Page 56 of My Secret Santa Dallas

“No, I mean,” I sucked in a breath. “Are we in a relationship? Is it just casual, or is it more? Because I have to tell you something: if I am considering moving to Texas, it will be for you, not for a job.”

Blair bit her lip, and then held the bag close to her belly. “I—shit?—”

Now, my gut sank to my feet, but I didn’t jump to any conclusions about what she meant by that. I started the truck and headed back to the ranch, taking the time to drive carefully and not skid into a snowbank because of invisible ice.

We were halfway there when Blair said, “I want you to come.”

I kept control of the wheel, “To work near you or?—”

“To be with me,” she said, “I want you with me in Texas, Dallas, but I cannot deny that I’m feeling more for you than I have for any other guy in the last five years. And before you even suggest it, no, it’s not because you're not as rich as the other guys. I couldn’t care less about that. You’re honest, loyal, and decent, not like those smarmy assholes who constantly look out for any way to screw someone over.”

I spared her a look, “I think you just called me husband material somewhere in there.”

“Did I?” Blair smiled tentatively, “I hadn’t realized.”

When we got to the ranch, I shut the truck off, reached over to her, cupping the back of her neck, and pulled her in for a soft kiss. “You’re something else, you know.”

“I know,” she replied. “And I am glad you figured that out now.”

Laughing, I got out and headed inside, trying not to laugh at how gingerly she walked over the snow. When we got inside, we separated to change our clothes and rejoined in the kitchen for warm coffee, tea, and whatever we could munch on.

My phone sat on the table while I fixed mycoffee, and once again, it buzzed with a text. Grimacing, I flipped it over and saw the words again.

One of you will pay. You will lose her, or she will be forced to lose you.

So, there was no question about this; this message was for me.

“…What’s going on?” Blair asked.

Silently, I slid the phone to her, and she read it, her face going flinty. “What the hell is this?”

“That’s what I want to know,” I rubbed my face. “There is no number, so I cannot call this asshole back. But I don’t get it. What does it mean?”

Her phone rang, and she looked down at it and then at me. “Can your cell record?”

I scrolled through and got to the voice recorder app I had used in office meetings many times. I had it ready for when the person called again. I didn’t know why I expected some robot voice or voice modifier like in some horror flick— but no, whoever came through the phone spoke clearly.

“I have two choices for you, sister,” the voice said, and I knew it was her asshole brother. “You made me lose the Ricola investment, so I think it is only fair that you lose something of yours. This Dallas Donovan you’ve been canoodling with has a brother who owes a good deal of money to the bank. I know the owner of that bank, Westfork Financial, and if I have a good reason to tell him to hike the interest rate up or repossess the ranch, I am sure he will do it.”

“You’re threatening me?” Blair asked. “Do you know how blackmail works, Wentworth?”

“I have more leverage on you than on him,” Wentworth said. “If you stay in this disgusting relationship, his brotherloses because of him, and he is going to lose big. I can promise you that.”

“So, you’re threatening me because you’re feeling hurt,” she said calmly.

“You made me lose one of the most fortuitous deals of the century!” Wentworth hissed. “You don’t think I’d be pissed off?”

“And what if I tell Dad about this?” she asked.

“It will be your word against mine,” he said, “There is no way to prove this. You’re better off anyway. You can't be serious about dating that hick.”

Her smile was sinister, “We’ll talk when I come for Christmas Eve dinner, Wentworth. Maybe you’ll get your way.”

She hung up, and I saved the voice recording; Blair reached for her tea and dumped it into a travel mug. “Get a change of clothes, Dallas. We’re going to Atlanta.”

I balked when I saw the mansion arching above me. I knew Blair came from money, but seeing it with my own eyes was something else. I was in dark jeans and a white button-down with silver cufflinks.

“Don’t be afraid,” Blair said, “Just ignore the glitz and glamour, and you’ll be fine. We’ll say our piece, nail Wentworth’s ass to the wall, and go back home.”

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