Page 8 of Santa of the Creek

“Randy’s gonna kill me,” Echo mutters.

“You should give the thing a swift burial,” I suggest. “I swear it was attacked by moths last year.”

Echo tilted his head to look at me. “That explains the holes in the butt.”

Then he waggles his eyebrows. Bastard! Hole in his butt? He knows exactly where my mind wanders.

Tony snorts, missing the byplay as he focuses on retrieving the scissors from his pack. “He didn’t even replace the costume? That’s so like Randy.”

Echo sighs. “You’re telling me.”

Tony grins at me over the top of Echo’s head. I return the smirk before I even think about it. I’m not used to people smiling at me. No one relaxes around me. I’m the mayor’s brother. They worry I’m going to snitch to Danny. Like I would. Folks ought to know that, but still they worry.

I could murder a coffee right now.

“I need a coffee,” Echo murmurs.

I jolt, making him cry out.

“Hey, you need to keep our patient still,” James said.

I flush at the scolding.

“I’m sorry,” I say to Echo. “I literally just thought about a coffee.”

“From CCs,” he says dreamily.

“You don’t want a shot?” Tony asks.

Echo shakes his head. “I don’t drink. Night after night of dealing with drunk people put me off for life. Coffee now, that’s a different matter. I could drink coffee all day.”

I grin at him. “Me too. Will and Cameron say I keep CCs alive single-handed.”

“Will says that to me too. That’s what he tells us all.”

“I can’t touch caffeine,” James admits. “I get bad migraines.”

“You poor thing,” Echo says, his tone sympathetic, and you can tell he means it.

I nod in agreement. I don’t know how I’d get through the day without regular caffeine.

“No coffee for you, mister. Nothing until the docs look at that leg. You might need surgery.”

Echo groans and rubs his face. “Randy isreallygoing to kill me if I need to take time off. I can hardly serve beer on crutches.”

“Don’t worry about that just yet,” Tony says. “I’m going to splint your leg. Then we’ll get you to the hospital.”

He looks outside the double doors. I follow his gaze. Fresh snow is falling.

“I hope they’ve cleared the roads,” James says.

We all grunt in agreement. Driving through thick snow is never fun. But we’re used to it in Collier’s Creek.

James and Tony work efficiently, and soon Echo is on the gurney and ready to go. I stagger as I get to my feet, biting back a groan as blood rushes to my legs.

Echo gives me a knowing look. “Pins and needles?”

“My toes are on fire,” I confess, waggling one foot, and we share a laugh.