“Just like that?”
Fifi nodded, flinging her arm towards a large table of customers. I assumed they’d just ordered coffee. My skin prickled. They looked a little on the loud side. Without caffeine, they might get restless—maybe even riot.
I looked around. “Where’s the rest of your staff?”
She rolled her beautifully made-up eyes. “My waitress is missing in action, and the chef would blow a gasket if I asked him to go anywhere near the coffee machine.”
She gave an enormous sigh, her red-painted lips trembling. “I’m hopeless at the frothing. And with Maxime either on the water or chasing off our customers, it feels like I’m the only one holding the place together.”
I frowned. Her comment was harsh and a little unexpected. We were hardly buddies, but maybe she needed someone to confide in.
“Where is he?”
“Maxi?”
A shiver ran through my body. The name.Maxi. It hinted at familiarity. Warmth. Intimacy, even. I side-eyed the club’s beautiful manager. Were the two of them more than just boss and employee? More than just friends? Why did that idea make my belly roll?
“He said something about a call with his accountant.”
“Oh, so he’s not off polishing his nets out on his boat?”
Fifi laughed, the rosy apples of her cheeks lifting. “I suppose I should be grateful. Without him, we’d serve tinned food. But I worry. Our last barista was hopeless, and if Gustav’s walked too, our coffee reviews won’t improve. We’re already struggling.”
I frowned, running my eyes over the club. There was a table of eight, and then a couple of other diners. Even if I was supposed to be wrangling Maxime’s reluctant daughter, I had time to whip up a few cappuccinos.
“Look, I can make coffee. But please, can we not tell Maxime?”
Fifi’s brow creased.
“He’s been asking me to do more with Sophie. And I would, but talking to her is like drawing blood from a stone. I keep trying, but I’m not a miracle worker.”
She huffed. “Kids. If that’s what you’re worried about, just play the good nanny if he comes back. If he’s got a problem with it, send him to me.”
I grinned. Even if a potential dalliance between her and Maxime muddied my boss-fantasy waters, Fifi was a legend.
“Okay, deal. You do what you do best, and I’ll give the masses what they want.”
I moved around the bar and stepped behind the counter. Pulling up behind the coffee machine, I gave Fifi a jaunty salute.
She looked me up and down slowly.
“What?”
She smirked. “I know we’re at the beach, but you should wear some clothes.”
I looked down. I only had on my trusty pink bikini. My only accessory was the towel slung over my shoulder. I retrieved it, waving it in her direction. “This is all I’ve got.”
She stared at me for the longest beat before disappearing into the kitchen. She returned moments later, handing me an apron. “I’m not sure the look is health and safety compliant, but you won’t have time to get anything else. It’s this, or the spare pair of chef whites.”
I chewed on my lip, picturing the portly chef. I liked the idea of wearing a puffy white hat—I looked good in hats—but long sleeves might prove a hindrance.
“No, the apron will be fine. You never know, making coffee semi-naked might drum up business. It works in other parts of the world.”
Fifi huffed with a tight smile. “The closest we get to semi-naked in the club is Maxime, before he goes fishing in the morning.”
An image of my boss in his clingy shorts whipped through my brain and I held onto the bar top for dear life. I didn’t know how he’d look in an apron, but I liked the look of himthe rest of the time. Even when he was searing my skin with a glower.
I shook the thought from my head.
