Page 38 of Biggest Player (Not Yours #2)

Dex

I move quick when Margot gets up to use the bathroom, motioning for Wyatt to get her rear over here. I have planning and plotting to do, just like Landon told me.

Except, I’m not sure what that plan to win her back is.

I’m hoping Wyatt will tell me.

“Dude, I need your help,” I hiss, not wanting her mom to hear me, knowing I’d be in deep shit if she knew I was dragging her daughter into my drama. I have no idea how much this kid knows about our breakup or fight.

“No kidding,” she says once she’s done stomping over. “You seriously pissed her off.”

Dang, she looks like her mom when she’s irritated.

Ha!

“Hey. Are you allowed to talk like that?” She’s only ten years old. Should she be allowed to use words like pissed ?

“We don’t have time for semantics,” she informs me, glancing over her shoulder at the bathrooms where her mom disappeared. “You’re a mess.”

I am?

I rub my temples, feeling the tension in my shoulders mounting. “I know, I know. But I didn’t expect things to blow up like this. Can you at least tell me what she’s thinking?”

She crosses her arms, giving me a scrutinizing look that makes me feel about two inches tall.

“How the heck would I know what she’s thinking? She doesn’t talk about you, but there are signs.” Her little voice takes on an ominous tone as she dramatically tosses her ponytail.

Trying not to take offense at this tiny, formidable person, I see the wheels turning in her brain.

“You know how she’s been really stressed about work?” She has? I did not know that. “Maybe you could help her with something she doesn’t like doing. Like, if she has a bunch of papers to grade or something, offer to help out. I do it all the time.”

“I am not going to help Margot grade papers, good God, that would be a disaster.”

Wyatt scrunches her face in concentration; then her expression brightens again as she comes up with another idea.

“Oh! You could make a card. A real one with, like, drawings and stuff. You don’t have to be fancy, just make it look like you put some effort into it. And use stickers. I always do, and she loves them.”

I chuckle, appreciating the simplicity of her suggestions. “A card? That’s actually not a bad idea.”

I rub my chin and Wyatt rubs hers.

“Have you said you’re sorry yet?”

“Yeah, a bunch of times, but this is more about trust, and I don’t know how to get her to trust me when I fuc—when I screwed up so bad.”

Margot’s daughter tilts her head and looks up at me. “What’d you do exactly?”

Let’s see, how do I put this in a way this kid can understand?

“Um. A guy told me that dating your mom would be a good idea, instead of me just trusting my own gut and making the decision by myself.”

Wyatt squints up at me. “How old are you?”

“Uh—twenty-five.”

“Dude, why are you letting other grown-ups tell you what to do? Adults are supposed to adult.”

How is she so wise? And why is she calling me dude ?

“Because I’m a dumbass.”

Her nod is sage. “Yeah, I can see that.” She pats me on the arm to comfort me.

Once again, she’s insulted me, but I deserve it. No one wants a child agreeing with them when one calls oneself a dumbass, but here we are. This is my life now, I guess.

“You’re cool, do you know that?” I tell her. I’ve never met a kid like this, not that I’ve met many kids—not including the children that have come to meet and greets with their parents.

Another nod. “I get that all the time.”

I laugh, surprised at her candor. What a little shit.

A cool little shit, but a shit nonetheless.

“So to recap,” I begin. “You think the only way to get back into your mom’s good graces is to make her a card and do something nice for her, like grade papers?”

“It’s a start.”

“What’s something I can do now? Right now?”

We both turn our heads to see Margot exiting the bathrooms. She’s brushing her hair back and wiping her hands on the fabric of her jean shorts.

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. “Of course you 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 just great . 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.

I’m not the guy who’s going to let you down ...

My mouth lingers on hers, savoring the connection. The way her breath mingles with mine. The quiet reassurance that speaks louder than our argument.

Margot’s initial rigidity slowly dissolves, her hands tentatively moving their way up my chest. Up, up her palms go, settling on my collarbone, and her kiss softens, becoming more responsive. It’s as if she’s finally letting herself be swept away by me; it’s as if she’s letting her guard down.

I pull back just enough to look into her eyes, seeing her surprise and something else. The beginning of forgiveness? Please say that’s what this is ...

I would miss her if she told me to fuck off and never contact her again, I seriously would.

“Look,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper, hands on her shoulders. “I know this thing with my agent was fucked up. I’m not perfect, but I don’t pretend to be.”

She cocks her head and purses her lips, so I rush to say more.

“I can apologize until I’m blue in the face, and like you said, words don’t mean shit if I can’t show you I mean them. So. I’m just gonna have to ask you to trust me—no more fuckups.” I search my word bank for a phrase I’ve heard Landon throw around. “Total transparency from now on.”

My shoulders sag with relief when she slowly nods. “Then I should tell you that my parents have been actively campaigning to meet you.” Margot nibbles on her bottom lip. “My dad is a good judge of character—so maybe I should let him decide if we continue dating.”

“Does your dad like football?”

She nods again, snorting. “You think you’d get brownie points because you play football for a living? Puh-lease. I’m his baby girl. If he catches one whiff of shit, you’re toast. And if I told him everything that’s happened, oh my God. I’d be the least of your worries.”

I cock my head. “You want me to meet your folks, hey?” That’s a big step, but we’ve already jumped in headfirst. The whole world knows we’re dating.

“Yes, I think we need to have dinner with them. They’ve obviously seen the news, they’ve seen the pictures. They’re the only people who have been there for me since Wyatt was born, and it doesn’t seem fair to keep this from them.”

“Okay, let’s do it.” I can do dinner with them. I ain’t got nothing to hide anyway, so how hard can it be? I rub her shoulders, fingers pressing into the tension located there. She relaxes when I concede to meeting her parents, melting into me. “When does Colton have Wyatt next?”

“The plan is for me to drop her off on my way home tonight—his nephew is having a birthday party, and they live in Tucson, so he wants to head out early.”

Ah. Nice.

I exhale, about to take a giant leap. “Do you want to do a sleepover at my place tonight? We can put on jammies and do each other’s hair. Get to know each other better. I can rub your feet.”

Feet.

Back, tits.

Whatever.

Margot’s eyes widen slightly, but a warm, amused smile plays at her lips. She tilts her head, considering my offer. “A sleepover at your place? That’s quite a shift from our earlier conversation.”

I try to maintain my casual demeanor despite my nerves. She makes me so fucking nervous sometimes.

“Yeah, I know it’s a bit of a curveball, but I think it could be good for us. Just a chance to unwind and be ourselves without any pressure. Maybe take a bath.”

“A bath?” She raises an eyebrow, clearly still cautiously deciding if she wants to join me. “And this is your grand plan to prove you’re serious about things?”

“I mean, it’s not the best but it’s a start. I can feed you, too—there are a few meals in the fridge.” Not meals that I made, but meals just the same. Ha!

I kiss her on the forehead. “So what do you say? Drop Wyatt at her dad’s and then head over so I can spoil you?”