I tied the scarf at the base of her ponytail. “There.”
She turned slowly, close enough that her apron brushed my shirt. “You’re very quiet.”
“I’m practicing.”
“Practicing what?”
“Not putting my mouth on you in the service hall.”
Her eyes darkened. “That’s a good skill for a man carrying flyers.”
“I’m full of useful skills.”
“I know. That’s becoming inconvenient.”
I rested one hand on the shelf beside her, not touching her, not trapping her. “Say the word, and I’ll step back.”
“You’re not trapping me.”
“No.”
“You’re not taking over.”
“No.”
“You’re looking at me like you remember exactly what my bedroom sounds like.”
I locked my jaw.
Nella’s mouth curved, but her eyes stayed serious. “I remember too. That doesn’t mean I trust you with everything.”
“I know.”
“This isn’t the time for you to kiss me.”
“I know that too.”
“Good.” She picked up the flyers and pushed them against my chest. “Then take these to the patio before I make a bad management decision.”
I took them. “After close?”
“After close, I may review your performance.”
“That sounds formal.”
“It won’t be.”
She walked away before I could answer.
I stood in the hall for three seconds, breathing like a man who’d been given orders and a promise in the same sentence.
Then Mari shouted from the kitchen, “If those flyers don’t reach the patio, I’m using them as plates.”
I went back to work.
By six, the promo had turned the open front into a funnel. People stopped at the printed specials, leaned over the host stand, and got pulled in by Taryn before they could drift away. Music ran under the noise, beachy and loud enough to lift the room without making the staff yell. The neon shark glowed over the back mirror. String lights warmed the patio. Outside, the sunset turned the boardwalk pink while palms shifted against a hot, bright sky.
Bite Me had turned into summer ordering another round.
