Hot Winter Nights (Heartbreaker Bay #6)(29)

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.

“Do not,” she muttered.

“Do not what?”

“Do not tell me what you think.”

He shook his head. Deal, because what he thought was that he wanted to pick her up and sling her over his shoulder and take her caveman style back to his place, where he’d unwrap her from that green spandex one inch at a time, making sure to kiss every single one of those inches as he did until she was begging him for more.

And if she wanted to scream his name while she did it, he was all for it.

“Okay,” she said, staring up at him. “I changed my mind. Tell me.”

Not even if someone was holding a gun to his head. “You look . . . green.”