“When I pay.”
He smiled again, slower this time. “When you pay.”
“Try not to get comfortable.”
Nico settled back on the stool, shoulders loose, one ankle hooked around the rung. “You’re making that difficult.”
I grabbed the shaker, poured a corrected limoncello margarita over ice, and shoved it across the bar before the heat in my neck climbed any higher. “Try that.”
He picked it up. “Am I paying for this one?”
“You’re paying for everything.”
He drank, watched me over the rim, and gave one slow nod. “This one’s better.”
“Careful. That was almost praise.”
“It was quality control.”
“It was flirting with manners.”
Nico flashed teeth. “Nella, if this were flirting, I wouldn’t be drinking citrus from a plastic sample cup.”
My neck went hot so fast I turned toward the blender and pretended it needed me for moral support.
Shay slid past with a tray of drinks. “I’m not getting involved, but table six has moved on to asking whether gluten-free mozzarella would be more authentic.”
“Tell her authenticity costs extra,” I said.
Nico laughed again, quieter this time.
I glanced over my shoulder. “You’re still here.”
“I’m eating.”
“You’re lingering.”
“I’m observing.”
“You’re blocking my barstool.”
Nico rested one elbow on the counter, gold catching the neon shark light behind me. “Then I picked the right one.”
Outside, sunset turned the boardwalk lights pink while the debt notice stayed facedown by the limes. The machine coughed. The rush thickened. Beyond the patio, palm fronds flickered against the bulbs, and the ocean flashed silver between tourists moving along the rail.
I tied my apron tighter, picked up the garnish tray, and got back to work.
I had five days, one loan shark on my best barstool, and a rush line spilling toward the boardwalk.
I told myself I wouldn’t look back.
I made it through three drink tickets before I did exactly that.
Chapter Two
By eight twenty-two, the ticket printer had spit out a white curl of orders that hung off the service well and trembled every time the blender kicked on.
Nella tore the strip free, slapped it onto a spike, and pointed a bar spoon at a tourist trying to wave a twenty over the heads of three people who’d been waiting longer.
