Page 7 of Biggest Player (Not Yours #2)

Margot

What.

The.

Actual. Hell.

Is going on.

Am I losing my hearing or did his date just say, I can see now that this wasn’t worth the trouble I’m going to be in with my parole officer.

Parole officer?

“What the hell is going on here?” I glare at the idiot from the dating app. He is a man I literally just deleted. “What the hell are you, some kind of creep?”

Dex from the dating app holds his hands up as if in surrender, and I can’t help but stare at them. They’re big hands.

Huge.

“This isn’t what it looks like.”

I snort. “Oh really? What do I think this looks like? Please, be my guest and tell me.”

Because what it looks like is he has my daughter in some sort of situation I can’t wrap my brain around. Whatever this is isn’t just a friendly conversation—they’re up to something. It’s confusing, and I know for a fact she referred to him as Dad when I walked up.

My ears were not playing tricks on me.

This is sus.

Not only that, I know my daughter well enough to know she’s prone to mischief—this has Wyatt shenanigans written all over it.

“It’s fine, Mom—he paid me,” my angel-baby child informs me proudly, pulling a wad of cash from her pocket and thrusting it in my direction like a prize trophy. “It’s LEGO cash.”

LEGO cash?

“What? Where did you get that?” I feel my eyes bugging. “I left Grandma and Grandpa sitting at the table because you’ve been gone so long—and I find you here, taking money from perfect strangers? Wyatt Hazel!”

“I just told you—he gave it to me. I was playing a role.”

Dex stands from the table, straightening to his full height, and his napkin falls to the floor from his lap. Somewhat impressed, I watch as he bends to retrieve it.

At least he knows table etiquette.

“You know, it truly is a crime that her middle name is Hazel. The two names don’t go together.” He winks stupidly down at my daughter as if they are in on some inside joke.

She rolls her eyes. “Tell me about it.”

“Excuse me!” I stammer. “Do I need to call the police? Someone better explain what’s going on!”

“I needed her help for five minutes.” His hands go up in mock surrender, finally appearing chagrined. “That’s all. It worked out fine.” He pauses, grinning. “Ma’am.”

I ignore his jab.

He’s being a dick.

“Do you think I’m going to fall for your stupid smile, asshole? Think again.” My chin notches up. “And do a better job explaining—this whole thing is weird.”

I still have my hand on Wyatt’s and give her a nudge with my hip. “Wyatt, give the man back his money.”

“I’d rather not.” Wyatt shakes her head back and forth slowly. “I held up my end of the bargain. We had a deal.”

If looks could kill, my child would be on the ground withering , but she doesn’t budge, grinning up at her new buddy, and I still have no clue what they’re talking about.

I recognize the look in my daughter’s eyes. It says, “You are not going to win this battle.”

“Wyatt, sweetie, can you go back by Grandma and Grandpa?”

My darling child has the audacity to disagree. “Nah. I’d rather stay here and listen to you argue—Grandma and Grandpa are boring.”

That’s certainly true. They can be pretty boring.

Still.

“This is an adult matter.” I give her another look, needing her to listen for once in her life. “And don’t think we won’t be discussing this later. Tell Grandma I’ll be right there, that I had to use the ladies’ room.”

Begrudgingly, my kid slithers off, but not without watching us over her shoulder the entire way. I’m shocked she doesn’t crash into any other tables, her gaze directed solely on me.

Nosy little shit.

I raise my brows at her before looking at Dex.

“So?”

He plops back down in his chair. “So the story is—I had to get rid of my date and your daughter offered to help.”

Oh I bet she did. “How did the two of you meet?”

“I was coming out of the men’s room, and she was coming out of the women’s room, and I made an offhand comment about my date being shitty, and she leaped at the chance to help.”

“Leaped at the chance?” Sounds about right. Wyatt lives for adventure. “How much did you pay her?”

He shrugs. “I don’t remember.”

“Don’t you dare lie to me.”

He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans, probably the only dude in this place wearing denim.

“Enough to buy a LEGO set.”

Dang. Those can be expensive.

He must have been desperate. “Was your date so terrible that you had to hire a child to do your dirty work?”

Dex shrugs. “I’m sure other people have had worse, but the ankle monitor was throwing me off.”

Ankle monitor?

Welp, now I have a million questions.

I’m dying for details but don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I want to know details.

“And you paid Wyatt to ...” My voice trails off so he can fill in the blanks.

“Ruin the date.”

“And she ruined it by ... doing what?”

“By pretending to be one of my eleven illegitimate children.” He punctuates the sentence with a hard eye roll.

If I had a glass of water or wine held up to my lips, I would have spit it out with those last words.

“Did you say eleven illegitimate children?”

He laughs, tipping back his head. “She was calling me Dad and told my date about how she had ten siblings and has a reptile room at my house.” Laughs some more. “Snakes make me vomit, by the way—she was pulling things out of her ass.” He continues chuckling. “Classic Wyatt.”

Yeah. Classic Wyatt, I guess.

My eyes go wide. “You have a reptile room at your house?”

“No, she was making things up as she went along.” He leans back in his chair. “She’s a great actress. You should put her in classes.”

I feel my eyebrows rise. “You think she needs to learn how to be better at making shit up? No thank you, we’re not paying for the privilege when she could teach the class.

” I hesitate, knowing I should get back to my parents and my cold entrée.

“Why would you bring a first date to a place like this?”

“Because I’m a fucking moron?”

“That sounds accurate.”

“Gee, thanks.” His mouth is set in a grim line.

I tilt my head to the side, studying him. He looks exactly the way he did in those photos, the ones I’d accused him of faking.

Shit.

Even so, I don’t mention the dating app. I don’t tell him we matched. I don’t tell him I accused him of being a fraud. He doesn’t need to know I’m the woman who argued with him over petty bullshit in the Kissmet app.

Not worth it.

This man is an Adonis, and I saw the woman he was with. No way is a mousy elementary teacher his type.

“Well. Good luck to you, then. I should get back to my family.”

“Thanks for reminding me I don’t have one.”

My jaw drops open. “Are you serious? You’re such a dick!”

He chuckles. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

My nostrils flare; I am so ready to depart. “Have a good night.”

“I doubt that, but thanks.”