Santa's Pet Read Online Free Page B

face, and it buzzed a baby on his way up, then turned, panicking, and dive bombed a stroller. White feathers fluttered everywhere, and the people in line ran for cover from the crazy, screaming bird.
    Volunteers lost hold of their animals, and parents reached to cover their children. A stampede of dogs and cats thundered toward the barn door, scampering to daylight and freedom.
    Beside him, Treat howled and barked, cheering them on, “Woof, woof, aaaroohhhooo, waaahoooorrrooo! Woof, woof, ahhhwooo.”
    The girl’s mother picked her up, comforting her, then turned on Ben. “What kind of Santa are you? Scaring my daughter like this?”
    “I’m sorry, Ma’am. I’m a substitute.”
    “Substitute or not, you’re responsible. What’s your name?” she demanded.
    “Buh-Ben Powers. The bird bit me and …”
    “Do me a favor, Ben Powers,” the stern looking woman said. “Take responsibility and stop making excuses for the mess you made.”
    She swept her hand at the pandemonium. Volunteers were running circles trying to herd the loose pets. A goat was nibbling on a stroller canopy, and a gaggle of geese waddled around honking and hissing at toddlers. Parents grabbed their kids and beat a hasty retreat out the barn door.
    “What happened here?” Brittney rushed toward them. “I leave you for one minute and all hell breaks loose?”
    “Your Santa Claus dumped my little girl on the floor.” The woman, who wore a business suit, pulled off her horn-rimmed glasses and glared at them. “I’m filing a complaint with the Reeds.”
    “That would be my parents,” Brittney said, holding out her hand. “I’m Brittney Reed. How may I help you?”
    The high-powered skirt pursed her lips as she took in Brittney’s skimpy outfit, which really was nothing more than a fur-trimmed tube with a wide belt around the waist. “Is this supposed to be a child-friendly event or a burlesque show?”
    Brittney’s jaw slammed to the floor, and she crossed her arms, which only served to deepen her cleavage.
    “Hey, folks,” the tall, gawky photographer cut in. “Are we going to get a picture with another pet? How about with Santa’s dog?”
    “Waahh,” the little girl cried, screwing her knuckles into her eye sockets. “I want Big Blizzard the cockatoo.”
    “I demand a refund,” the girl’s mother yelled. “This is the most unprofessional pet rescue event ever. Whatever happened to that wonderful Santa from last year and his sweet, helpful elf?”

Chapter Four
    ~ Brittney ~
    Excuse me? Did I hear that power-suit lady correctly? Did she refer to Racy Lacy as a nice, sweet, and helpful elf? I can’t believe this. Of course, Ben screwed up, but why is she putting me down?
    As for a refund? No way. Ragamuffin’s Rescue needs all the funds they can get to put on these adoption events. It might be only twenty dollars, but it’s taking food from the pets’ mouths.
    I pick up the howling hound and dangle him in front of the girl’s face. “I’ll be glad to give you a refund, but how about a picture with Santa’s dog? He’s all the way from the North Pole. See how big his ears are?”
    Ben’s dog smiles, letting his floppy tongue hang out, but his breath is stinky and the girl turns away, pinching her nose.
    “Ewww … get that fleabag away from my daughter.” The iron skirt sneers and turns on Ben. “I’ll be filing a complaint. You roughhoused my little girl.”
    “Ma’am, I’m truly sorry.” Ben blinks rapidly, rubbing his finger. “The bird bit my finger hard.”
    “You’re not a real Santa Claus anyway.” She narrows her eyes and ogles his entire six-foot-plus height from head to toe. Grabbing the little girl who’s still blubbering, the woman stalks off.
    Wow, talk about ruining Christmas for all the children still standing around. Ben hunches his head and shuffles back to the throne, bleating a half-hearted “ho, ho, ho.”
    Several parents herd their shocked children away from the line with promises