His friends laughed. He didn’t.
The shark under my skin went very quiet.
I set my cup down.
Nella’s eyes flicked to me for half a second, sharp enough to pin me to the stool.
I stayed where I was because she’d ordered it without a word.
She planted one hand on the bar and leaned toward the man with the kind of smile that made smarter people reconsider their life choices.
“You ordered six minutes ago,” she said. “Your drinks are behind three tables and one blender that’s doing its best. You can wait, you can switch to bottled beer, or you can take your refund and free up my patio for people who understand clocks.”
The man opened his mouth.
Nella lifted one brow.
He shut it.
“Bottled beer’s fine,” he muttered.
“Great choice,” she said, and pointed at Shay. “Two domestics for patio seven. They’ve discovered patience.”
Shay’s mouth twitched. “Beautiful journey.”
Nella turned back to me as if she hadn’t just talked down a drunk with a bar spoon and a customer-service smile.
I picked up one of the stuffed cherry pepper bites. “Are you always this diplomatic?”
“You still have all your teeth, don’t you?”
I bit into the pepper. Heat, vinegar, breading, sausage, and cheese hit first, followed by enough spice to make a tourist confess secrets.
I chewed slower than I needed to.
Nella watched me over the shaker. “Well?”
“It’s good.”
Her eyes narrowed. They were dark and bright under the string lights, and she looked offended by the answer being too simple.
“That’s it?”
“It’s hot, sharp, salty, and bad for my judgment.”
“Careful, that was almost useful.”
“The filling’s too heavy for the size.”
“Look at that,” she said. “The jewelry comes with a useful comment.”
“Not a comment. A correction.”
“You correct my cherry peppers, and I’ll correct your face.”
I smiled before I could decide not to. “Is that a service you charge for?”
“At your balance? Absolutely.”
