Page 6 of Santa of the Creek
Monday is the one night we are both free, and I enjoy our family time together.
I turn to Dean hovering by the door, car keys in hand. Suddenly there’s an outraged yelp and bark as I trip over something, arms wheeling as I lose my balance, and I hit the floor, with a pain in my left leg that takes my breath away.
Chapter Two
Dean
One minute Santa is ready to leave with me—no, I am not freaking like a teen girl on her first date. I’m too mature for that. Wait, back to Santa. He’s prone on the ground, groaning as he clutches his left leg, a small hairy dog leaping around him, barking furiously as if it’s done something amazing.
“Oh, my goodness,” Hebe says.
We kneel either side of Echo, and I try and shield him from the dog.
“Mavis, keep Billy under control.”
The dog looks ready to use Echo as a trampoline.
“He was the one who trod on my Billy. My poor baby,” the woman coos, cuddling the dog.
I’m about to snap at her when she disappears down the hall, crooning to her dog about the nasty Santa.
“Echo, honey, are you all right?” Hebe says.
He clearly isn’t all right. His face is almost as pale as the fake white beard.
“Lean against me,” I say, and he sags into my arms. I try not to freak about that. Adult, mature, remember?
“Can you stand?” Hebe asks. “We could drive you to hospital.”
“I don’t think so. I think my leg is broken. I heard something snap.”
I look at his left leg. It’s not twisted, and it doesn’t look broken, but I’m not going to take any chances with my man…I mean, Echo.
“Hebe, can you call the EMTs.”
“Of course I can.” She scrambles to her feet and dashes into the office.
I notice Echo’s grimace.
“They’re very good,” I assure him.
“I’m sure they are, but I can do without the medical bill. I’m already paying off the appendicitis trip to the ER last year.”
I rub his back soothingly. “I’m sorry.”
Echo sighs and pulls off the hat and beard. “It’ll teach me to do my boss a favor.”
“The Santa gig?”
“Yeah. Gloria?—”
“Say no more. She tried that one on me.”
“How did you get out of it?” he asks, somewhat indignantly.
“I’ve had years of practice of saying no to Gloria.” I give him a smug smile.
“And you hate Christmas.”
