Page 28 of Santa of the Creek
“I wish you could stay with me,” Echo says as we stand by the door. He insists on walking me out despite me telling him to keep the weight off his feet.
I flush under his warm gaze. “Believe me, there’s nowhere I’d rather be,” I say honestly.
“You don’t like the tree lighting ceremony?”
I shrug. What can I say?
Echo gives me an understanding smile. “Bad memories?”
I shake my head. “Good ones. Marty and I kissed under the tree when everyone had gone home. I spend time there when no one else is around. It gives me a chance to think about him.”
“You could take me there sometime and tell me about Marty,” Echo suggests.
“You mean it?”
He smiles at me. “I’d like to know more about the boy who captured your heart.”
“You know he’s another one with parents who liked the eighties.”
He furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”
“Marty? Marty McFly. His mom was a hugeBack to the Futurefan. She had a crush on Michael J. Fox.”
Echo’s smile widens. “How many of us suffered with eighties parents?”
“It was a strange era,” I say solemnly, and we burst out laughing.
I put on my coat and hat. But before I can tug my gloves and leave, Echo leans forward and kisses me. His lips are soft and his bristles rasp against my chin in counterpoint. My mouth parts under his and Echo moans, cupping my head, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. We rock slightly off balance, and I hold him steady, not wanting to send him flying. Finally I pull back, needing to breathe. His eyes are glazed and his mouth puffy. I put that look on him, and I revel in it.
He blinks and focuses on me and lets out a long sigh. “Damn.” He licks his lips.
The urge to pull him into my arms is overwhelming, but before I can, he says, “If you want to, come back here after the tree ceremony.”
I hesitate. “I want to…”
“But. I can hear a but.” Echo doesn’t seem angry, more resigned.
“I’m not sure I’m ready,” I confess.
He kisses me once more. “It’s okay, honey. I understand.”
“You’re not angry with me?”
“Not angry,” he assures me. “We only met yesterday. I’m an impulsive kind of guy. Sometimes I leap in too fast. Tell me if it’s too much.”
“If you were a hookup I wouldn’t care,” I admit.
Echo gives me a long look. “I can be.
I give him a wry smile. “No, I don’t think so, do you?”
His smile is just as wry. “Maybe not.”
We lock gazes, and I can’t breathe for a moment. I’m scared and worried and needy.
“I’ll call you tomorrow?” I suggest finally.
“I’d like that.” He takes hold of my hand. “If you sit under the tree tonight to think of Marty and need a friend, you call me, okay?”
