Stop already.” Bridge jerked at the sound of Marty’s voice and turned to see three sets of eyes on him. Marty looking annoyed, Tripp amused, and Cory somewhere between entertained and lost. “What?” “The knee thing.” Marty motioned with a flip of his hand. “It’s getting old.” “Oh.” Bridge stopped bouncing his knee and took a long draught of his beer. “Sorry.” He hadn’t realized he’d been doing it, but shit, how long were those guys going to keep playing poker? A man’s patience could only stretch so far. He’d opted out of playing because he didn’t have the money he knew he’d lose given all his attention would be on Eric rather than the game. That and Cory had come by again to talk shop. Now Bridge just wanted everyone to leave so he could get Eric alone. Right fucking now. Before he burst his damn seams. Tripp clapped him on the shoulder.
