She folds her arms under her chest, gaze as potent as stormy skies. “What else would we be here for?” She takes in my uniform, a subtle appraisal.
“Me,” I say simply. “I don’t know about you, but kissing you is the only thing on my mind right now. It’s been quite some time since I’ve tasted those lips.”
She looks away, to her friend. “You don’t get to do that,” she returns. “Not before you grovel to Jack for your hideous behavior. And apologize to…”
“You,” I supply, helpfully, setting my hand on hers. Her nails are painted a light pink. Clover pulls her hand away and tucks her hair behind one ear. She’s wearing the earrings I bought her. “I’m sorry, Clover. If you’re going to make me do this right here in front of everyone. I’m sorry. A million stinky ponds sorry.” I look at Jack and Preston. “I’m really sorry for that,” I say. Turning my eyes back to Clover, I add, “It takes two for a misunderstanding, though.”
Tannie elbows Clover. “I’m sorry for what you saw. Jack was my closest friend in Cape Cod aside from Goldie. I promise you, me kissing him was like me kissing a grandparent.”
Jack scoffs. “That’s so distasteful,” he says, drawing out the word.
Preston laughs, rubbing Jack’s arm. “I don’t think about my grandma when I kiss you.”
Jack smiles with his eyes. “I guess that makes me feel better,” he says, leaning over to plant a kiss square on Preston’s mouth.
Goldie groans and tells them to get a room. Tannie elbows Clover again. “And? What else? Keep going,” Tannie prompts before she drains her glass of wine.
“I forgive you, Mercer,” Clover drawls.
I swallow hard. “That mean I can kiss my girl now?”
Clover shakes her head. “Pour some shots. We need to play opossum or panda first.”
I take a step back, confused. “Seriously? The game we played in high school?”
She nods once. “Maybe not with Fireball this time. Get out the good stuff. We are in our thirties now. Let’s do this the refined way.” The other bartender covers the rest of the bar when he sees me preoccupied. I offer him a grateful nod.
Reaching under the counter, I pull out six shot glasses and line them up, and pour a mid-level whiskey into them carefully. Preston makes a joke that I have a career in bartending if my military career washes up now that the war is done. I make his shot a double.
Clover clears her throat. “Rules. One person says a statement. We all guess true or false and whoever is wrong, takes a shot.” She pulls a shot glass in front of her exposed chest and watches my face as I stare.
Goldie admonishes Tannie for whining about never winning this game and Jack offers an apology to me for that morning even though he didn’t need to. I hate myself a little more for what his face looks like.
“Start it up, darlin’,” I order.
“Mercer loves Clover,” she proclaims, then adds, “Panda.”
Everyone chimes in at the same time, “Panda.”
I grin. “You really are taking it back old school, aren’t you?”
She shrugs. “Wouldn’t want it to get inappropriate in a public venue.”
“Panda,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “My turn.”
“Clover kisses all her friends on the mouth,” I say.
Goldie and Tannie, in unison, “Opossum.”
Preston looks up in thought before he says opossum. Jack looks scared, but he agrees with the group. Clover is last with a deadpan, “Opossum.” No one drinks.
I take a shot. “I was panda,” I proclaim, hissing out the sting on my tongue. “I have one more, though.”
“Go on,” Tannie says, grinning. Jack and Preston are wrapped up in their own conversation at this point and we all know this is Clover’s game of fishing.
“This is the story where the guy gets the girl in the end,” I proclaim, leaning my elbows on the bar. “And I won’t leave you in suspense, I’m going with panda.”
Clover’s eyes go big and round, my reflection shining back at me. Clear as a sun-filled morning and as earnest as a hard day’s work. She leans in sliding the shot glass away with her elbow. “I’m thinking that’s probably panda.”
