Page 15 of It's Mother-Pucking Christmas!

Before I could lay into him to disguise my embarrassment at the earlier rejection, the husky pup rammed his big head against my thighs and latched his sharp teeth onto my purse strap.

“Whoa!” Ryder handed me the three puppies and gently reached down to redirect the husky.

“Now don’t chew on her,” he said softly to the dog as it tried to mouth him. “That’s not how you make friends or get adopted. You’re not in the cute puppy stage anymore. You can’t act this way. We’ve been over this, Dasher. You have to get it together. Think of your future.”

The puppy was almost a full-grown dog—lanky with big paws he was still growing into and ears that would flop over occasionally.

“Frequent flyer?” I joked as the husky tried to climb on Ryder.

“I’ve done a lot of these adoption events, and I always see Dasher.” Ryder sighed. “At one event his previous pet parents even brought him back to abandon him again. He chews, he digs, he never sleeps, he knows how to open the fridge and turn on faucets. But not turn them off.” He grabbed the dog’s big head and shook him gently. “Don’t flood people’s houses.”

“Sounds like he just wants to go home with you,” I joked as Dasher licked Ryder’s face.

“I can’t. I don’t have a yard.” Ryder stood up. “I mean. I’ve always wanted a dog. Always. But I’m too busy. I travel. It doesn’t seem right. So I volunteer.” He shrugged one of those massive shoulders.

Then he held out his arms, inviting me to snuggle in them.

Er, no, Dakota. He wanted the puppies back.

“They’re not house-trained,” he warned. “You’re playing with fire with that sweater.” He tapped his bare, drool-worthy, lickable chest. “I think ahead.”

“And here I thought you were going shirtless just to get the ladies all hot and bothered. Mr. Boy Scout does have a little sex appeal after all.”

“There are children here, Dakota,” he scolded mildly. Then his mouth twitched into a smile. “If it’s for charity, I don’t mind giving the people what they want,” the deep voice rumbled.

“Uh-huh.”

He is not attractive, I chanted to myself to the tune of “Jingle Bells.”

“Puppies!” a little girl squealed excitedly as the shelter worker led her and her little brother over to us.

“These are the ten-week-olds I was telling you about. We have three,” Steph was saying. “Oh, and we have Ryder O’Connell!”

“Are you up for adoption?” the little girl’s mother asked with a breathy laugh.

“You’re my favorite hockey player, Mr. O’Connell,” the little boy declared as I carefully set the puppies on the floor.

The kids were immediately in love.

“I guess your dad’s going to be surprised when we tell him we’re going home with two new family members.”

“But there are three of them,” the little girl stated.

“Someone will adopt the third. Everyone likes puppies,” Ryder said, an odd expression on his face. “They’re little and cute. He’ll find a home no problem.”

“Abby, look, puppies! Abby, why aren’t you excited?” the little girl cried.

“Can you just try and be part of the family?” a man was saying to a tween girl dressed like Wednesday Addams as they made their way over.

“Sorry.” The harried father apologized as the two younger kids glommed onto him yelling, “Daddy!”

Ryder watched.

I didn’t know what to call his expression.

“Mom, can we go?” Abby sighed, annoyed.

“Did you find a cat?”

---