Page 57 of Santa of the Creek
“He's not the worst boss I've ever had. He says if I go in early, I can have the afternoon off to go to the Bash with you.”
“That means you get less than four hours sleep.”
He shrugs. “It’s one night, and I get to be with you.”
“You gonna play Mister Elf for the last time?” I tease.
“Uh-uh. Sorry, Santa, you have a solo gig. I won’t get there in time and I’m gonna be too tired to deal with hyped-up kids.”
I’m disappointed, but at least I get to see him. Our time together over the past week has been limited.
“I’m glad to be home,” Echo says. “How's your evening been? Why are you still up.”
I give him a wry smile. My whole evening had been taking care of his princess, Ariel.
He laughs when I tell him that. “You made the mistake of sitting down, didn't you?”
“I did. I was tired when I came in and crashed out on the couch. I must have fallen asleep because when I woke up, Ariel was sitting on my chest staring down at me. She was very noisy.”
“I think she's fed up with me,” Echo admits.
I cup his cheek with one hand, smoothing my thumb along his cheekbone, and he nuzzles against me. “You look so tired. You've been working so hard this week.”
“Three more days, and I get Christmas off with you. I just keep hanging on to that. If one more girl offers me her phone number...”
I feel anger boil inside me at the thought of anyone trying to steal my man.
Echo snickers at my expression and kisses me. “You should see your face. Don't worry, big guy, I tell them that I'm already taken. I tell them that I’m Santa’s man.”
I know my cheeks are heating, but I'm reassured by his words. It turns out I'm a words kind of guy. I need to hear that Echo claims me too. “What do they say to that?”
“Some of them ask if they can watch.” He wrinkles his nose in disgust.
It's not the first time I've heard a woman say that, but normally she is drooling over someone online, not talking to a guy face-to-face. “That's just gross.”
“They're drunk,” Echo says, excusing them. “They don’t mean it. Most of them are married.”
I huff. I don’t feel so friendly toward the unknown women,especiallyif they are married.
“I need a shower, honey,” he says.
I've gotten used to Echo coming home stinking of beer and wings and hot sauce, and he always has a shower as soon as he gets home, saying he wants to wash off the day before he sits down with me.
Before he stands up in this case he sniffs at my hair. “Did you get a call out today?”
“No, they didn't need me today. It was a road traffic accident, out of towners not dealing with the snow. What does my hair smell like?”
“It's a kind of oily smell.” He sniffs again. “Not like car oil.”
“I slipped over on an oily patch near CC’s,” I admit, flushing at the memory.
“Are you hurt?”
“A few bruises on my butt. Nothing serious. Would you believe I was trying to avoid another dog?”
“Seriously?” Echo chuckles.
“I think Danny, of course he was with me when I landed on my ass, is suggesting make it a city ordinance that people keep their dogs on the leash.” I chuckle too. “I’m sure there’s already a leash law. I swear I remember something about it when I read the ordinances. It’s just not everyone pays attention to it. He just wants to protect me. I’m surprised he’s not smothered me in bubble wrap.”
