Page 108 of Biggest Player
I stress the wordprivately, and we all grin when the server brings over our ice cream. He sets the bowls in the center of the table and stands at the foot of it, staring down at Dex.
“You’re Dex Lansing.”
Dex’s grin is wide and friendly. “Sure am.”
He looks humble, which surprises me. I kind of expected that the first time I’d see someone approaching him in public—the signing did not count, IMO—he would say something cocky like “The one and only!” But he doesn’t. He seems modest and chill and at ease.
Which is great, because when the teenager opens his mouth, all that comes out is an awkward “Um.”
He is speechless—a total fan.
“What’s your name?” he asks the teen, making him stammer even more.
“Dude.”
“Your parents named you Dude?” Wyatt pulls a face. “That is so weird.”
“Wyatt.” My tone is a warning.
“Gavin,” the teen finally says, eking out an “I’m Gavin.”
Dex holds out his palm to give the kid’s hand a shake. “Good to meet you, my man.”
Eventually the server goes back to the serving counter, and we’re able to dig into our treats, Wyatt waving her spoon around. “Anyway, all I’m saying is, I think the two of you have great chemistry—and this date was fun.”
“When did you say that?” Because she did in fact say nothing of the sort.
Dex tilts his head, amused, stealing the cherry from the top of our sundae and popping it in his mouth. “How old are you again?”
“Ten. I thought you knew that.”
“Well, you sound forty.”
My daughter giggles,lovingthe compliment.
“I feel forty,” Wyatt announces, spoon buried in her ice cream.
“Being a grown-up can be pretty dull sometimes. Enjoy your youth while it lasts.” I pause, thinking about my stance on rock climbing. “Tonight was actually a lot of fun.”
Dex takes a bite of our sundae and nods thoughtfully. He swallows. “Except those harnesses. I could have done without those pinching my nads.”
“Facts.” My daughter nods sagely, as if it were the kind of statement she’s used to.
Trying my best not to correct him—he’s a grown man, I do not need to scold him for using the wordnadsin front of my kid—I create the perfect bite: ice cream, chocolate, whipped cream, nuts.
Taste it and moan. “Yum. So good.”
As we finish our treats, the sun sets outside, casting a warm glow through the parlor’s windows. Wyatt’s energy starts to wane, and she leans against me, letting out a big yawn.
“Tired, kiddo?” I ask softly.
She nods. “Yeah, kind of. But I had tons of fun.”
I smile, then press a kiss to the top of her head. “I did too.”
Dex stands, stretching, and gathers up our empty containers. “We should get you home, Wyatt. You’ve got school tomorrow.”
He sounds so responsible.
