“The elves,” he said to her back. “The bad Santa case. Tell me you’re not taking it on.”
“I can’t tell you that, since I’m no longer talking to you.” She made her way down the stairs and to the courtyard, walking past the pet shop, the office supply shop, and the new day spa, heading right for The Canvas Shop. One of the people who worked there, Sadie, had given Molly her one and only tattoo, and a friendship had been born of the experience.
Sadie waved at her. She wasn’t alone. Ivy was with her. Ivy operated the taco truck on the street along the back of the building. Like Molly, Ivy sometimes ducked into The Canvas Shop for some calm sanity, which Sadie always provided along with a side of sarcasm.
Both women had become new friends even if it felt like they’d known each other forever.
“How’s things?” Molly asked.
“Given that it’s a work day . . .” Ivy shrugged. She hopped down off of the counter and headed to the door. “Try to have a good one!” she called back before vanishing.
“And you?” Molly asked Sadie.
Sadie gazed at the shop’s small Christmas tree, under which were a nice stack of wrapped presents, and sighed. “Well, none of the gifts with my name on them have barked yet, which is disappointing . . .” She took in Molly’s appearance and her eyes widened. “Whoa. Wait a minute. You were wearing those same clothes when I last saw you. Yesterday. Am I witnessing the rarest of creatures, Molly Malone making the never before seen Morning Walk of Shame?”
Molly grimaced.
And Sadie grinned. “Yay, Christmas came early for me. Did all your parts still remember how to work?”
“Okay, it’s not what it looks like.”
“Bummer,” Sadie said.
“Can I borrow your shower?”
“Absolutely,” Sadie said, nodding so that her jet black hair, streaked with purple, flew around her face. “And in exchange for the deets, I’ll even throw in some clothes.”
This was a good deal because Sadie had amazing clothes. Today she was in a pretty flowy top, skintight jeans, and some seriously kickass ankle boots that would have had Molly drooling if she wasn’t already completely thrown over the night and morning she’d just had. “No deets,” she said firmly. “But I’ll buy you a coffee and muffin from the coffee shop on my first break if you have Advil.”
Sadie pulled a small bottle from her purse. “Welcome to adulthood, where having Home Advil and Purse Advil is everything. Who was he?”
“Who?”
Sadie rolled her eyes and Molly sighed. “I’m not telling.”
Sadie cocked her head and studied her. “Lucas.”
“What the actual hell,” Molly said.
Sadie’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Are you serious? I’m right?” She laughed with sheer delight. “Nice choice,” she said approvingly.
“No. No, he’s not a ‘nice’ choice, or any choice,” Molly said. “He’s . . .”
“Hot?” Sadie inquired.
Well, okay, yes.
“Perfect?” Sadie asked.
“No,” Molly said quickly. “Not perfect.”
“Good,” Sadie said. “‘The One’ should never be perfect.”
“And he’s not The One either,” Molly said. “That’s absurd.” For many, many reasons, not the least being that while Lucas was incredibly serious on the job, off the job he was . . . not. He joked around nonstop and women tended to flock to that charming flirt thing he had down pat. But not her.
Never her.
She had . . . trust issues with that kind of guy, big-time.
“Okay,” Sadie said, nodding. “You’re not ready for The One. Make him The One for a night then. Before someone else comes along and snags him up.”
Molly opened her mouth and then shut it, afraid to let anything out. Such as how much she hated the idea of Lucas sleeping with another woman. Which wasn’t a comfortable realization at all. Get over it, she told herself firmly, and fast.
By the time she walked into Hunt’s office twenty minutes later, she’d lost her amusement for the game of letting Lucas think they’d slept together. Mrs. Berkowitz was no longer waiting on her, but a million other things were, including a battle with Hunt’s health insurance company over some of the coverage from Lucas’s medical care.
Normally, she loved her job. There hadn’t been money for her to go to college, and her plan to get a track and field scholarship had died when she’d wrecked her leg. Out of desperation she’d gone into admin work while Joe had been away in the military. She’d moved around a bit, gathering skills, until Joe had come home and landed at Hunt Investigations, bringing her into the fold as well.
But after two years behind the front desk, she wanted more. She’d begged Archer to let her also take on the background checks and research that overloaded his men, and he’d been all too happy to comply. She’d kicked ass too, providing them with superior intel all year. Yeah, they had their resident IT person—Lucas himself—but she could be just as good as him with some training.
Probably.
In any case, she’d loved getting a foot in the investigative door, but instead of satisfying her, she only craved more.
She wanted to go out in the field.
Archer had told her point-blank that while she had a brilliant mind and he was grateful for it, he couldn’t let her get hurt. Joe had been far less diplomatic, flatly refusing to discuss it with her. And that’s when she’d realized that when they looked at her they didn’t see brilliant investigation work, they saw vulnerability and weakness. And she got it. Appearance made a strong impression, and her physical appearance suggested weakness, not strength.
There was nothing she could do about that but prove them wrong.
“Need you to fax us the paperwork,” the insurance guy said in her ear after being on hold for thirty minutes. “I told you this already, last week.”
“Right,” Molly said. “I’ll just jump into my DeLorean and drive back to 1987 to get my fax machine. Can’t I just scan you the pages?”
“We don’t accept scans. They must be faxed or snail-mailed.”
She needed more caffeine for this, and after her call, she hit up the staff room, where she came face-to-face with Archer. She pointed at him. “You turned away those two sweet little old ladies who needed your help.”
“We don’t take those kinds of cases.”
She glared at him. “You mean old people cases?”
In typical Archer fashion, he refused to engage. “We’re booked up solid for the next five months. I don’t have the manpower available.”
“Or the interest?”
Archer didn’t sigh, but he looked like he wanted to. “Look, I know you’re bored. I know you want to do more. I get it. I’m working on it. But I’m not going to throw you into things without the proper training and field experience before you’re ready. You’ll eventually get a caseload of your own. I promise you that, but when it’s right. Okay?”
She sighed. “Okay.”
“You’re a valuable part of this company, Molly. I’m not just placating you here. All I’m asking for is a little patience on your end until you’re ready.”
“Are you sure it’s not the other way around? That you’re not ready for me?”
At that, she got a rare smile and a low laugh. “The world isn’t ready for you.” Archer let his smile fade. “But they will be, and when things happen, you’ll be prepared, and safe because of it.”
“And in the meantime?”
“I’m bringing you in on two new cases where we need your research and intel. They’re in your in-box waiting on you.”
She knew this was a bone, but she’d take it. And though she appreciated the vote of confidence, she was having trouble accessing her patience. Especially when she ran into Joe a few minutes later.
“You’re not taking on any cases,” her brother said flatly while stuffing a huge sandwich down his throat. He’d just come in from a takedown that had involved the entire team and he had three minutes before he had to head back out again for surveillance on another job.