Page 42 of My Secret Santa Dallas

His eyes narrowed. “What the heck was that?”

“Snow looks great on you,” I replied.

He stepped forward. “What the hell was that?”

I dove for more snow and didn’t even have time to pack it; I just flung it into his face. I was getting my snow legs under me while he wiped that handful away, too. I didn’t think I would get away with this for long; Dallas would either go full caveman on me, grab me from the pile, throw me over his shoulder, and walk us inside.

What I didn’t expect was a tight ball of snow cracking me on the chest or another hitting my gut. Was he going to engage in this snowball war with me? I saw him tossing a ball of snow in his hand with a pointed look at me. “Your move.”

“I’m gonna win,” I said, grabbing a handful of snow and ducking a barrage of snowballs that whizzed by my ear.

I replied in kind, and between ducking flying snow and lobbying handfuls of mine, I was running around the front of the house like a madwoman. Dallas was using the truck as a shield, gathering his ammo behind it, while I used the house's corners as shields. A cold wind whistled as I flung a doubleheader at him and lurched for more.

Fired up by the sight of the cowboy standing at the end of the walk, I flung snow like my life depended on it. Ducking behind the corner of the house, I peeked around to check how my opponent was doing, but I got a face full of snow.

I would not go down to that arrogant cowboy and switched on the afterburners! Snow flew to the left; snow flew to the right. I gasped for breath and kept going. Almost there— except I was out of snow. Dammit.

Dropping to my knees, I crawled out to get some ammo— and got yanked up into stiff arms. “That’s it, missy. Playtime is over.”

“No, let me down,” I squirmed. “I was winning.”

“No, you weren’t,” he kicked the front door in and trudged inside, stopping to stomp the snow from his boots. “But you can think that if you want.”

He set my feet, and I shook my head, dispelling the sudden dizziness. I huffed, “You could have let me have it.”

Dallas slapped my butt. “I think you’re drunk. Bedtime for you, missy.”

I wanted to disagree with him, but he was right. Today had been long, and I suspected he wanted time to spend with himself. I know I would if I’d gotten the same bombshell that had been dropped on him.

I swayed. Maybe I was getting drunk. “Good night, kiss?”

The few sizzling-hot kisses we’d shared came to mind,causing a slow burn in my belly. Dallas’ big hands were framing my face now, cupping my cheeks as he drove his tongue inside my mouth. The dark, spicy taste of his whiskey lingered on his tongue, and I sucked on it as I looped my arms around his neck and tangled my fingers in his hair, urging him to deepen the kiss.

I nipped at his bottom lip, scraping across it with my teeth, and he pressed my body flush with his, and a tidal wave of need welled up inside me. Before things got too out of hand, Dallas smartly pulled away to rest his forehead on mine and tried to catch his breath.

“You’ll be the goddamn death of me,” he murmured, stepping back.

I honestly didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

I knew he needed space, so I fetched my things from where I’d dropped them on the snowy ground and went inside the warm interior and up the stairs. I stopped on the third step, pivoting to see him carry the box of letters in.

He isn’t going to sleep tonight, is he?

Chapter Twelve

Dallas

After a screaming hot shower and a glass of whisky, I settled downstairs, back in the TV room, with the lamplights on and the box open. I took the six piles of letters out and saw the dates on the yellowing paper— a year after I’d left.

Dallas,

I tried to find the words to say to you when I saw the note you’d left on your pillow Thanksgiving morning, and I found too many. I am disappointed in you, Dallas. I felt pained about how you left, and while I know you are a strong, capable person, I am beside myself with worry, knowing you are alone. I am afraid you’ll get tricked and go hungry on the road. I am so scared you are all alone and have no one with you.

But most of all, I feel sorely disappointed in myself with the creeping suspicion that I have failed you somehow. I feel that I’d pushed you to think this ranch was your only future or that I’d disparage your desire to pursue another interest.Worst of all, I think you think I’d hate you for not following in the footsteps your great-grandfather, grandfather, and I have followed for years.

None of that is true, Dallas.

Yes, I would have been upset, I would have doubted your mind, and yes, there would have been some questioning and pushback, but ultimately, I would have let you go. I would not have ever forced you to stay. That would have made you resent me more than anything.

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