Page 2 of Her Candy Cane Cowboy
“Dallas Sullivan!” She greets me warmly, coming around the counter to hug me. She’s always like that. Treats everyone like long lost family she’s been looking forward to seeing.
“I have a package to pick up,” I tell her as she returns to her spot and I reach the counter.
“I know. As soon as I saw your name on it, I set it aside. Give me a second.” She goes to the back then returns with a large box that has candy canes all over it.
“Let me help you with that.” I take a step forward.
“No need. It’s not heavy at all. She sets it on the counter and gives the box a nudge. Then hands me a peppermint the way she does every year.
I thank her and carry the box to the counter set up in the middle of the post office where a couple of people are filling out mailing labels.
I gently shake the box. Whatever’s in here is light and I’m running guesses through my head about what the gag gift might be.
Finally, I stop guessing and tear it open. Then I laugh my ass off. Nestled among green tissue paper is a candy cane striped dildo with a big red bow on the tip. The attached note reads, “Merry fucking gift.”
I didn’t see this one coming, that’s for sure. He put it in an oversized box to throw me off.
Still chuckling, I start to tuck the flaps back in when a short, curvy woman with shoulder length black hair and striking blue eyes barrels into the post office. She’s wearing form-fitting jeans, and a flowery blouse cut low in the front to show ample, mouth-watering cleavage.
She’s beautiful. And making a liar out of me. I’d once said to Marshall, “I will never be as head over heels for any woman the way you are with yours.”
The woman marches closer and my heart beats hard and fast like it’s knocking against my ribs from the force of the beats.
She slams her hand on top of my box and bracelets jingle together on her wrist. “That’s mine.”
“No, it’s not, darlin’ but if you really need it, I’ll let you have it.” And I wouldn’t mind helping her use it.
“Let me?” She scowls. “I had these decorations shipped here for a party. The company uses this candy cane design on their shipping boxes every Christmas.” She reaches into the box without looking inside and pulls out the dildo and shakes it. It begins buzzing in her hand.
Astonished by the sight and sound of the toy happily thrusting, the crowd waiting to send packages grows quiet.
The woman’s mouth opens and her eyes widen. She snaps her eyes at me. Then looks back at the dildo. “You…this…” She flings it back into the box.
I laugh the kind of laugh that has me trying to catch my breath because I’m the center of the biggest joke of all. Me, Mr. Never Head Over Heels got his heart reeled in. Call it fate, the universe, the answer to a prayer I didn’t know I was asking for, but this woman is the one.
She glances at the box’s label, then slaps her hand down like she’s wishing it was my face. “You think this is funny? Just wait, Dallas Sullivan. You’re getting nothing but coal this year.” With a noise like a humph sound, she spins to leave.
“That’s fine, darlin’.” I call out to her retreating back. “I’ve never been on the nice list anyway.”
Chapter 2
Ginger
He’s never been on the nice list? I’m not surprised. The heat in his eyes when he’d looked at me was a clue he was good at being naughty.
When I’d first entered the post office, I’d instantly noticed him. His muscled body and handsome face wouldn’t let him fade into the crowd. Plus, there was his height. Easily over six feet, he’d towered over everyone.
In his cowboy hat, jeans, and a fitted…very fitted…T-shirt…everything about him screamed capable. Probably capable of making me scream with something other than frustration. His deep voice had been filled with meaning as he’d offered to let me have that toy.
He probably wants to play games with my heart. Just like my ex and I can’t…I won’t ever do that again. No thanks. I don’t want a man.
As for how to deal with this particular man, I’ll find a way to get back at him for that dildo incident and stop him cold from thinking he can mess with me. For now, I’ve got work to do, starting with meeting Mary Maas, the woman who hired my services as a party planner.
I drive through town past the overabundance of Christmas décor, and my fingers tighten automatically on the steering wheel. All the colorful lights, poinsettias everywhere and cute Santa Claus figurines with their rosy cheeks is a holiday cheer overload. I hate every bit of it.
It’s a reminder of me standing at the altar on Christmas Day last year with a beautiful tiara pinned to my upswept hair. The dress had been an expensive dream. A culmination of hoping I could afford it, then saving forever and finally getting it. In that Before time, I was a princess on the brink of a fairytale wedding. In the After, I was a humiliated non-bride.
That day still takes my breath away, is still locked in my mind like a movie I wish I’d never seen.
