Page 62 of Biggest Player
I could spread her legs, kneel in front of her, and—
The sudden sound of a door opening jolts us back to reality.
We break apart, breathless, and turn to see Wyatt standing in the doorway of the kitchen, frozen in place, eyes wide and her mouth slightly open in shock.
“Mom? What the ...?” Her eyes are everywhere, taking in the scene.
The floor. Her mom and me.
The floor.
The ceiling.
“What on earth is going on here?” Wyatt’s voice is a mix of surprise and amusement, though there’s an undeniable edge of her disapproval there too. “Mother!”
Yikes.Not the preteen disapproval ...
Margot gives me a little shove so she can hop down off the counter, her face turning a deep shade of red. She pulls at her T-shirt so it’s not clinging to her stomach, or her boobs.
Damn shame.
“Wyatt!” Her voice is high pitched in the way that screams GUILTY. “Hey, sweetie! What, um—are you doing home?”
She’s still pulling at her top so it doesn’t stick to her frame.
Wyatt has her eyes locked on my face, the unflinching little shit.
“I forgot my face stuff and my blanket, so Grandma and I decided it would be easier if I slept here tonight.” Her face is stone-cold sober. A veritable mask of judgment. “What were the two of you doing?”
“Kid, I think it’s obvious what we were doing,” I’m tempted to say, though it’s not the right time, and I don’t want to risk getting nudged in the gut.
“I had a little ... problem with the faucet, and um, Dex came over to fix it. You remember Dex, don’t you? From dinner?”
Wyatt’s gaze shifts between us, taking in our soaked clothes and the puddles spread across the kitchen floor. “Yeah, I can see you had a problem with the faucet.” Her hands are on her hips now. “Looks like you had more thanjustan accident with the faucet.”
Her eyebrow arches in that knowing, sarcastic way only a preteen can manage.
Honestly, she’s scaring me.
I clear my throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “I thought I’d be helping her out.”
“Yeah, I sure bet you wanted to help.” Wyatt smirks, crossing her skinny arms and leaning against the doorframe. “This is definitely not awkward at all.”
Margot attempts to smooth her wet hair, failing to look anything other than flustered. “Wyatt, sweetie, it reallywasjust a plumbing disaster. We, uh—I was just helping him clean up.”
“Sure, Mom. Whatever you say.” Wyatt rolls her eyes. “Next time, maybe you guys could try not to flood the kitchen while sucking each other’s faces off.”
Sucking each other’s faces off. That’s a new one.
I file it away for later, stifling a laugh, impressed by Wyatt’s boldness—but also acutely aware of how embarrassing this must be for Margot.
Me? Not so much.
“Your mom was thanking me for flooding the kitchen.”
Margot smacks me in the ribs. “Would you shut up?”
“Ha. Better you than me!” Wyatt’s knowing smirk brings me right back to when we met in the restaurant; she was totally in her element and the one giving me direction, not the other way around. Balls of steel, this one.
