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, 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.