Page 13 of Nacho Boyfriend

I test it for myself, inhaling the notes and sipping a drop on my tongue. Wow. She’s good. I would have guessed walnut, but I think she’s right about the pecan.

“You have a nose for this,” I say, surprised at how impressed I am.

She opens her eyes a sliver, squinting up at me. “You really think so?”

“So far.” Unless it’s a fluke.

“This is fun.” She dives in for another whiff of my arm, but I yank that bad boy back real quick.

“I think we’re done for the day.”

“But what about the one that looks like a cup of honey?”

“That’s an extra añejo, which means it’s expensive.” I guzzle it down in one shot and slam the glass on the bar. Juice cleanse be damned.

Her heart-shaped lips part in surprise, but I can’t think about that at all—or the tickle still lingering on the skin of my inner elbow.

“Time to clock out, Olive.”

I head directly to my office, waving off the cooks and their filthy joke of the day. I barge in, feeling all the weight of the financial mess Pancho Two left behind, the pressure from the Posse, and now the jumbled twisting in my chest from one touch on the inside of my elbow.

I need a vacation.

As the door flies open, I’m met with a trembling dog—round, black eyes staring up at me nestled in a face full of fur. Her pointy ears are tucked behind her head. I must have startled her when I stormed in, having forgotten she was here.

I feel bad—until I take one step inside and narrowly miss a puddle. She literally just did her business in the parking lot behind the restaurant. How does that much pee come out of such a tiny dog?

I scoop her up so she doesn’t accidentally walk through the puddle and set her on my desk chair while I clean the mess.

Cochina perra.

“I don’t care about that suitcase full of pink dresses,” I say, playfully scolding. “As long as I have to take care of you, you’re going naked.”