Page 11 of Frankie and the Fed (Untamed Rascals #3)

I pictured a little version of Frankie running around here, calling every dinosaur by its proper scientific name, because Frankie wouldn’t allow for anything less.

My chest tightened at the picture, and longing shot through me like nothing ever has.

That was—what was that about?

“Anyway, my tour is over. I didn’t expect to see you until later.” I smiled at her and tried to put the images floating through my head out of my mind.The last thing I needed was to be distracted from my job by someone else’s imaginary future.

“I needed a break.” She leaned back against the wall beside me. If I turned just a little, we would touch.

“I have to go set up the red room for a ten-year-old’s birthday party. Want to help?” I teased her, fully expecting her answer to be no.

No one liked working in the party room—nicknamed the red room in honor of the horror that awaited anyone assigned to it for a child’s party .

“Set up, right?”

“Yes. I promise. No kids yet.” I laughed at her and leaned toward her, just a little.

“Well, I guess I can help for a bit. Since you will be the one tortured in it later,” she teased, her eyes sparkled with mischief, and I swear she moved closer to me, too.

“Don’t remind me.” I laughed. One deep breath and my chest would brush along hers. Suddenly, that was all I could think about. My skin tingled in anticipation, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t touch her. I had a feeling I would be lost forever if I did.

“As long as I don’t get caught helping. I wouldn’t want them to think I was working or helpful or”—she shuddered—“willing to take on extra work.”

“Heaven forbid Francesca Woolbridge take on extra work.” Shit. I knew my slip as soon as it came out of my mouth.

Her expression turned into a curious and guarded one.

“I haven’t told you my full name. Are you spying on me?” She asked, her tone a little too serious to be teasing.

My heart stopped at her question, and a thousand possibilities ran through my mind.

She knew.

She saw and recognized me that night, or maybe she saw me stalking her, after all.

I’d been burned.

My time here was over.

The last thought was chilling. I wasn’t ready to leave. I scrambled for a moment before I saw the entrance to this exhibit.

“I guessed that was you.” I pointed at the picture of her family, that listed each member as donors to this museum. She didn’t look much like this picture, but there was enough of the Frankie standing before me in the way young Francesca stood to give it away.

Of course, that’s not why I knew her name, but I hoped it would allay any suspicion.

She scrunched up her nose at the picture.“Right. I forgot that it was there. I wish they would take it down and let us just be a name.”

Relief at not being caught washed through me. I really needed to be more careful.

I pushed off the wall and guided us to the red room, running late after getting distracted by her.

“Was that a request of the museum or your parents?” I latched onto the new topic.

We were walking side by side now. Close enough that her hand occasionally brushed along mine and I had the oddest desire to reach out and grab it. I shoved my hands in my pockets so I didn’t.

“My parents, I’m sure. They think they fly under the radar, but they still never miss an opportunity to plaster the family name everywhere,” she grumbled, clearly her family was a sore spot for her. Something I understood perfectly.

“You resent that?”

“I was in the news a lot when I was younger because my mom’s family is…

well, it doesn’t matter. My parents drilled perfection into me from such a young age that I was on anti-anxiety meds before I was even in high school.

I didn’t get to be Frankie the little girl having fun.

I tried, but it was never my destiny.” She sounded so morose, and I stamped down any pity I felt for her.

I knew why she had been in the news. Her mother was related to Spanish royalty, and her dad was a hedge fund manager who built a dubious reputation overseas. Of course, she couldn’t know I knew all that.

I needed to remember that I wasn’t talking to an average run-of-the-mill person here. I was talking to someone who had been taught to hide her true self from birth.

I didn’t like how closely I related to that.

Hiding came so naturally these days, I barely had to try.

“Is that why you wear wigs?”I shouldn’t have asked, it was none of my business. Well, it wouldn’t be Jamie the Tour Guide’s business, at least.

She reached up and played with the dark green locks. “Not just that, but yeah. It’s like a mask. Hides me, or at least a part of me, from people that don’t deserve to see it.”

“What does your real hair look like?” I couldn’t stop the question. It barreled out of me and into the space between us.

She shrugged and forced a laugh as she reached for her hair, stopping before she touched the wig and let her hand drop. “Hair. I guess. Brown, you can see that in any picture when you search my name.”

“Right. I guess I know what I’m doing tonight.” Shit. Shut up, Jamie. She didn’t need to know how much time I spent obsessing over her—or why.

“I thought you were going with me on the ghost tour.” She bumped her shoulder against me, a little more at ease than when she had been talking about her family.

“I can do both,” I said, laughing.

I brushed off the unease churning within me that felt an awful lot like betrayal.

Being friends with her for the investigation was just part of the job, and I didn’t owe her anything.

I also buried that little voice that said tonight was a date while I was at it.

Dating a suspect was out of the question.

Getting close to her for information was the line, and I wouldn’t cross it.

We reached the red room. The museum had wisely put it in an out of the way location, one that wouldn’t disturb the other guests.

Frankly, I was surprised they had one at all.

I wasn’t sure what kind of kid wanted to go to the museum for their birthday, but we had a steady stream of clients, so what did I know?

“Thank you, by the way,” I said as we pulled the party supplies out of the closet. We did a basic set-up—plastic tablecloths, some dinosaur themed decorations, and enough tables and chairs to seat twenty rambunctious children.

Her cheeks were a pretty shade of pink when I turned around. Oh my. I stared at her a moment too long, watching as the blush deepened, wondering just how far down her top it went. What the hell had gotten into me?

“I’m happy to help.” She took the stack of tablecloths from me and set them on the nearest table. I spun back to the closet so she wouldn’t catch me staring.

“Literally no one is happy to help in the red room, and I think I only get it so much because I’m new and they’re hazing me.” I didn’t turn back around until the contrast between her pink blush and green hair left my mind.

She laughed. “They are not hazing you.”

“Maybe not, but I definitely get the weird grunt work. I didn’t think being a tour guide at a museum would involve so much snot and old men hitting on me. Sometimes, at the same time.”

She laughed again. The tinkling sound warmed something deep inside me .

“Really old or just kind of old?” She filled a balloon decorated with little white triceratops and added it to the growing bundle of inflated dinosaur themed balloons.

“I’m counting every man that hits on me as old because anyone thinking that’s appropriate lost their damn mind in the Stone Age.” I spread out a tablecloth and topped it with the balloons she had blown up and tied to little pterodactyl shaped weights.

“I can confidently say that none of them were born in the Stone Age. Now, the Bronze Age…” She didn’t finish her sentence, but I laughed anyway.

“Is that Dr. Woolbridge speaking?” I teased her, all thoughts of my real job forgotten in our easy banter and the comfortable lightness filling me, like I was the one being filled with helium.

“Naturally.” She straightened from where she helped me put another tablecloth on and adjusted her imaginary white coat and glasses.

“Brat.” I threw a balloon at her. It hit her on the head before floating to the ceiling above. Oops.

The door opened, and a bespectacled man poked his head inside.

“Oh, Frankie, here you are. What an odd place to be? I had to check the cameras just to find you,” he said, nervously adjusting his glasses. He was on the museum’s board. Carl Glasston. Ancient, stuffy, and easily cleared from connection to my case.

Frankie sighed and rolled her eyes before she plastered on a passingly convincing smile and turned to the man.

“Yes, well, it was my break, and our new tour guide keeps getting stuck with red room duty. So, I thought I would help her out.” She pointed at me, and I just stood there like a deer in headlights.

I was a goddamn federal agent on an undercover mission. I shouldn’t be nervous, but at no point was I prepared to get in trouble here… or get Frankie in trouble. I was just earning her trust.

Apparently, freezing and looking slightly terrified was exactly the right response because he just nodded and then gestured for Frankie to join him.

“Right, well, break time is over. I need your help with a potential donor. They are looking to make a sizable donation to expand the Paleozoic exhibit, and I could use your expertise.”

Somehow, I didn’t think it was her experience as Dr. Woolbridge that he was looking for. By the slump in Frankie’s shoulders, subtle but still noticeable, at least to me, she didn’t either.

“Fine. See you tonight, Jamie.” She turned to me, her back completely to Carl, rolled her eyes, and stuck out her tongue.

I barely held back a laugh.