Page 147 of Tangled In Tinsel & Knots
He ignores every sound coming out of my mouth and tries to climb over me, his surprisingly strong body shoving me flatagainst my seat. His tail, which should not be that powerful, starts smacking Chris straight in the jaw.
He’s groaning and trying to shove him down.
“This is what we dealt with on the rescue run!” Noel yells from the front, laughing so hard he can barely breathe. “Welcome to the circus!”
Corn Dog decides the window looks like the most interesting part of the truck and wedges his head between Kane and Noel, his front hooves scraping against the center console. Kane swears as Corn Dog’s nose nearly lands in his ear.
“Back seat!” Chris is trying to haul him by the harness. “Stay. Back. Seat!”
Corn Dog doesn’t care. He now licks Noel’s neck with a wet enthusiasm, which I’m fine with him doing as long as he’s not climbing on me.
“Get your reindeer under control!” Noel snaps, pushing him away.
“He’snotmy reindeer!” Chris snaps back, trying to peel Corn Dog off him like he’s a toddler on a sugar high.
That’s when Corn Dog abandons the front altogether and collapsesdirectlyonto Chris’s lap. “Off!” he gasps. “Get off! You absolute beast!”
He just settles more firmly, like Chris is his personal throne. His chin rests on his chest.
Then Kane hits another modest turn—but apparently eventhatis too much—and Corn Dog slides sideways, dragging Chris with him, pinning me against him.
“Drive straighter!” I demand, muffled under a reindeer.
“Iamdriving straight!” Kane shouts with laughter.
Noel is laughing so hard he has one hand clutching his stomach and the other braced on the seat. “Stop—stop talking—you’re all killing me.”
Corn Dog chooses that moment to grab the bottom hem of Chris’s flannel shirt in his teeth andpull. Hard.
Chris jerks forward, half strangled by his own clothing. “Let GO! I need that shirt! Hey—HEY!”
Corn Dog gives the shirt one last yank, rips off a button, and then immediately loses interest like a tiny, furry criminal.
Noel twists around just in time to film Corn Dog trying to nudge open the rear window with his nose, fogging the glass with dramatic huffs.
“Oh, this is gold,” Noel says, cackling. “Christmas miracle. I am making a montage.”
“I hate all of you,” I wheeze, trying to shove a reindeer thigh off my rib cage. “Every single one.”
Chris sputters. “Can you—Hannah—tell him to stop hitting me with his ass?”
I glare at him. “Yes, let me just reason with the wild forest creature currently using me as a mattress.”
Kane catches my gaze in the rearview mirror, eyes warm and amused. “Welcome to pack life, beautiful.”
And somehow, despite everything—the reindeer squishing us, Chris covered in fur and a slobbered shirt, Noel filming like this is the most fun he’s ever had, and Kane trying to control the truck while snickering—I feel something settle inside me.
Something warm and steady.
My life is never going to be boring again.
And honestly? With these men?
I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
24
HANNAH
