“Hey. No.” I raise my hand to her, “What happens when we lock the Hollow up stays here. You can’t be spilling trade secrets,” I warn her.
“You made that sound kinda cool, so I’m not going to argue, but just know it’s adorable that you do it,” she says, a little softer. The teasing in her voice is neutral as I back away from the bar top again.
“Do you want to help?” I ask her.I shouldn’t ask her.
“Unless you want to kill customers and have to buy new glasses, I should probably stay on this side of the bar,” she says, patting it gently and sinking back onto her stool.
“There’s no one here to poison, Rhea,” I say, and I can see the gears turn over as she considers it.
“It’s probably not a good idea.” She gives her head a shake and turns back to her fries, but it’s pretty clear that she really wants to try.
“Don’t be a chicken,” I say to her.
Her eyes snap to meet mine, “I’m not a chicken.”
“You’re acting like one. What's the worst thing that can happen? You break a glass?” I scoff. “Sunday breaks two a night.”
Rhea’s teeth sink into her bottom lip. I flex my hand at my side to keep from reaching out to stop her from doing it, but she rises from the stool and takes a deep breath. I don’t say a word as she rounds the bar and comes to stand next to me.
“What’s the drink you made me the other night?” She asks after a moment of weird silence.
I run my hand over my mouth and try to think. I know exactly what I made her, but saying it quickly would be an admission of my scattered, lingering, and very inappropriate thoughts of her. It’s also not a drink that suits her; it was just fruity with too much vodka to make her brain foggy enough to forget her bad day and smile… but I know which one will suit her.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, and don’t wait for a response before I’m moving toward the kitchen. Boone is moving around, scrubbing down the steel tables with a rag in a sleeveless Hollow shirt with his headphones on.
“Hey!” I bang my hand on the end of the table, and he jumps out of his skin.
“What?” He slips the headphones off in a clumsy panic, and I realize that I’ve scared him for a different reason. He thinks something’s wrong.
“Shit.” I pause, breathing in. “Sorry. I just need you to turn on the espresso machine for me.”
“You really need to work on your entrances.” Boone finally takes a breath. “I’ve taught you how to use that more than once.” He points to the giant brewer with a sigh. “It’s also two a.m.,” he adds, but moves around the table to the second counter and puts his hand around the back to flip it on.
“I’m just running through the tests of this month's specials,” I say. “And that thing has a mind of its own.”
Boone stops to give me the ‘you’ve been to war, and the espresso machine scares you’look, and I scowl deeper at him. He raises both hands and goes back to making the espresso for me. Before long, the entire kitchen smells like coffee.
“Two shots,” I say to him, and he narrows his eyes on me. “I’m teaching Rhea.”
“Oh, you’reteaching Rhea,"he mocks. “That’s the second time this week that you're entertaining one of Day’s friends after close.”
“She was eating dinner and asked to help,” I say.
“Sure,” Boone smiles, “does she need a drive?” He asks.
“No, you just finish up here and get home." I can see from his expression that he wants to comment again, but instead he sets the cup on the counter in front of me and waits, watching my hands.
“They’re getting worse,” he says. “The tremors, why?”
The anniversary is coming.
“I don’t know,” I hold out my hand, and it’s shaking again.
“Go plan your drinks, but I’m taking you to the doctor—”
I open my mouth to argue that I don’t have the time for that, but Boone glares me into submission and points to the espresso shot. I nod, only noticing then that he’d put it in a taller glass, and even though my hand shakes, I don’t spill anything as I wander back out to Rhea. She’s staring up at all the booze with her arms crossed, but she hasn’t moved an inch.
“Did you just stand here the entire time?” I ask her, coming around and setting the shot down.
