Page 6 of A Colby Christmas Rescue

Her friend Kendrick Poe would say she was overthinking it, but he’d already made one hell of a mark for himself so he should totally understand even if he pretended his accomplishments were no big deal.

Besides, just being a Colby set the bar damned high.

For a girl, Luke would say.

Jamie bit back a grin. Her little brother was certain he would go far higher than his big sister.

Not if Jamie could help it.

She was all for her brother going as far as possible as long as she went further. They’d been fiercely competitive—especially with each other—forever.

Up ahead, the beggar guy moved in a little closer on Santa.

Time to move.

Jamie added another click to her pace and walked past the beggar. He glanced at her, but considering her too-tight jeans and cropped sweater he didn’t appear to consider her a threat.

Too bad for him.

She had just powered in front of Santa when she turned over her supercool right ankle boot and threw her full body weight into the guy in the red and mostly off-white velvet.

They both went down, landing uncomfortably on the concrete sidewalk.

Beggar guy stared in astonishment for one seemingly endless moment before hurrying away. He’d missed his shot. Too bad. Too sad.

“I’m so sorry!” Jamie cried as she attempted to right herself and Santa. “Are you all right, sir?”

He should be all right, but he smelled way wrong. Inside, she shuddered. Santa needed a serious shower and a freshly laundered suit. He smelled a little like sweat and a lot like alcohol. Jamie really hoped the stain on the front of his jolly jacket wasn’t dried vomit.

The man scrambled for his red hat and tugged it back on before allowing Jamie to help him to his feet.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, looking around exactly like a criminal would.

When would people learn? If you wanted to do a job well—even an illegal one—you had to get your act together and leave the booze at home.

“Oh no.” Jamie dusted at his coat, noting how the right sleeve had come loose from the body of the jacket at the seam. “You tore your jacket. I hope you weren’t on the way to a scheduled Santa visit.”

“No.” He shook his head, then backed away just enough to look her up and down. “You okay, little girl?”

She smiled and resisted the initial response that shot to the tip of her tongue. She was no little girl. The term was probably just the way he referred to all females younger than him, which would include most of the population in the LA area.

“I think I twisted my ankle.” She winced. “I should have been paying better attention to where I was going.”

“Probably on your phone,” he grumbled, testing his own weight on first his left foot, then his right.

Apparently, he actually had twisted an ankle. Could make her job easier.

“I’m so sorry. Really.” She offered her arm. “I insist on seeing you to your destination.”

She noted the way he stared beyond her. “Beggar guy is coming back around,” the voice whispered in her earpiece. No wonder Santa was staring.

When the collision had occurred the other guy apparently crossed the street and now he was retracing his steps. He had a mission. Good for him. Too bad he’d failed already.

“Well...er...” Santa nodded. “I could use the help.”

He was old enough, maybe even close to her grandmother’s age. No one would be surprised at him asking for help after a spill at his age. Beggar guy would just have to back off for a bit.

“How long have you been playing Santa?” Jamie asked as they walked slowly forward. She purposely set the pace slow to buy time and to wear on beggar guy’s patience.

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