Page 35 of Santa of the Creek
I crack up and he starts laughing too. I fall asleep still giggling.
Despite Dean’s insistence that I need to sit on my butt and rest my ankle, his words, not mine, I go with him to the hospital. I don’t know why; I just want to give him the company. I also want to get out of the house.
My jaw drops when I see he’s dressed up in the Santa costume again. “Why? I thought you hated that costume.”
He grimaces. “I do, but Curtis dared me to turn up like this. He’s going to make a donation to the hospital if I show up as Santa.”
I shake my head. Most guys would have told him where to stick his donation, but not Dean.
“I need to go via the bookshop. Curtis wants something new to read.” Dean fixes me with a firm stare. “You will stay in the vehicle, mister.”
“Yessir.” I salute him and he rolls his eyes.
He’s a matter of minutes in the bookshop, then gets in the pickup and hands me the bag.
I peek inside. It’s a mix of thrillers and horror. “I’ve been meaning to read some of these.”
“I’ve got them at home,” Dean says. “You can borrow them. Maybe then you’ll stay off your ankle. I offered to lend them to Curtis, but he’d already put in an order at the bookshop.”
I poke my tongue out at him. He sighs and starts the truck.
Okay, I’m really regretting my decision to do this as we walk, or in my case, limp, into the hospital. It doesn’t help that I get a scolding by Dr Crane who spots us as we walk through the entry. Dean gets a scolding too, which he points out is very unfair.
“I told you to sit on your butt.”
“Does it help that my ankle hurts like a bitch, and I’m a breath away from crying?” I ask.
He sighs and turns on his heel. I’m left standing here, wandering what to do. Then he returns with a wheelchair. “Sit,” he snaps, like I’m a dog.
But sitting sounds good, so I do what I’m told. Staff and patients stare at us as he wheels me through the hospital.
“Aren’t you supposed to be checking your list right now, Santa?” one of the nurses calls out as she goes past.
“He’s on the naughty list,” Dean says, pointing at me.
“I bet he is.” She’s almost purring.
“Oh, dear God,” I mutter under my breath. “Get me out of here.”
Dean snorts, and we carry on until we reach the ward.
“Do you know Curtis?” Dean asks.
I shake my head.
“Just a warning. He’s a journalist. He says it like it is. Don’t pay any attention to him.”
Duly warned. Dean opens the door.
“Oh fuck,” the man in the bed says as he spots us. “How much?”
How much? Does he think I’m for sale?
Dean squeezes my shoulder. “Don’t panic. It’s the Santa costume he’s annoyed about. Quit whining, Curtis. I collected your books, you’ve got a pretty man to stare at, and you can laugh at my suit.”
“I’m annoyed because I didn’t think you’d have the balls to wear it,” Curtis growls. “And I don’t stare at men.”
I want to make a crack about Santa’s balls, but I don’t know this guy, so I keep my mouth shut.
