Page 149 of Biggest Player
Wyatt nudges me in the leg. “Just so you know, if you screw this up again, I’m not covering for you.”
“I won’t.”
“Eh.”
Surprised, I look down at her.
“I’m just messing with you,” she teases, grinning like the goofball she is.
“Could you not? I’m a mess here.”
“I see that.”
“What are the two of you up to?” Margot has her hands on her hips, standing at the edge of the picnic area.
“We’re plotting against you.”
“Oh brother, here we go,” Wyatt groans. “You lasted an entire two seconds.”
It’s not like I can bust out the craft supplies and start whipping up a card for her mother, for Christ’s sake, and I’m not sure how the hell a picture is going to win me any points.
Margot’s expression is stern as she glances back and forth between the two of us.
“I should’ve known I couldn’t even pee without the two of you scheming.” Her sharp gaze homes in on me. “Ofcourseyou dragged Wyatt into it. I suppose you want me to be flattered that you’re making the effort?”
“I didn’t drag her into anything,” I protest. “She just—”
Margot doesn’t let me finish. “Let’s cut to the chase. What exactly have you two been scheming?”
She glares at us both.
“Welp! Oh gee, look at the time,” Wyatt announces. “I’m going to grab a soda from the vending machine if that’s okay. I’ll just”—she steps backward, away from us—“give you a second.”
“You are unbelievable.” Margot whirls toward me to huff, throwing her hands in the air. “Wyatt already loves plotting against me, and she loves you, so what chance do I have?”
Wyatt loves me? This is news.
It hadn’t occurred to me that the kid might ... grow feelings. I mean, she’s a kid. They watch TV and play and get messy; I forgot that they love stuff too. And people. Obviously she loves her mom and dad, but me?
Whoa.
Margot’s nose is scrunched up as if I stink like crap. “Great. This is justgreat. What the hell was I thinking bringing her along with me?” she complains. “Why on earth did I think I could date a football player? I should be dating a banker or an accountant or—”
I pull her to me, cutting her off with a kiss, mouth silencing her.
Her lips are warm and soft, and for a moment the world around us fades into the background—unless you count the sound of Wyatt cracking open a soda can in the background, loudly slurping her first few sips.
I chuckle as the tension in Margot’s body melts, the surprise of my kiss giving way to a tentative warmth.
Mmm . . .
I hold her face in my hands, fingers brushing against her smooth cheeks, feeling the slight tremor of her breath.
The kiss is tender—a mixture of apology and affection—as if I’m trying to tell her everything I can’t articulate in words.
I’m an idiot,my kiss says.
I’m foolish.
