Goldie blinked at her.
Britta lifted her glass.“That’s clubhouse medical protocol.”
“It is not,” Swift called.
Britta turned on her stool and pointed at him.“You don’t know.You’re not the doctor.”
“We don’t have a doctor,” Swift replied.
“That’s why we use the snoring system.”
Tempi slapped the bar, laughing uncontrollably, and Goldie laughed with her.
I watched her.Probably too much, but I couldn’t help it.
When Tempi and Britta had dragged her inside, Goldie had been tense.Not stiff like she was going to run, but careful.Like she didn’t want to take up too much room.Like she wasn’t sure if the good mood was real or if she’d accidentally stepped into a private moment she didn’t belong in.
That had changed after the first drink.
The woman still had shadows under her eyes.She still glanced toward the door every now and then.She still touched the strap of the backpack she’d set at her feet like she needed to make sure it hadn’t vanished.
But she was laughing with her head tilted back a little, cheeks flushed, and shoulders loose.
That did something to me.
Twister glanced my way.
“What?”I grunted.
He didn’t even try to hide his smirk.“Didn’t say anything.”
“You thought something.”
“I think a lot of things.”
“Don’t.”
His smirk widened, but he didn’t say anything more.
Across the room, Hodge lined up a shot at the pool table, one eye squinted and his cue angled like he was about to perform surgery.
Podge stood beside him with a notebook tucked under his arm.
“Are you seriously keeping score in that thing?”Hodge asked.
Podge adjusted his glasses.“Yes.”
“It’s pool.”
“It’s competition.”
“It’s bar entertainment.”
“It’s math with sticks.”
Hodge lifted his head slowly.“You know, every time you talk, I understand why Nugget throws things at you.”
Podge looked offended.“Nugget throws things at everyone.”
