Page 47 of Biggest Player
“Knock it off.” I shoo him away, scoffing, but my heart beats a little faster, betraying me and my good sense. “I wasn’t smelling you.”
Still.
Flirting isn’t a crime, and I could sure use the practice.
“You’re such a liar.” He grins, taking a swig from his new glass of beer. “It’s Blue Steel.” He tells me. “I’m their spokesperson.”
“Why does that not surprise me,” I droll, watching as he pulls his phone out of his back pocket and begins scrolling through the gallery.
“See?” Dex holds it toward me, forcing my eyes to the screen.
Forcing my eyes on the bare-chested photos of him, surrounded by a dark background, dim lighting, glistening skin.
Of course, he’s wearing boxer shorts.
He’s tan.
He’s . . . he’s . . .
Jesus. He’s perfect.
I swallow.
“Nice” is the best I can do, not wanting to gush or blush or make a fuss.
“I felt like a pig they were oiling up.” He laughs, tucking the phone away. “But I have a lifetime supply of cologne. And I bought my childhood best bud a condo with the money.”
A little pit forms in my stomach.
“That was very sweet of you.”
Dex takes another drink of beer, bobbing his head in a nod. “Yeah. Dude has been with me through thick and thin. He’s like the only family I have, besides Landon and a few other guys.”
I almost make anAwwsound. I almost simper.
Almost.
’Cause the truth is, Dex is making my heart beat faster and my palms begin to sweat and my brain feel a bit addled.
Damn him.
Damn him for being a great guy.
A small part of me wishes he was the asshole he was when we first started talking on the app, so I would have a reason to push him away.
“So.” His tongue peeps out of his mouth, running along his upper lip, licking the beer foam. “What’s your story?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean—what’s the deal with Wyatt’s dad? Or is that too personal?”
“He’s around,” I tell Dex. “In the picture, I mean. We got pregnant young, but we didn’t want to get married or stay in a relationship just because I was having a baby, so we broke up when I was around six months.”
Dex’s mouth moves. “Ah. So he pulled a Tom Brady.”
I don’t know what that means but go with it. “Sure.”
“No drama?”
