Page 27 of My Secret Santa Dallas

“Is there anything else you would like?”

“Nope,” he said, shifting from one foot to the other. “Can we just get out of here?”

“Sure,” I said as we headed to the register.

Hank looked at me and then at Dallas, and I wondered if he wanted to tell me something or, even better, give me something. Turning, I asked, “Dallas, can you run back to the personal care section and grab a box of hemorrhoid cream?”

He went red. “Oh Jesus.”

After handing the items over, he strode away, and I turned to Hank. “Do you have it?”

Like an Italian mobster sliding me an offer I couldn’t refuse, he slid a paper to me and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I made a quick copy of the one I had.”

Grinning, I tucked it into my pocket while I took out mycash for the items. He rang them up while Dallas came back with a box in his hand, and I rang that up, too. After paying sixty-seven bucks, I grabbed my bags and gave Hank a hearty thanks.

We left the store to find an inch of snow on the ground, and I made my way to the truck. Dallas was not happy.

“So, did you like Little Debbie more than Twinkies?” I teased him.

“Do me a favor,” he huffed. “Be quiet.”

So, gas and coffee?” The paper seemed to be burning a hole in my pocket as I handed him the box of hemorrhoid cream.

He looked at it as if it were a pile of muck. “Why are you giving me this?”

“For the days when you’re forced to take that pole out of your butt,” I said, smiling. “Now, where to next?”

“Home, unless you stop bugging me,” he grunted.

I couldn’t wait to get to the ranch and pull out the picture. The snow was coming down harder as we rode through the town to get what we needed, and when we got to the ranch, we used the porch floodlight to guide us into the lot.

Resting my empty coffee cup in the cup holder, I eased the picture out of my pocket and opened it; Dallas looked about eleven years old here, and yep, he was chunky.

“Oh, look at you,” I cooed. “Hank wasn’t lying.”

He took one look and reached out to snatch it, but I flung the door open and booked it to the front door, slipping and sliding as I went. Dallas was seconds after me, and I knew those long legs would eat up the tiny distance I had between us.

What would he do when he caught me?

I didn’t think about five minutes ahead. Icould only think about right now; I needed to get to the door and get up to my room. I scrambled up the steps, leaping for the door, yanked it open, and darted inside, slamming it behind me.

Dallas blasted through that door like a bull in a china shop as I lurched to the stairs, knowing he was two long leaps from grabbing me. I was halfway up the steps when long arms circled my waist and hauled me onto a body hard as iron.

“Give me that picture.”

“No—” I tried to wiggle my way out of his hold but got nowhere. “You’ll never get it.”

“I’ll get it,” he promised, heaving me over his shoulder and trapping my legs with an iron bar arm. I tried to kick off but didn’t get too far. What I hadn’t prepared for— and honestly, who could have ever prepared for this— was his large hand landing a hard smack on my butt.

“Hey!” I yelped.

“Be quiet, or you’re getting another,” Dallas said as he climbed the rest of the steps and passed my room to stride up to another, a room in an attic, and he kicked his door in.

The room smelled like him— and my heart leaped to my throat.

“Now,” he said. “Do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?”

I was still over his shoulder like a ragdoll and could hardly move. My eyes were level with his lower back and his butt. “For argument’s sake, what do you define as the hard way?”

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