A challenge gleamed in her eyes. “Make me.”

I sucked in a slow breath, tightening my grip on the counter. “Don’t start.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, you did. You can’t just show up and demand a job. There’s an application process. An interview. It’s not like they’re gonna hand you a uniform just because you want one.”

She grinned, reaching into her bag. And then, to my absolute horror, she pulled out a neatly folded staff uniform.

“No. No, no, no,” I muttered, rubbing my temples.

Beverly smiled, unfolding the uniform and holding it up like a victory flag. “Surprise,” she chirped.

She looked way too pleased with herself, arms crossed over her chest, tapping one foot like she was waiting for me to roll out a red carpet. I watched her slide the uniform over her head, the red fabric clinging to her frame as she adjusted it with a proud grin.

“Well?” she said, spinning once. “How do I look?”

“Like a problem.”

She smirked. “You love solving problems.”

For a second, I thought I was hallucinating. Some kind of overworked, overtired mirage caused by too many hours in this damn place. Maybe I inhaled too much of the industrial popcorn butter. But then she stepped behind the counter, grabbed a cup, and started filling it with soda like she’d been here for years.

Riley let out a quiet whistle beside me. “Damn, she’s good.”

Beverly’s eyes flicked to her, as if noticing her for the first time. She straightened, tilting her head slightly, assessing Riley like she was trying to decide whether or not she was a problem.

I recognized it instantly—that tiny shift in her expression, the almost imperceptible way her shoulders tensed. She was jealous.

Riley must’ve picked up on it too because she arched a brow, looking way too amused.

I sighed and gestured toward her. “Beverly, meet Riley. Riley, this is Beverly.”

Riley smirked, clearly entertained. “Oh, this is Beverly?”

Beverly blinked at me. “You talk about me?”

Riley’s smirk widened. “You’re his sister, right?”

Beverly’s expression darkened just enough for me to notice. “Well, not really,” she said flatly. “But that’s what everyone calls me, right, Blake?”

Jesus Christ. I was going to lose my mind.

“Beverly,” I sighed. “You do not work here.”

“I do! And wow, way to be supportive.”

I fought the temptation to drop my head onto the counter.

“So, you guys work together?” Beverly asked, her voice light.

I exhaled slowly. Here we go.

Riley nodded. “Sure do. Blake and I are a great team.”

I gave her a look that said drop it.

I was going to have a stroke.

An actual, medical event.

And Beverly?

Beverly somehow convinced an old lady to tip her a dollar.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Beverly.”

“Blake,” she echoed sweetly, her voice all soft and innocent.

I clenched my jaw.