by Jill Shalvis
The craft stands held some beautifully created things and Molly used that to instigate some conversation with the two elves in charge.
“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.
“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.”
She rolled her eyes. “Funny.” She started walking down the first aisle. She got several feet in front of him, enough that he could admire the back view every bit as much as he’d admired the front view.
Realizing he wasn’t following her, she turned in exasperation. “You coming?”
Unfortunately, no. There’d be no coming for him any time soon. “Where are you going?”
“I’m working eight o’clock bingo. Thought you’d want to buy in and sit in the back and check things out.”
“Bingo,” he repeated.
“Yep. You’ve got yourself a real live wire for the evening. You ready for this?”
He looked down into her eyes and had to laugh. He considered himself a man who’d seen and done it all, but he’d never felt so out of his league in his entire life. He was in no way ready for this. Not for bingo. Not for working so closely with her. He wasn’t close to ready for any of it, but especially not ready for her. “Lead the way,” he said.
She flashed him a smile that dazzled him even more than her skimpy elf costume. “Follow me.”
As if he could do anything but.
Chapter 11
#BingoBabe
Molly learned two things about herself that night. One, bingo wasn’t some sweet little old lady thing. It was a no-holds-barred, cutthroat, winner takes all thing.
And two, Lucas was an old lady magnet. He sat quietly by himself, but as the room filled with patrons, he was virtually surrounded and ooh’d and aah’d over.
“You new, honey?” asked one.
“No worries,” cooed another, sitting on his other side. “We’ll show you the ropes.”
He looked up and met Molly’s gaze. She would have said the big, badass Lucas Knight wasn’t afraid of anything, but there was a good amount of fear in his eyes at the moment. She sent him a grin and a thumbs-up.
Two seconds later, her phone buzzed with a text.
I will get even . . .
Oh boy. She risked another peek at him, and even surrounded by trembling gray hair buns, he flashed her a look that had her insides quivering.
Why was it getting more difficult to resist him?
“What do you need me to do?” she asked the two green-capped elves at the front who’d introduced themselves as Shirley and Lorraine.
“Well since you look like the hottest elf anyone’s ever seen,” Shirley said, “you’re on numbers. When it pops up on the screen, you call it. Loudly. Most of the payers are deaf so we also flash it on a big screen. Lorraine will do that. Don’t forget to flirt with the crowd, wink, stuff like that.”
“And shake it,” Lorraine said. “Maybe we’ll get bigger tips and the boss’ll finally be happy and pay it forward and give us a bigger cut of them tonight.”
“I didn’t get to meet him,” Molly said. “Is he . . . unhappy?”
“Shouldn’t be,” Janet said, coming up to the bingo table. “Sorry I’m late.”
Molly looked at her, surprised to see her because the other night at her kitchen table, Janet had mentioned she wouldn’t be working again until she got paid what she felt she had coming.
Janet shrugged. “The green-capped elves get better tips,” she said. “And I need the money.”
“Apparently so does Santa,” Shirley said. “He just built a new home in Napa and bought a brand-new car. And he’s started renovations on this hall.” She pointed to the back half of the building, which was completely draped from view by tarps.
“And he sent his latest wife on a three-month world cruise,” Lorraine said. “Don’t forget that one. Carol went from a green cap to the Mrs. Santa cap without having to pass Go!”
“Didn’t you hear?” Shirley asked. “Carol dumped him last month. Rumor is, he’s working on someone new.”
“Wait, you guys don’t get your cut of the tips either?” Molly asked, trying to keep them on track.
The ladies all looked at each other and suddenly zipped it.
“Look, I don’t mean to pry,” Molly said. “But you’re entitled to your own tips, you know. If you all said something, maybe—”
“Listen,” Shirley said, looking around to make sure no one was looking at them. “You’re new so you don’t know, but it’s not healthy to ask a lot of questions around here.”
“Not healthy?” Molly asked. “What, are we in a mob movie?”
The ladies didn’t crack a smile.
Okaaaaay. “The woman in the office who hired me, Louise, she told me that we all get minimum wages plus a cut of the tips, and then a percentage of the profits.”
The elves snorted.
Shirley looked around and then leaned in. “Near as we can figure out, they’re skimming off the top, as if to make sure no one was paying them any attention, stealing all the profits, which leaves us with only bare minimum wage.”
“And you’re sure there really are profits?” Molly asked.
“Trust me, yes,” Shirley said. “You’ll see at the end of the night.”
They then proceeded to run bingo for three straight hours to a crowd of geriatrics who took the game incredibly seriously.
“I thought older people got tired early,” Molly said to Shirley at one point.
Shirley laughed. “Not when bingo’s on the table.”
By the end of the night, Molly still hadn’t seen Santa or his damn brother, and her feet were killing her.
Shirley sent her a sympathetic glance as the crowd finally began to thin out. “The trick is orthopedic shoes.” She lifted a foot to show off her black thick-soled shoe, which was possibly the ugliest footwear Molly had ever seen. It actually hurt her to look at it.
“Wear these babies,” she said, “and you’ll have no problems.”
Molly nodded. She didn’t have many vices, but shoes were one of them. It was a well-known fact that she spent way too much of her paycheck buying shoes that wouldn’t hurt her back, leg or feet and still looked amazing, and she wasn’t about to stop doing that. Not even for her case.
Lorraine came close, eating a big cookie, and Molly’s mouth watered.
“Thought you were on a diet,” Shirley said to Lorraine.
The elf shoved in the last of her cookie. “If you eat fast enough, your Fitbit thinks you’re running.”
Shirley rolled her eyes, but Molly thought Lorraine might be onto something.
“We were so busy tonight we didn’t even get to chat. New Girl,” Lorraine said to Molly, “you did good. When that old geezer asked if you give out happy endings and patted your ass, I started over there to hit him over the head with my tray for you, but you handled yourself like a pro.”
Molly smiled. She’d leaned into the guy and asked him if he liked his hand. He’d said he liked it very much. And then she’d suggested in that same polite, conversational tone that if he wanted to keep his hand, he might want to remove it from her hind-end or the six foot plus guy heading toward them with narrowed eyes was going to remove it for him—if she didn’t remove it first.
“Oh jeez.” The old man had gulped hard, apologized, and tipped her twenty bucks. “Tell your man that I’m farsighted and was trying to grab a drink and not your posterior,” he whispered frantical
ly. “Yeah?”
“If you promise not to touch another elf without permission. Or anyone, for that matter, anyone.”
He nodded like a bobblehead and she’d moved on, giving Lucas a long, I’ve-got-this look. He’d vanished after that, but she’d bet that he’d remained close by, watching her back.
A man dressed in Santa gear minus the hat, wig, and beard strode up the center of the room. He was fiftyish and wearing a grim expression as he grabbed the very large lockbox of cash and tipped it over, dumping it straight into a duffle bag. “How did it go?” he asked Shirley.
“Fantastic. The new girl raked it in for us.”
Santa’s eyes swept over Molly and narrowed. “Who are you?”
“The new girl,” Molly said. “Santa, I presume?”
“Did Louise vet you?”
“Yep,” she said with a smile.
It wasn’t returned. Without a “nice to meet you” or so much as a “thank you,” he hoisted the duffle bag over one shoulder and strode back out of the room without talking to anyone else.
“That is one seriously unmerry Santa,” Molly said.
Janet shrugged. “He has his moments.”
“And he’s the big boss?” Molly asked, fishing.
“Him and his brother,” Shirley said. “Though luckily we don’t see much of that one. He comes by to pick up Santa late at night after most of us are gone—which is just as well since he’s a mean son of a bitch.”
“And Santa’s not?”
Janet shrugged again. “Not as bad as his brother. His brother makes the Grinch look like a sweetheart.”
“To be fair,” Shirley said, “the Grinch never really hated Christmas. He hated people, which is fair.”
“That was a lot of cash,” Molly said. “That huge cash box was jam-packed.”
Shirley shoved open a window and stuck her head out to light a cigarette. She inhaled deeply with a look of pure pleasure on her face. When she exhaled, she pulled her head back in and nodded at Molly. “Mostly. We were busy tonight because the seniors all got their social security checks yesterday. They cash ’em out and we’re their first stop.”
The elves dispersed after that and Molly stepped outside into the dark night to find Lucas leaning against the building, waiting for her.
