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  But hell if she’d do that with an audience. Pride before the fall and all that. “I think I hear your cell buzzing from the other room,” she said.

  “Shit.” He turned to the door, but not before pointing at her. “Don’t move.”

  Right. The minute he was gone, she slid out of the bed. Her right leg predictably didn’t hold and she dropped to her knees. “Dammit,” she whispered as nerve pain shot through her thigh in a series of bolt lightning blasts. “Dammit …” She grimaced through the cramp and slowly rose, breathing through the pain in short little pants as she’d learned to do.

  “My phone wasn’t ringing—” Lucas broke off and then he was there, right there, steadying her with hands on her hips. “You okay?”

  “Yes!” She shoved his hands away and tried to push his big body back too, but he was an immovable tree when he wanted to be and he stayed right here, supporting her until, finally dammit, she got her leg beneath her. She probably would have even relented and used her cane if it’d been here, not that she intended to admit it. “I’ve got this,” she muttered, stepping free, incredibly aware of how little she was wearing and how much he was.

  And worse, the look in his eyes didn’t have anything to do with sexy times, but pity. “I said I’m fine.”

  He lifted his hands. “I heard you, loud and clear.”

  “But you don’t believe it.”

  “Hard to when you’re pale from pain,” he said. “Sit down.”

  “No.”

  “Molly,” he said in that frustrated voice again. But then he hit her with a zinger she didn’t see coming. “Please,” he said quietly.

  Well, hell. She sat at the foot of the bed, and the fact that she did it just before her leg gave out again was her own little secret.

  “There’s something I need to talk to you about,” he said very seriously.

  “I’m not going to rate your performance last night.”

  “That’s not—” He paused, his eyes sharpened. “Wait. What does that mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  “So you’re saying I did suck.”

  She had to laugh. “Well, if you can’t remember it, how good could it really have been, right?”

  She was only teasing of course, but he frowned like the possibility that he hadn’t been heart-stoppingly amazing had never crossed his mind until that very moment. “What did you want to talk about?” she asked.

  Still looking distracted, he shook his head. “Two elves were waiting on you at the office this morning.”

  She raised a brow. “Are you still drunk?”

  “No, really. It was your neighbor and a friend. They were talking about their bad Santa.”

  “Mrs. Berkowitz,” she said, remembering. “She’s been working at a small pop-up Christmas village in Soma and thinks there’s something nefarious going on.”

  “You can’t take this case on, Molly. You’ve got to turn her down.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “I know you didn’t just tell me what to do. Even if we did sleep together.”

  She meant him to react to that and he did, with a grimace. “Okay, first, this”—he waggled a finger between them—“didn’t happen.”

  “And you’re so sure about that, are you?” she asked.

  Assuming by the way his mouth opened and then closed, he wasn’t sure of anything right about now. Now that they were both irritated, she got up again and dammit. Dammit, her leg still hurt. She paused, but didn’t see any way around letting him see her limp over to her clothes.

  But for the record, she hated it.

  Incredibly aware of his quiet gaze on her as she moved, she didn’t look at him. This was why she didn’t do morning afters. Well that and morning breath.

  “Do you wake up like this every morning?” he asked quietly.

  “No. I usually wake up with a good attitude, but then idiots happen.”

  “I meant your leg,” he said, ignoring her outburst. “You’re hurting.”

  She sighed. Honestly, she was always hurting. “I’m fine.” She stepped into her dress and pulled it up under his T-shirt, working like a trapeze artist to not flash him as she got it into place. Leaving his T-shirt on—she was so keeping it—she moved to the door. “Gotta go.”

  “Wait.” He caught her at the door. “About last night.”

  “I know. You don’t want it broadcasted blah blah.”

  “Whatever happened last night,” he said, eyes very intense. “It can’t happen again.”

  Something deep inside her quivered in … disappointment? And here was the thing. She knew what had happened last night. Nothing. But it still made her mad, so she snorted. “Don’t worry. With lines like ‘I’m gonna rock your world, baby,’ it most definitely won’t happen again.”

  He started to nod, but stopped. Winced. “Did I—Shit.” He stared down at his work boots for a moment before meeting her gaze again, his disarmingly concerned. “I made it good for you, right?”

  Her every single erogenous zone got a little wiggly at the thought, which annoyed the hell out of her. She shrugged.

  He looked horrified. “I didn’t?”

  The truth was, if he set his mind to it, she had no doubt he could make it good for her without even trying. Not that he was going to ever get the chance. Yes he was smart, resourceful, confident, and incredibly quick-witted. On the job, he was doggedly aggressive with razor sharp instincts that rarely failed him, things that no doubt suited him in bed as well—and the women lucky enough to be there with him. All very sexy, attractive traits in a man … for a normal woman.

  But she wasn’t normal. So she gave him one last vague smile and reached for the door.

  He put a hand flat on the wood, holding it closed.

  “Move,” she said.

  “You’re still wearing my shirt.”

  And if she wore it to work, everyone would know they spent the night together. She yanked it off, threw it at him and tugged open the door.

  “Molly.”

  There was a touch of exasperation in his voice, and also possibly regret. Since both made her want to punch him, she kept going.

  “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, fl