hit a street heading in the opposite direction from the town.

I humored him. “That’s after the deal is signed.”

“Of course,” he said. “I am sorry for the poor sucker who signs over his soul to the Devil.”

“What is your job in California?” I asked.

“With the company I was in, I had three,” he replied. “I did accounts when they needed it, did economic analysis when needed, and stepped in as a business manager at times. I was on the verge of leveling up when the company folded. They were an arm of the Drayton Corp.”

I nodded. “The same one your brother’s fiancée took down….” I bit my lip. “… Are you mad about it?”

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