Hot Winter Nights Read online

  “Holiday shopping,” Molly said with a friendly smile and picked up a small reindeer knitted cap. “Cute.”

  “It’s for dogs,” one of the elves said. “I make them. My own Fluffy was the model for that one.”

  “Cute,” Molly said and bought it for her dad’s new emotional support dog. And to hopefully encourage some more chatting. “What a fun job this must be.”

  “Used to be,” the elf said wistfully. “I’ve been doing this with my girls for years now. Last year we made enough to go to Vegas. Eleanor, my sister, she married an Elvis impersonator.” Her smile faded. “But this year’s different.”

  “How so?” Molly asked.

  “Well, for one thing, the big boss isn’t paying us nearly what he should. He’s claiming he’s not making any money this year.”

  Lucas looked around. “That might actually be true.”

  The elf waved this off. “Everyone’s just in seven o’clock bingo right now. Emptying their social security checks and pockets into Santa’s coffers. Trust me, he’s making plenty. It’s just not trickling down, the bastard.”

  “Alice,” the elf in the next booth called out. “Loose lips sink ships.”

  Alice rolled her eyes and went back to her knitting.

  Molly and Lucas moved down the aisle, but though the few other elves working were friendly, they didn’t open up in spite of the fact that Molly bought another hat, a scarf, and a throw blanket.

  At the beginning of the next aisle of stands, there was a sign.

  Elves wanted

  And another at the end of that row too. This sign was out in front of a large trailer, the kind that construction sites used as offices. Molly stared at the trailer and then turned to Lucas.

  “No,” he said.

  She crossed her arms. “I don’t know if you realize this or not, but when someone tells me no, I tend to rebel for rebelling sake.”

  “Good to know,” he said and gestured with his hand. “Then by all means, apply to work for a guy who’s a known asshat and also a possible felon.”

  “His brother’s the felon,” she said.

  He shook his head. “I stand corrected. Go to work for two known asshat felons.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Thrusting her lemonade at him, she headed to the office door.

  “Shit,” he muttered to himself. “You walked right into that one, Ace.” He tossed her drink into a trash bin and started to follow her.

  She held out a hand to stop him. “You’re waiting here.”

  He came forward enough that her hand bumped into his chest. “Like you did at my mom’s?”

  She left her palm on him. She had no idea how he did it, but he was always warm, and given the even steady beat of his heart, always collected. “You have to,” she said. “They’re not going to hire me if I have a big, badass bodyguard with me.”

  His hand came up and covered hers still on him. “I’d be happy to guard your body any day of the week, but don’t forget you made a deal. We’re partners in this.”

  “I know,” she said. “So I’m going to follow this angle and you’re going to follow another, and we’ll meet up and compare notes.” She started to pull back to walk off but he still had a hold of her hand.

  “Molly—”

  “Don’t say I can’t do this.”

  “Actually,” he said. “You’re smart, resourceful, and incredibly crafty about getting your way. I think you can do anything you set your mind to. But tonight, you’re limited.”

  She stiffened. “I’m not—”

  “You’re favoring your leg,” he said quietly. “In a big way. If you have to run—”

  “I can run. I pass Archer’s fitness test every year like the rest of you,” she said hotly, as he was currently standing on her biggest, most rawest nerve point.

  “But you’re in pain,” he said.

  “So what?” She gave him a push. “I’m almost always in pain. I deal with it, so you can too.”

  He drew in a deep breath, as if the thought of her in pain caused a mirroring pain in him. But that resonated a little too close to pity for her and she went hands on hips. “I’ve got this,” she said. “Unless you think I can’t handle it.”

  He was a smart man and he apparently knew a dare when he heard one. He wisely let go of her hand. And she walked into the office and found another elf behind a counter, whose fingers were racing over the keys of an ancient adding machine.

  “Hi,” Molly said. “I’m here about an elf job.”

  The woman looked up. Like the others, she too was at least seventy, which Molly was really hoping wasn’t a requirement for getting hired.

  “You want to be an elf?” she asked Molly doubtfully.

  “Yes.”

  “But you’re like . . . twelve.”

  “I’m twenty-eight,” Molly said.

  The elf blinked. “But you’re not even getting social security for at least a million years.”

  “Or never,” Molly said. “Given the current political climate and all.”

  The woman didn’t crack a smile.

  “My name’s Molly. And you are . . . ?”

  “Louise.”

  “Well, you’re right, Louise, I don’t get social security checks. Is that a requirement?”

  “No, being on social security isn’t a requirement. It’s just usually what it is,” Louise said.

  “And what do the elves do exactly?”

  “They follow Santa’s orders. The elves in the white caps are the worker bees. They’ve created the goods and work the booths and sell food. The elves in the green caps run bingo. I’m assuming you don’t knit, crochet, sew, or embroider?”

  “Why would you assume that?”

  “Because no one under fifty does those things.”

  Right. “Okay, so I’d have to be a green capped elf,” Molly said. “Am I hired?”

  “Do you have any elf experience?”

  “Well, I’ve got experience with bossy, alpha men and getting them to do whatever I need them to do,” Molly said honestly. “And I look good in green.”

  She hoped.

  “Those things are indeed a plus,” Louise said and slid off her stood. She stretched, popping her neck and back. “Lord, if only I was sixty again.” She grabbed a clipboard and handed it to Molly. “Fill out this form.”

  “And then I’m hired?”

  “If you can fit the last costume we have in stock.” Louise looked Molly over critically and then went to a closet and pulled out a hangar from which hung a few scraps of green shimmery stretchy material. “It’s extra small because the last woman to wear it was like four foot ten on a good day with heels, so not sure it’s going to cover all your business.”

  Oh boy.

  She was directed to a bathroom, where she locked herself in and glanced in the mirror. “For elves everywhere,” she told herself and began to strip.

  Lucas had walked the entire length of the village while waiting on Molly to come out of the office. He’d been smiled at, winked at, and even propositioned by one particular feisty elf running a cotton candy booth.

  He had to give these ladies credit. Either they were taking their replacement hormones and vitamins every day, or he’d stepped into the Twilight Zone.

  He’d texted Molly twice with a question mark. She’d answered him back with two exclamation marks.

  He had no idea what that meant.

  By the time the office door finally opened again, he’d eaten three hot dogs and two soft pretzels and he’d been groped by the elf who’d served him.

  Molly stepped out of the office wearing . . . Christ. The smallest elf costume known to man, complete with elf ears, an elf cap, and a little green spandex dress that appeared to be shrink-wrapped to her body. A body that had his mouth going dry.

  She flashed him a self-deprecating smile and he was struck dumb and mute for so long she managed to come down the steps, cross the aisle, and come toe to toe with him before his wits returned.

&