“In that case, you got a minute?” he asked Naomi.
“You can have her for ten minutes,” Max said, pushing Naomi at my brother.
She laughed and held up a hand. “Actually, I have tables I need to get to. Do you need something, Nash?”
He glanced my way. “D.C. cops found your car today,” he said.
Her face lit up. “That’s great news.”
Nash winced and shook his head. “Sorry, honey. It’s not. They found it at a chop shop in pieces.”
Naomi’s shoulders slumped. “What about Tina?”
“No sign of her.”
She looked even more dejected, and I was just about to order her to quit worrying when Nash reached out and tipped her chin up. “Don’t let this get you down, honey. You’re in Knockemout. We take care of our own.”
Once my handsy fucking brother and Wylie Ogden left, I locked myself in my office and focused on paperwork rather than watching Daisy bravely smile her way into the hearts of Knockemout.
Business was good. And I knew how important staff was to that bottom line. But Jesus. Working with Naomi day in and day out? How long would it take before she’d spout off something smart, and I’d pin her to a wall and kiss her just to shut her up?
I kept an eye on the security monitor while I worked my way through the list of stuff Fi needed me to do.
Payroll submitted. Liquor order finalized. Emails returned. And I’d finally gotten around to working on the ads. It was midnight, closing time, and I was beyond ready to call it a night.
“Come on, Waylon,” I called.
The dog bounded out of his bed.
We found the bar empty of patrons.
“Decent night tonight,” Silver called from the register where she was scanning the day’s report.
“How decent?” I asked, doing my best to ignore Naomi and Max as they rolled utensils into napkins and laughed about something. Waylon charged over to them to demand affection.
“Good enough for shots,” Silver said.
“Did someone say shots?” Max called.
I had a deal with the staff. Every time we beat the previous week’s sales the entire shift earned shots.
She slid the report across the bar to me, and I flipped to the bottom line. Damn. It had been a good night.
“Maybe new girl’s our lucky charm,” she said.
“Nothing about her is lucky,” I insisted.
“You still owe us.”
I sighed. “Fine. Line ’em up. Teremana.” I glanced over my shoulder. “Let’s go, ladies.”
Naomi cocked her head, but Max jumped out of her seat. “I knew it was a good night. Fat tips too. Come on,” she said, pulling Naomi to her feet.
I didn’t miss the wince as Naomi stood. She obviously wasn’t used to being on her feet for hours at a time. But I respected her for stubbornly trying to hide her discomfort on the way to the bar. Waylon followed on her heels like a lovesick idiot.
“Boss called tequila,” Silver said, producing the bottle.
Max whistled and drummed the bar.
“Tequila?” Naomi repeated on a yawn.
“Tradition,” Silver explained. “Gotta celebrate the wins.”
“One more,” I said before Silver started to pour.
Her eyebrows winged up as she produced another glass. “Bossman is in. This is a first.”
Max looked surprised too.
“Wait. Don’t we need salt or lemons or hot sauce or something?” Naomi asked.
Silver shook her head. “That’s for shitty tequila.”
Shots poured, we held our glasses aloft.
“You gotta make the toast,” Max said to me when it became clear no one else was going to do it.
“Fuck. Fine. To a good night,” I said.
“Lame,” Silver said.
I rolled my eyes. “Shut up and drink.”
“Cheers.” We touched glass to glass and then to the wood of the bar. Naomi mimicked us, and I watched her as she knocked back her shot.
I expected her to start gasping and wheezing like a sorority sister during pledge week. But those hazel eyes went wide as she looked at her empty glass. “So apparently I’ve never had good tequila before.”
“Welcome to Honky Tonk,” Max said.
“Thanks. And now that my first shift is officially complete,” Naomi put her glass and apron on the bar and turned to me. “I quit.”
She headed for the door.
“Nooooo!” Silver and Max called after her.
“You better do something,” Silver said, pinning me with a glare. “She’s good.”