“Wait.” Sarah touched Mick’s arm, stopping him in his tracks. Even in a sterile institutional setting, her touch set his body humming. He scanned her face. Thought he saw an answering flare of heat in her eyes in that split second before she turned back to Chastity, but it could have been a trick of the light. “Is it difficult to get a copy?” he heard Sarah ask, the sound of her voice washing over him like a whiskey bath. “Do I need documentation?”

“Her husband was unable to make the trip with us.” Mick added.

Chastity smirked. “I get it. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter. We’re friends.”

“Mm.” Chastity’s smirk broadened into a smile as she circled her hands in the air. “From the sparks I see zinging around, you two will be doing the horizontal hula any day now.”

“Will Sarah need to show ID or anything like that?” Mick asked, his voice curter than it needed to be, which apparently Chastity found hilarious.

“You’re something else, Mick. Still such a prude.” She shook her head in mock sorrow. “And after all these years, still charging windmills, saving kittens from drowning—”

A man in an inexpensive suit crossed behind Chastity. “Chas, when you finish up here, Nora could use your help?”

Chastity straightened. “Sure,” she replied over her shoulder. The man continued his journey to the copy machine. Chastity turned her attention to Sarah, all business now. “No need for IDs, documentation, nothing like that. It’s public record. You just request it. Easy-peasy. There’s no forms to fill out. Fifty cents for a plain copy, six dollars and fifty cents for a certified one.”

“What’s the difference between the two?” Sarah asked.

“Both of them are printed off the original license. The certified one is printed on special paper stock that incorporates security features and will have a raised seal on the front.”

“Thank you so much.” Sarah beamed at Chastity. “You’ve been such a big help.”

It wasn’t until they were walking along Third Street that Sarah turned to him, her hand shading her eyes against the harsh sunlight. “You used to live here?”

“Drop it,” he growled. Normally when he used that tone of voice, people shut up and backed away fast. Not Sarah. The corners of her generous mouth twitched upward, as if she were suppressing a grin. Her short, spiky hair and laugh-filled eyes made her look like a mischievous elf. All she needed was a green and red tunic and a hat with a pom-pom.