Page 26 of My Secret Santa Dallas

“We move them to the winter pasture that we’ve allowed to grow up so they can graze even when the snow comes down,” Dallas said. “At least that was what Dad used to do, and I can only think Warrick kept that tradition going. Bulls are hardy creatures, especially ones up this far. They can handle snow better than you and me.”

Well, that explained his wet hair.

“I don’t think it’s going to come down hard, but you never know,” he said, cocking the brim of his hat up a little more. “Montana’s weather is unpredictable.”

I trained my gaze toward the sky again. “I think I shall go back inside. I’m not used to snow.”

His brow cocked high. “Really? How come?”

“The last time it snowed in Texas was in 2011, a winter storm dubbedSnowpocalypsehit the state, but I was in Georgia at the time, and five or six years ago, it snowed one inch and shut the whole of Atlanta down,” I said. “I don’t have snowshoes or even a winter coat.”

“We can get some for you,” he replied. “I’m pretty sure Hank’s General Store has a good selection.”

He was testing me again, and while the part of me that wanted to shudder at knowing that whatever I got was going to be generic, I didn’t dare let that reaction out. “Sure. I'll take it as long as it keeps the tender bits without frostbite.”

“Okay, we can run to the store later on,” he nodded.

“I’ll see you then.” I held my cup up and offered him more sugar. “More crystallized arsenic?”

“Nah,” he shook his head. “You might need it more than I do.”

The town was softly coated with snow, just like a baker might dust sugar on a donut. The hoarfrost made everything look like Christmas, and I could definitely envision how the place would look with a full winter fall.

We stepped into the general store, and the warmth inside was a welcome contrast to the rising chill outside. The place was what I’d imagine a Walmart or a Goodwill looked like— I’d never stepped into one myself— only on asmall scale. There were shelves in the front, freezers filled with frozen pizzas, meat, and drinks against a wall, while at the back were racks of clothes.

“See something you like?” Dallas asked.

“Why?” I replied while skimming the racks. “Are you footing the bill?”

“You wish.” He slid a look at me before wandering off. “You’re covering the gas bill to come out here, too.”

Laughing, I pulled out a thick purple coat that drew my eyes. It had a double breast and a hood for thirty-five dollars. I liked it immediately. I folded it over my arm, checked out beanies, and took a white one with a pom-pom on the end. Then, I went to the shoe section.

A man, short, stocky, bald with a bushy mustache, and in a brown and red flannel shirt, came around the corner. “Can I help you, miss?” he asked jollily. “Oh, you’re not from around here, are 'yah? There’s been whispers of this big city blond beauty up there with the Donovans, and I bet you’re the same one. A Miss Blair, is it?”

I shot a look at Dallas and then back to him. “That’s me. How do you know?”

He stuck out a hand. “Name’s Hank, Hank Garrison. This is my store. And this is a town of seven hundred people, miss, people gossip like they drink water around here.”

Dallas came back from the corner he’d gone off to, and I handed him my goods. “Please hold these, Dallas.”

Hank’s mouth dropped. “Dallas, as in Dallas Donovan? Betty told me you were around these parts, but I didn’t believe it. How are you doing, sonny boy? We’ve missed you around this place. How fondly do I remember how I had to wrestle those bags of Little Debbie cakes from you. Remember that?”

This time, my jaw dropped. Was Dallas blushing? Yep, there were spots of red on his cheekbones. “I have tried to forget it, but it comes back to me at midnight.”

I asked, “Little Debbie?”

“Oh yes,” Hank said. “This one was a chunky kid, with round cheeks and a sweet tooth that was a mile long.”

I asked as calmly as I could because my insides were bursting with laughter. “Do you have a photo of that?”

“No, he doesn’t,” Dallas cut in. “I am sure he does. Are you done? Can we go? Didn’t you say you wanted coffee?”

I quirked a brow. “Almost.”

“Take all the time you need,” Hank said.

Crouching to examine the boots, I found a pair my size, faux leather, that had a military style. Then, getting to the personal items row, I plucked up a pack of tampons and dropped them on the pile in Dallas’ arms. He went red.

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