Page 21 of Hacking the Holidays
My legs felt like they were vacuum-sealed in bright yellow leggings, while the forest green tunic was apparently designed for a medieval child or someone in Las Vegas whose career involved significantly fewer fabric requirements. Making matters worse was the elf hat with actual jingle bells that announced my presence from a mile away. Then there were the horrific pointed ears, jutting out from under my hair and making me look like a confused Vulcan who’d gotten lost on the way to a Renaissance fair.
“The Christmas carolers are already roaming the streets, and this place is like a beautiful postcard!” Chloe said with too much glee as she entered the hotel room. “Are you here?”
“In the bathroom,” I called out. “And don’t you dare laugh at my?—”
“What the elf?!” Chloe’s words echoed off the bathroom tiles as she entered, and immediately dissolved into the kind of laughter that made me want to hide under the bed until the new year. “You just made my day. I need to go get my phone.”
“For each picture you take, you’ll lose a limb,” I said.
“Why?” Chloe said. “You look amazing.”
“You’re confusing your adjectives. You mean ridiculous, right?” I tugged at the tunic hem for what must have been the tenth time.
“Are you kidding me? I laughed only because you caught me off guard with those ears. Hold still …” Chloe yanked the fake ears off me and tossed them on the counter. “Nobody wears those. Have you not seen the movieElf?” She circled me as if I were a sculpture she was appraising. “Much better. You just went from cute and funny to freaking hot. I’m actually kind of jealous.”
“You’re actually kind of delusional.”
“Trust me, your suspect is going to take one look at you in that outfit and forget his own name.”
“That’s exactly the problem!” I gestured wildly, making my bells jingle in protest. “I’m supposed to be conducting aprofessional investigation while undercover, not auditioning for his personal holiday fantasies.”
Chloe leaned against the sink, studying my face with the sharp attention that made her such a good agent. “Okay, what’s really going on here? You’re totally overreacting, since all you are doing right now is rocking that outfit. Is this about being with human beings?”
“Kind of …” I sighed, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “I think Sam might like me.”
She shrugged. “Not a surprise. Is that it?”
“And … I think I might like him back. A lot.”
Chloe’s eyebrows practically launched into orbit.
“No way!” She immediately clamped her hand over her mouth, then tiptoed to the door like a cartoon spy, cracked it open, scanned the hallway, and speed-walked back. “I get it; the man looks like he was carved by angels, but he’s also our prime suspect. That’s why we’re here!”
“I know!” I turned away from my reflection before I obsessed about how much the green clashed with my complexion. “Sam’s not what I expected. He’s kind, funny, and wicked smart. And his generosity is through the roof. You know what that alone does to me.”
“Like an aphrodisiac …”
“And yesterday, when I was on top of him, he?—”
“Whoa! Excuse me?” Chloe’s hand shot up like a traffic cop. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s not what you think,” I said. “I fell like an idiot in front of his desk and landed on him. Completely unintentional.”
“The best things in life usually are,” she said with a knowing smile.“Were you able to analyze the components of his cologne?”
“I think I’m missing one ingredient, maybe two …” I tried to steer the conversation back to my fears. “Anyway, there was a moment when he looked at me as if he thought I was genuinely fascinating. Not like a clumsy volunteer who needed constant supervision, but like someone worth getting to know.” My neck felt like it was radiating heat. “I’m supposed to be building a federal case, not wondering what it would be like to kiss him!”
“This is incredible,” Chloe said. “Agent Hermit is developing actual human feelings for a suspect after meeting him once. I never thought I’d see the day. My little girl is growing up.” She faked a nose sniff, then shot me a proud smile.
“You’re only one year older than me,” I said. “And I’m not developing feelings. I’m experiencing an unwanted endocrine response and increased oxytocin production, resulting in a compromised prefrontal cortex that’s creating operational complications and distorted decision-making. Big difference.”
“Sure,” Chloe said. “That’s totally why you’re having an existential breakdown in the bathroom.”
I checked my watch and moved toward the door. “Well, the breakdown has officially ended because I need to get going. Wish me luck. I’ll need it.”
We stepped out of the bathroom, and that was when we heard the video call on my laptop from Agent Thorne.
“Why is he calling now?” I asked.
