Chapter 12
Kiss My Blarney Stone
Female voices stopped Noahin his tracks. He cocked an ear, straining to make out to whom those voices belonged and what they were saying.
He recognized the first as Dixie’s, and she was using her most soothing tone, the same one she’d used to tell him a chunk of his staff couldn’t make it in tonight.
“Now I heard you asking Charlie how you could repay his brother, and this is the best way.”
A different female voice, opposite from Dixie’s in its pitch and level of hysteria, rose. “Not dressed like … like …this! Besides, I haven’t done it in forever. Does Noah know? What if I screw up?”
“Don’t you worry, hon. You’ll do just fine. It’ll come right back to you, same as riding a bike.”
“Dixie, I can’t wear this!”
“Here. Let me fix your face.” Some rustling sounded. “Even if you screw up, no one’s going to care as long as you’re wearing this adorable outfit. All’s you have to do is smile and shake your tush, and you’ll haveevery man eating out of your hand tonight. And don’t get your women’s lib feathers ruffled—or is it ‘feminist’ now? Well, PC don’t matter here because we’re talking real world, and in that real world the paying customers will be men. They tip better when you flaunt what the good Lord endowed you with. This is a truism I’ve experienced my entire adult life.”
“But this top doesn’t fit!” the voice wailed.
“Fits like it’s supposed to.”
The next noise sounded like Dewey growling, “Hubba, hubba.”
“Just a little more gloss,” Dixie continued, “then you go show Charlie. If his eyes don’t pop out of his head, then I’m a monkey’s aunt.”
“How about if she shows Noah instead?” Noah ducked out of his hiding place and nearly tripped over his shoes.
What. The. Actual …?
His mouth dropped open. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it sure as hell wasn’t Hailey Bailey dressed as a saucy tavern maid. Said wench was currently tugging at an off-the-shoulder ruffly white blouse that couldn’t hide her cleavage if it tried—mostly because said cleavage was accentuated by a skin-tight, bright green lace-up bodice that shoved her boobs above the top’s neckline. She wore two long, blond pigtails and a lot of makeup that highlighted her high cheekbones and pouty lips. His eyes involuntarily swept down the rest of her, taking in a flouncy skirt that matched the bodice and barely covered her ass, thigh-high white stockings tied with tiny green bows, and black high heels.
Body parts south of his belt began shifting without his permission. “What’s going on?” His voice had climbed several octaves.
Hailey gave him a hesitant smile at the same moment her cheeks ripened with an alluring shade of pink. “You’re short on help, and I used to wait tables, so Dixie and I thought …”
Dixie mocked a Vanna White presentation. “What do you think of our little Fräulein?”
“She’s German!” he sputtered. When surprised eyes landed on him, he ran on like an idiot. “German is Oktoberfest, and this isn’t Oktoberfest. It’s Saint Patrick’s Day. She needs to be Irish—a leprechaun, a Blarney Stone …”Not someone whose micro skirt I want to lift up as I bend her over a table.
Dixie pursed her lips. “A Blarney Stone?”
“All the customers’ll see is a hoochie mama dressed in green,” Dewey crowed unhelpfully. “Perfect for Saint Patty’s Day.” Noah didn’t like the way the old roadie’s eyes were coasting up and down the hoochie mama’s body.
Charlie chose that moment to round the corner. “Holy shit!” He clapped a hand over his mouth, no doubt to keep it from falling open like Noah’s had.
Meanwhile, Hailey squirmed and pulled at the outfit, which only made matters worse—orbetter, depending on one’s point of view. Noah’s baser side was certainly a huge fan of the visual.
He cleared his throat and put on his best I-am-the-boss voice. “Can someone please give me the whole story?”
Dixie raised her chin a few stubborn inches. “When Hailey Bailey here heard we were shorthanded, she offered her services.”
Noah bit back the urge to ask what kind of services. “That doesn’t explain the … the getup.”
“Her baggy jeans and dowdy top—” Dixie slid Hailey a sheepish look. “Sorry, hon. Let me rephrase. Herattiredidn’t exactly fit the occasion, so I dug up this outfit in our lost and found. And look! It fits her perfectly.” She pursed her lips. “That ol’ watch needs to go, though.”
Noah flicked a finger in Hailey’s general direction. “We don’t dress our waitstaff in … in outfits likethatone.” No, this outfit was best suited for the Brothel, one of the other bars in town. Hell, eventheydidn’t dress their waitstaff in skimpy costumes.
“It’s too small,” Hailey protested. “And I’m not taking off my watch.”
