Page 34 of My Secret Santa Dallas

I cocked my head, “You know it was fake?”

“As fake as Billy Burner’s prize pig suddenly growing wings and flying off to Delaware,” he said.

Even though I did not know who Billy Burner was or what his prize pig was, I had seen enough town fairs to make a visualize it. “You’re welcome,” I said.

It was just under two o’clock, and after a quick trip to my room to check for any emails from Hunter, I wentdownstairs, hoping to find Dallas. He was probably on the ranch with bulls bigger than my grandaddy’s beast of a tractor.

I wanted to ride out to see him too, so I switched my pants out for looser jeans— note to self, buy bootcut jeans with stretch— and strode out to the back doors, pausing to speak with Marie.

“Here,” she handed me a tumbler of warm coffee. “He’ll appreciate this. It’s getting cold out there.”

“Okay,” I said, firming my grip around the tumbler.

“There’s enough for two,” she smiled innocently.

My heart began pumping double time— what was she hinting at here? I didn’t have the heart to ask her, so I just nodded and booked it out the door. I got to the stables, expecting to saddle my horse, but found Dallas there, slowly backing up as a huge dog stalked him.

“Whoa, whoa, boy. Sit.” The dog kept heading toward him, and panic set on his face. “Sit, boy. God damn it, sit, I say!”

The dog sat on his haunches— for two seconds before he leaped and crashed into Dallas, taking him to the floor, that damn hat flying in the opposite direction. My knees gave out from under me as I watched, and I had to slap a hand against the wall to stop myself from collapsing entirely.

“Stop,” he shouted as the dog licked his face. “Stop it, you mangy mutt! Get off me.”

Nope, my butt hit the floor, I couldn’t take it anymore. I even tilted to the side, grabbing my belly from how much it hurt. It was a miracle I kept hold of the tumbler, or else that would be lying sideways on the floor.

“Get. Off. Me.” Dallas managed to unseat the giant dog and herd him into a stall before locking it, glaring daggers and sadistic death at me. Dusting off his pants, he grunted. “Youcould have helped me, you know, instead of laughing at me like a loon.”

“And do what?” I asked, still on the floor. “Get trampled like you? I am a third of your size, if you haven't noticed. You barely handled that dog. What was I supposed to do, hm? Be like Cinderella and charm him off you?”

He stared at me long enough that I got concerned. “What?”

“I don’t think you got that princess right,” he said while extending a hand to me. “Wasn’t that supposed to be Snow White or something?”

“You know princesses?” I asked, then teased. “Do you have a secret fetish I don’t know about?”

His voice was flat. “I’ve had girlfriends who had little sisters and was forced to sit and watch TV with them before the squirt could doze off so we could make out.”

Rolling my eyes, I handed him the tumbler. “Marie, send her regards.”

He took it. “I thought I was the one who was supposed to carry your coffee.”

“This is an aberration of the rule,” I said. “Now, say thank you like a good little boy.”

“I’m not a boy,” Dallas said while screwing the tumbler’s top off to sniff the contents. “Or good and hardly little.”

Oh fuck, didn’t I know it?

Clearing my throat, I brushed off my backside and stepped away. “I thought you were on the ranch, doing what all you rough, tough cowboys do.”

He cocked a boot on the nearby wall and poured himself a cup. “You mean the mind-numbing, rough, tough job of watching bulls graze without a care in the world? Oh, yes, it's riveting.”

Mirroring his position, I observed for any flare-up. The man might deny it to his dying day, but he had more tics than a feral wild hog in the forest— and I’d begun to recognize them all.

“Are you going to stay until Christmas?” I asked. “If you’re considering your options, it seems a bit… much.”

He finished his drink and capped the tumbler. “I don’t know about Christmas, but I do know about Thanksgiving. I haven’t been here in so long that I want to spend it here, to wipe out the memory of the night when I snuck away with a knapsack on my back, my fortune of eight hundred and seventy-nine bucks, and dumb luck on my side.”

“Crossing two states to California.”

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