Page 32 of Hacking the Holidays
“Rose,” she repeated. “The man doesn’t strike me as the type who wanders away from an unlocked computer. Especially not for random volunteers, no matter how fetchingly they wear their elf costumes.”
“Which is why I won’t be doing the distracting.” I set down my fork and leaned closer, the pieces clicking into place. “You will.”
Chloe’s fork clattered against the plate. “Excuse me?”
“Thorne said you would provide backup as needed,” I said. “Well, I need you. Think about it. The guy’s basically a walking rescue complex. You show up at the library with literally any problem—a question about local hiking trails, a request for book recommendations, a sudden fascination with Bavarian architecture—and I guarantee he’ll drop everything to assist. Some kind of situation that requires his immediate expertise away from his desk, and boom—I’ve got a clear shot at his computer.”
“And if he doesn’t take the bait?” she asked.
“He will.” I took another bite of cheesecake, confidence building with each element of the plan. “I’ve watched him. Seduction would be wasted on him, but he never passes up achance to help someone. It’s practically a compulsion or in his DNA.”
Chloe studied me with that problem-solving expression she wore when calculating risk-versus-reward ratios. “Are you sure about this?”
I nodded. “Absolutely. It’s the perfect plan.”
We polished off the last of the cheesecake, handled the bill, and stepped out into the crisp afternoon air. Chloe dropped back immediately, maintaining the careful distance we’d agreed upon, so we entered the library separately.
Two strangers just doing their own thing.
Nothing to see here.
I walked slowly, absorbing the postcard-perfect scenery, Bavarian storefronts with their hand-painted signs and flower boxes, and the snow-capped mountains rising in the distance, their massive presence making Leavenworth feel like a fairytale.
Beautiful. Charming. Utterly deceptive.
Because what I was about to do had nothing to do with make-believe and everything to do with cold, calculated risk.
I pulled open the library’s front door and stepped inside, immediately shrugging off my jacket and hanging it on the wooden coat rack.
Eleanor glanced up from the circulation desk, her eyes widening. “Rose! Welcome back.”
“Thank you,” I said, studying her reaction. “You look surprised to see me.”
She set down her stack of books. “Well, after yesterday’s cookie catastrophe, I half expected you to flee the state and never return.”
“I’m tougher than I look.”
“Clearly.” Eleanor’s smile was warm. “Either that or you have a masochistic streak I didn’t notice yesterday.”
“Maybe both,” I said with a grin. “Besides, Sam promised me something more challenging today. I couldn’t resist.”
“He’s been vibrating with nerdy enthusiasm all day.” She gestured toward his desk in the corner. “He’s waiting for you. And don’t forget we’re all going out for bratwurst sandwiches after we close up shop this evening.”
“Looking forward to it,” I lied. Well, not about the bratwurst.
I made my way through the library, past the community room where we’d held the Santa photos the night before.
Sam was at his desk, enveloped in his work, hammering away at his keyboard. He looked up as I approached, and his face broke into a genuine smile that gave me a little jolt.
“Rose. Right on time.” He gestured to the chair beside his desk. “Have a seat. I’ve got the perfect project for you today.”
I settled into the chair, hyperaware of how close I was to his computer, to his network, to everything I had to access.
Now, I just needed to make him disappear.
With Chloe’s help, of course.
“I’m intrigued,” I said. “What qualifies as perfect in the world of library projects?” I glanced at his coffee cup and smiled when I saw what was printed on the side.
