“Tell me where you want me, Mrs. Claus.”
“Anywhere that keeps that jacket away from the blender,” I said. “I can’t explain Santa fur in a frozen drink to the health department.”
“It’s not fur.”
“It’s shedding like it has feelings.”
Nico glanced at the white trim on his sleeve, then at the packed bar. “Do you want numbers first or tourist control?”
“That depends. Are the numbers going to ruin Christmas?”
“The blue specials paid for Christmas.”
“Then numbers first. I can handle tourists with peppermint in their hair.”
He slid the tablet across the bar. His big hand stayed on the edge, close enough that I could see the small red bow tied around the wrist of his fancy watch. I’d put it there before we opened. He’d given the bow nine seconds of wounded dignity, then worn it like he hadn’t threatened men for a living six months ago.
The deposit total glowed on the screen.
I stared at it.
Then I stared harder.
“Nico.”
“It’s right.”
“Don’t use your calm accounting voice when I’m looking at Christmas miracles.”
“It’s not a miracle. It’s sales, margin, payroll discipline, and you making tourists believe blue tequila foam is a holiday necessity.”
“Don’t make my genius sound like math.”
“Your genius is expensive, profitable math.”
I picked up the tablet and kissed the screen before he could stop me.
Nico’s mouth twitched. “That’s not best practice.”
“I’m the owner. I invent practice.”
“Clearly.”
Behind him, Taryn guided a group in blinking holiday necklaces toward the patio. Her red visor had tiny antlers clipped to the top, and she wore the bright customer-service smile of a woman one bad seating request away from weaponizing joy.
“Two tables are hunting for a shark mascot,” Taryn said.
Dusty drifted by with a tray of ornament-shaped coasters and a red hat hanging off one sun-bleached curl. “Emotionally, aren’t we all the shark mascot?”
Mari leaned through the pass. “No. Some of us are professionals.”
Shay set four blue-and-white specials on the service mat, each one wearing a little cherry hat pick. “Professionally, I need somebody enormous to stand by the patio rail before the bachelor-party guy in the beard tries to climb the reindeer.”
Nico turned to me.
I pointed toward the patio. “Go be enormous.”
“Yes, boss.”
