“We can make it work,” Nico said. “Do you want me to take over contact with the investigator and keep you updated?”
“What would I do without you? Thanks. Work usually slows down during summer but you’re sure accompanying Valerie won’t be too much?”
“Not at all,” he said honestly.
Roger paused. “I know you’re upset I kept this from you. I’m sorry for that.”
Nico’s throat tightened uncomfortably that he could have been so obvious. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not that I didn’t trust you,” continued Roger. “It was too hard to talk about.”
“I get it.” Nico did too. It was easier to deal with things by not saying them out loud.
“I only told Valerie because she needed to know why I wanted her in Mariposa. I’m glad I could tell you at the same time.”
That consideration made Nico feel better but also ashamed for the brief resentment he’d shown Valerie. He hoped she hadn’t noticed. “I’m happy to help.”
“Thanks for working with her on her backstory,” said Roger, as if that hadn’t provided the highlight of Nico’s week, if not month. Possibly year, despite the mixed feelings. “Good job. I knew I could count on you to think through all the issues.”
There it was, the appreciation for Nico’s effort that always made him feel like he’d made the right choice to stay with Roger. “Thanks.”
“I’d better get back on the road. Are you going to hit the market on the way?”
“Yes, I’ve got your list.”
“Don’t forget to grab some peanut butter. It’ll be good with the traffic jam.”
Nico gave the obligatory groan. Roger’s jokes proved the limitation of both the nature and nurture arguments, because there was no way being born a Badgerton or being raised in that stultified atmosphere should have resulted in a man with such a corny sense of humor.
A tumult came from the doors and Nico didn’t have to look to know it was Valerie. She waved frantically, although they were the only people on the street and he was three meters away. “Hi, Nico!”
Her hair looked more purple than red in the sun, and she was wearing a full black skirt, tight at the waist and coming to her knees. Her top was blue and tied around her neck to leave her shoulders bare. She smiled at him like they were old friends and he knew, somehow, she would smell sweet, like cookies.
She was also surrounded by enough luggage to outfit a cruise ship.
“I could have helped you with the bags.” He was irrationally upset at the thought of her hauling them down by herself.
Her eyebrows rose slightly. “Because I’m such a delicate flower?”
Answering either yes or no seemed problematic, so he turned his attention to the suitcases and tried not to pant as he hauled them into the trunk next to his single bag. Valerie was not a light traveler and he had a newfound respect for the strength in those bare arms. “What’s in here? The kitchen sink?”
“Original.” Valerie came close to point at her luggage. She didn’t smell of baking, but roses. He liked it. “Clothes for sunny days, coolnights, and rain, as per your extremely comprehensive list. Shoes. Swimsuits. My crochet. Needlepoint. Knitting.”
“How many crafts do you need for eight weeks?” He pulled down the trunk, jumped back when it ricocheted up, then shifted the bags around to make them fit.
“I like to rotate them so I don’t get bored.”
He opened the car door and she slid in. Nico lifted his eyes from where the hidden slit of her skirt spread to reveal her thigh as she kept talking. “They also give me a reason to sit quietly and listen to people.”
“Knitting as a reconnaissance tool.”
She shot him some finger guns. “Spycraft 101. I did an online course offered by MI6.”
“You did?” He couldn’t tell if she was kidding because all options seemed possible when it came to Valerie. Since they were now coworkers, instead of client and vendor, she’d relaxed and the parts of her energetic personality he’d only previously glimpsed were on full and glorious display.
“No, but I feel that’s advice they’d give. The crafts give me an excuse to fade into the background.”
He respected that kind of forward thinking, although he couldn’t picture a situation where Valerie could fade into anything. Nico negotiated the parking lot that was Dupont Street as she fiddled with the radio and landed on something with an excessive BPM that sounded like Saturday night at the club. She wedged her shoulder into the seat to face him and Nico kept his eyes ahead so he wouldn’t get distracted. He could listen to Valerie or look at Valerie, but doing both was a lot.
