"I know," she replied with a hum, disappearing inside again and coming back with two glasses: not vodka, surprisingly enough. Andy would drink pretty much anything, but vodka had a clean finish, it didn't leave a taste on her tongue to be washed away later.

Bourbon and the peaches Nicky had left in the fridge would do well enough on a hot day, and Andy only twisted her hand holding Booker's glass to make the ice cubes clink. "Here. Your promised drink," she teased, though she'd make him come get it from her. She laid down on the towel she'd brought out beside the pool, closing her eyes to the bright sunlight.

And maybe sneaking glances at Booker once in a while. "You're going to be uneven if you stay in the water like that, though."