Page 79 of Santa of the Creek
“Don’t yell at him too much.”
“Oh, I’ve done the yelling,” she says, her tone ominous. “Now it’s the grounding.”
“Mo-om,” Tommy whines. “It’s Christmas.”
At JoJo’s smug snort, his mom turns on him and he takes a hasty—and sensible—step backward.
“You’re both grounded. You were supposed to be looking after him. If it hadn’t been for Santa and Mister Echo…” She clamps her lips together and there is the slightest chin wobble.
“He’s fine, Toni. He did what you told him to do and ran to the tree.”
“And found Santa.” There’s a hint of tears in her voice but she’s trying to make light of it. “Anyway…” she sucks in a breath, “we have to go. Thank you both.”
“But Santa is telling me a story about Comet and her cold,” Tommy wails but his mom has clearly had enough and drags them both away.
“He can tell you that story another time.”
“But he won’t be Santa then.”
Echo raises his eyebrows. “A story about a reindeer with a cold?”
“It was about Santa getting lost when his reindeer sneezes and a wonderful man saves him,” I say ruefully. “We kinda got distracted.”
“I know the feeling.” Echo steps closer to me. “Now where were we?”
I have to think. What were we talking about before Tommy interrupted us? “Something to do with the town setting me up.”
“Us,” he corrects. “They want you to be happy and me to be your happiness.” Now he’s in my space. “Can I be your happiness, Santa Dean?”
“I can’t think of anything I want more,” I whisper, focusing on his mouth, ready to claim his lips.
This is why I wanted him here. To tell him I loved him under the starlight and lights of the tree.
“Echo, I lo?—”
“Evening, Echo, evening, Santa. Shouldn’t you be off delivering presents right about now?”
I sigh and lean my forehead against Echo’s. Three fucking words. That’s all I want to say. I paste on a smile and turn to face Sheriff Morgan and Deputy Ben dressed up in thick winter coats and brightly colored, homemade knitted hats. I wonder if Ben made the hats as he’s part of the knitting group. “Sheriff. Deputy.”
Both men grin at us. No, not grinning, they are smirking. As is Barkasaurus. Seriously, Barky is looking more like the sheriff as time goes on, or is it the other way around? It’s all that fluffy hair. It looks just like the sheriff’s beard.
“Why have you got Barky?” I ask.
Echo has a real snit about Ben, so I know he’s not going to volunteer a conversation.
“Geraldine has a cold,” Ben says. “I volunteered us for a play date to give Geraldine the chance to stay indoors.
“It wasn’t my choice,” the sheriff assures us, pulling a face.
I don’t bother to hide my smile as I ask, “Is that why you’ve got the leash?”
“You see!” Ben throws his hands up. “It doesn’t matter what JD says, he’s always the first one to grab the leash. And Barky sleeps with him, not me.”
“That’s because you thrash about at night and I sleep in one spot,” the sheriff points out. “Of course he’s going to sleep with me. Barky needs his peace and quiet.”
I stare at JD, sure I was mishearing this conversation. “He sleeps in your bed?”
He grimaces. “Also not my choice.”
