Cowabunga Christmas Read Online Free PDF Page B

instead of mooing. Disturbing.
    “Barbie
sure had it right; there are Santas everywhere,” Brien said.
    “I’m
not sure this one quite knows what he’s doing.” I nodded in the direction of
Santa number four. Like the other Santas he had a large sack, but he didn’t
seem to know how to carry it. He struggled as it fell off his shoulder and repositioned
it before moving on. Santa number four managed to get down the short flight of
stairs to the golf cart path, but moved in the opposite direction from Santa
number three.
    “Must
be heavy,” Brien said. We watched him as he moved down the path, until he was
out of view. He was still struggling so I figured Brien was right.
    “Some
lucky kids must have hit the jackpot.” Just then Barbie returned with our
champagne on ice. A server right behind her set a plate of nachos in front of
Brien, and veggies with hot dip in front of me.
    “Compliments
of the house, Brien, with regards from Ken. Enjoy!” With that he was gone.
Barbie and I were grinning as the server retreated before Brien could come up
with a reply.
    “Ken
Waites, that is, our garde manger chef.” Barbie continued to smile as she
popped the cork out of the champagne bottle and filled tall, skinny flutes with
the delicious bubbly.
    “Word
gets around fast here, doesn’t it?” I asked, laughing, as delicious aromas
swirled around us.
    “Sure
does!” Brien replied, as he shrugged and inhaled deeply. “Mm, nachos, one of my
favorites!” End of discussion. Brien crunched away, scarfing down those nachos.
He gave me a thumbs up—Brien’s seal of approval.
    “Artichoke
dip—one of your favorites, too, right Kim? Can I get you anything else?” I
wondered how much info they had collected about us. I love cheesy, baked
artichoke dip.
    “This
is plenty. One more thing before you go, please. How did they know the uniform
Santa wore wasn’t yours?”
    “The
one he had on was much cheaper—a costume not a uniform. Plus, he was wearing
Rainbows—not allowed on our Santas.” Brien stopped mid-shovel, swallowed and
spoke.
    “Like
ours, Kim. A Santa wearing surfer dude sandals, can you believe that?”
    “Around
here, it could happen. We have our share of surfer dudes, Brien.” Barbie
winked, gave the champagne bottle a final twist in the ice bucket and walked
away.
    “What
if we do a quick check with the hotel security guys, Kim? I want to talk to
them pro-to-pro, you know? Then we should wander down to the beach and let me
mingle with the homies in the bro’s nest. I’d like to find out more about how
the waves are breaking these days. You really won’t mind if I catch a few later
in the week, will you?”
    “Not
at all, Brien. I love watching you surf, as long as you don’t cradle into
some sectors ,” I smiled, pleased with my command of surf talk. That means
hang with some hot girls, or so I thought.
    “Uh,
that’s creedle , not cradle, Kim. You don’t have to worry about that
anymore, I’ve got my Gidget. I’ll have you up on a board in no time, promise.”
He did that slinging his hair out of his eyes thing and my heart flip-flopped.
Or maybe it was the thought of getting up on a board. I’m not much of a sports
enthusiast. My idea of exercise is a good brisk sit, as the old saying goes.
Brien was trying to change that. I did like the idea of being his Gidget.
    “Moondoggie,
that is so sweet. I’ve got an itsy-bitsy polka dot bikini to wear, on the board
or not—you’re choice.” Brien gulped. I changed the subject. We still had investigating
to do.
    “I’ll
let you talk to hotel security. While you do that I’m going to go to the
business center and spend a little time on a computer. I wonder what’s in the
local news about our dead Santa—and what other naughty stuff might be going on
in Corsario Cove or San Albinus. Most papers, like the Desert Sun at home, keep
tabs on local crime and publish a list of incidents on a regular basis. I want
to see what turns up on the list