Page 58 of Santa of the Creek
“Wasn’t he the one who pushed you off the swing? Wait, you read the city ordinances?”
“That was a long time ago, but there’s a reason he’s a helicopter brother.” I ignore the implication I’m a sad sack who likes reading dry and dusty laws.
Echo wrinkles his nose. “I don’t think I’ve heard that term before.”
“It’s normally referred to parents, but Danny’s like that with everyone. He has to take care of people. It’s in his genes.”
Echo gets a distant look in his eyes, the same one he always gets when we talk about family. “You’re lucky to have someone who cares.”
I stand, dislodging Ariel from my lap much to her disgust, and walk around the couch to haul Echo into my arms.
“I’m okay,” he mutters. “It’s just…family.”
“I know,” I assure him. “Just stay here for a moment.”
He rests his head on my shoulder and sighs. “You always end up comforting me.”
“I like having you in my arms.”
It was true. Echo fits so perfectly in my embrace and I’d be content to stay like this forever. But he raises his head and steps back, putting space between us.
“I’m lucky. I have Aunt Hebe and Heather. They’re more family than any man needs.”
“They’re feisty broads,” I agree. “Go have your shower.”
Echo holds out his head. “Come with?”
I pretend to think about it for a moment. “Hmmm. Get soapy and wet with my boyfriend or?—”
“There is no ‘or’,” he growls as he takes my hand.
That sound makes my dick perk up in anticipation. He’s all kinds of sexy when he gets growly.
As we walk out of the room, Echo brushes his fingers over the red roses I bought him the other day. He does that every time he walks past them, as if he wants to be connected to them. I’m glad I didn’t run away, which was my first instinct, especially whenBarbie-Anne confronted me, trying to find out who they were for. Jed made a beautiful bouquet. He was as talented as Lucian. I’ll have to ask him to make me another one soon.
But Echo is tired and needs me to think of him, not flowers. When we clamber into the shower stall, I push him against the tiles. “Let me soap you.”
Echo closes his eyes. “I’m not gonna say no.”
I pour shampoo into my hand and work up a soapy lather before I work it into his hair.
“I’m such a lucky boy,” he murmurs as I massage his scalp.
“You like being washed?”
“I like being washed by you.”
I smile at him fondly although his eyes are still closed, and he can’t see me. I smooth the lather across his shoulders, down his muscled arms and under his armpits. Echo just lets me get on with it, relaxed and pliant. Once I’ve finished with his chest, I take more bodywash and drop to my knees to wash his thighs, calves, and feet.
He sighs and clutches onto my hair, guiding me to his thickening cock, the head deeply flushed. I look up at him, blinking as water gets in my eyes, checking I haven’t misread his message. Okay, he’s dragging me to his cock, but you know, I could have gotten it wrong.
“I need you,” he croons.
No, I’m right on track. My man wants me to blow him. I can do that.
It’s the day of the Bash, our final town celebration before Christmas and my final gig as Santa Claus. Whereas the Tree Lighting ceremony is restrained, as restrained as Collier’s Creek ever gets, the Christmas Bash is just that, an all-out excuse to have fun.
I look up at the Christmas tree as I pass by, ablaze against the snow-laden sky. Marty is always in my thoughts. What would he think of Echo? They’re nothing alike. Marty was loud and brash, always dragging me along on his escapades. He was a boy; Echo is all man. Also dragging me along on escapades.
