Page 63 of Biggest Player
“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Margot tries to lighten the situation with a lie, still yanking at her shirt.
“Seriously, Mom, this kitchen is a mess. I should have stayed with Grandma.Ugh.”
Margot nods. “We’re going to start cleaning up.”
Her daughter’s brows rise. “Need help?”
Another nod. “Sure. If you can bring me all the towels from the bathroom, that would be amazing.”
The kid disappears, butnotbefore shooting me a glance over her shoulder with narrowed eyes.
Shit.
She doesn’t trust me.
She must know I’m not a huge fan of kids.
“She won’t be gone long. I have a feeling she’s going to lurk around the corner somewhere and eavesdrop.”
“Ya think?” Although there aren’t many places to hide in this tiny place, there’s no doubt that Wyatt will feel the need to spy. Probably nothing more exciting than catching your mom making out with the dude who paid you to lie for him.
The kid seems like she’s always up for the next adventure, and while she looked protective just now, she didn’t look pissed.
“I guess I owe you.” I manage to sound abashed.
“Owe me what?”
“Well. First off, I owe you an actual plumber. I’ll call my buddy and have someone here tomorrow—promise. Secondly, I owe you an actual night out.” I feel like the worst, biggest fucking idiot, and an asshole.
Margot gives her head a little shake. “You don’t owe me a plumber—and you don’t owe me a night out.” She laughs, her boobs jiggling in the sexiest way.
She pushes the hair out of her face. It looked so damn pretty when I first arrived, and now she looks like a cute drowned rat.
“Sure I do.”
“You’re going to send someone to fix this andfeedme?”
I shrug. “I mean, maybe we don’t go to eat first. Maybe we do an activity, like golf.”
“Whoa.” She walks to a small closet in the kitchen and removes a mop. “Slow your roll.”
She hands it to me, and as we start sopping up the water, Wyatt returns with the towels, taking charge of her mother and me with surprising efficiency, directing us on what to do next as if she were a tiny drill sergeant. Eventually the awkwardness of the moment starts to fade, replaced by a sense of camaraderie.
The three of us working together.
A team.
Above Wyatt’s head, Margot and I share a few amused glances, silently acknowledging the absurdity of the entire situation.
“So wait.” I stop mopping, leaning against the mop handle. “You don’t want to golf with me?”
How am I supposed to show her how good I am at everything if she doesn’t want to hang out with me? Golf, pickleball, rugby—you name it, I can play it. And playing with her would surely be pretty damn fun.
“You know, for a guy who doesn’t want todateme, it sure does seem like you’re trying to date me.”
“I thought we were friends,” I point out. “Friends hang out.”
“Do friends make out too?”
