“Now.”
“But I’m needed on the floor in ten minutes.”
“I’ll cover it. I’ll cover your tips for the evening too, please? I beg of you, Lo, please help me with this.”
I hold out my hands in a placating gesture. “Okay, okay. Why don’t you get me up to speed?”
Arturo’s books were in much worse shape than even I imagined, and after the dinner rush and people started to vacate the restaurant, I move my work from the office to the quieterend of the bar for a change of scenery. I had to hand it to him, that fiery Latino passion wasn’t lost in any aspect of his life. His books were a damn mess, but I can’t really blame him. When English wasn’t your first language, I couldn’t imagine how difficult filling out papers for the IRS would be. Before long, the restaurant closes, and Judah parks their butt on a stool beside mine while they wait for the last tables in their section to finalize their bills.
“Girl, what have you been doing over here all night?”
“Number crunching.”
“Shit, that’s not part of our job description now, is it? ’Cause this bitch only knows how to spend the dollars, not count them.”
I laugh. “No, I think you’re safe. This is just me helping to whip things into shape.”
A grin cracks their gorgeous face and Judah reaches up to secure a dreadlock that’s come loose from their bun. “Baby girl, you planning on tying that hot Latino down? ’Cause that’s a show I don’t want to miss.”
I smack them with my notebook and twist my hair up off the back of my neck, spearing it through with a pencil because it just got warm in here. “It’s not even like that.”
“Why the hell not? If I had the right body parts, I’d have jumped on him already.”
“Yee, gods no!” I protest. “I’m already having a hard time trying to balance the man’s books, he doesn’t need you spending every last dime he makes on shoes and La Mer.”
“Fine, I guess I’ll just fly to Mexico and find me a hot Latino daddy to pay my credit card bills.”
“Good luck with that, bring me back a souvenir.”
“Get your own souvenir, bitch. My bags will be full of Blahniks.”
I chuckle and turn back to my paperwork.
“Come on. Get your shit. I’m taking you for drinks so we can forget all about boys.”
“Raincheck? As nice as that sounds, I think I’m kind of stuck here.” I glance at Art in the kitchen. “I need to go over some things with Mr. Boss Man.”
Judah turns and glances at the guy in question. He’s scrubbing down the kitchen alongside Chef, his suit jacket has long been removed and his hair has come loose from its usual slicked-back styling, it shivers with every move he makes. It’s ridiculous how gorgeous the people in my life truly are. Even Judah has a face any woman or man would die for.
“Mmhmm,” they say, snapping me back to the present and for a half second, I think they’ve just read my mind. “Go over? Or get on top of Mr. Boss Man? ’Cause your eyes are screaming ‘option two’.”
“No.” I give them a stern look. “Don’t even go there.”
“Oh, I already did. You need someone to get under you so you can get over Mr. Right Man Wrong Time.”
I roll my eyes. “That someone is not my boss.”
“What is this about your boss?” Arturo’s thick accent washes over me and I freeze, afraid to look up from the swirls I’m doodling on the blank notepad.
“I was just telling our girl here she needs to get laid to get over her heartbreak,” Judah blurts out.
I could just die.
Arturo’s brows quirk up. “I didn’t know her heart was broken.”
I shake my head. “It’s not. I’m fine. Now can we please discuss the mess your books are in?”
Art takes the book from my hand, scanning it briefly, he closes it and sets it on the bar. “The books can wait, pequeña azul.” He grabs three shot glasses and the bottle of top-shelftequila. The good stuff. The kind he ordinarily never lets his staff drink.