“No.”
“Not even wedding reception dancing?”
Goldie grimaced.“Especially not wedding reception dancing.”
Britta leaned closer.“What about kitchen dancing?”
“That’s different.”
Tempi slapped the bar.“Aha!”
Goldie frowned.“What?”
“That counts.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“It absolutely does.”
“I’m alone when I do that.”
Britta grinned.“Even better.That means you dance for yourself.”
Goldie opened her mouth and then closed it.Then she pointed at Britta.“That was weirdly profound for someone drinking whatever Tempi made.”
Britta looked at her glass.“This might be wisdom juice.”
“It’s vodka cranberry,” Tempi said.
“With wisdom.”
Twister rubbed a hand down his face.
Swift muttered, “Jesus Christ.”
I stayed where I was, watching Goldie shake her head and laugh into her glass.
Then Britta suddenly sat straight up.“Oh my God.”
Swift immediately pushed off the wall.“What?”
Britta held up a hand.“No emergency.”
Swift didn’t relax.“What is it?”
She ignored him and turned to Tempi, eyes bright.“Ask me what type of bike Swift rides.”
Tempi stared at her.
Goldie stared at her.
I closed my eyes because whatever was about to happen, I already knew Swift wasn’t going to like it.
Tempi slowly set down the bottle in her hand.“I will lay an egg if you know what type of bike Swift rides.”
Britta shook her head fast.“Wait, wait.I mean, just ask me what Swift rides.”
Goldie’s brow wrinkled.
