Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 91065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I’m surprised by how perceptive she is. “Yes.”
“Hmmm,” she hums. “You know, if you paid me, I could help you run her off.”
My ears perk up.
It’s that easy? All I have to do is pay her?
“Really?”
This kid is fucking brilliant! I like her. I like her a lot.
“Really. I’m having dinner with my family, and they’re boring.” She yawns. “My grandma is hounding my mom about her love life, and who wants to sit and listen to that?”
Sounds good to me! “You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.”
She nods. “Cool.”
I pull the leather designer wallet out of my back pocket and unfold it, glancing down at the money tucked inside.
I remove a twenty and hold it out to her. “This oughta do it.”
The kid has the audacity to fold her scrawny little arms across her chest.
“Twenty bucks?” She snorts. “Don’t insult me.”
I stare her down. “But how old are you? Like, eight?”
She pulls a face. It looks like she’s sucked on a sour lemon. “I’m not eight—I’m ten.”
Great.
A preteenager, probably in middle school.
“You’re not supposed to ask people their ages, unless you’re an ageist,” she announces with authority.
“What’s an ageist?” This is a new term for me.
“When you discriminate based on age.”
I shift on my heels. “I’m not discriminating. I was making an observation.”
“You were trying to take advantage because you thought I was a kid.”
I mean—she is a kid. But I’m not stupid enough to say that out loud so she can give me another set down.
“What’s your name?” she asks.
“Dex.”
The kid lets out a low whistle. “Yikes.”
I refuse to feel insulted by someone not even five feet tall.
“What’s yours?”
“Wyatt.”
I nod appreciatively. “That’s a pretty badass name.”
“I know.” She flips her hair.
“Okay, Wyatt—how much is it going to take to get you to help me out?”
Wyatt rubs her chin, deep in thought. “Well. The LEGO kit I want is a hundred and fifty bucks.”
My eyes bulge. They’re charging that much money for bricks these days?
I pat at my pockets and come up empty. “I don’t have a LEGO kit on me right now. Sorry.”
Wyatt rolls her eyes. “I know you don’t have a LEGO kit—but you can give me the cash and I’ll buy it. I’ll beg my mom to take me to the mall.”
I narrow my eyes. “Are you shaking me down right now?”
’Cause this feels like extortion.
“Shaking you down?” She narrows hers back at me. “I don’t know what that means.”
Not sure if I believe her; she seems really smart. I begrudgingly remove a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill from my wallet, plus another twenty to sweeten the deal, and make the amount a cool one forty.
“This should cover the LEGO set.”
She plucks the bills out of my hand. Counts them like a banker—then counts them again—and slides them into the pocket of her conservative floral dress.
“Not one fifty?”
“Sorry, kid. It’s all I have—unless you take credit cards.”
“Fine.” She looks around. “So what’s the plan?”
No idea.
“You’re the mastermind here.”
Wyatt nods in agreement. “That’s true. I am. No offense, Dex, but you don’t seem like the kind of guy who’s quick on his feet.”
My mouth drops open. Never have I ever had anyone say that to my face, and if any of my teammates or friends overheard her—specifically that twat Landon—they would drop dead laughing.
Not quick on my feet?
Wyatt is a little shit, that’s what she is.
But also: she’s not wrong.
She doesn’t give me time to reply, asking, “Do you have kids?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Did you tell your date that you don’t have kids?”
I shake my head again. “I might have mentioned it?”
Wyatt snaps her fingers. “Oh! I have an idea—why don’t I walk up while you’re at the table and pretend you’re my dad? I’ll really lay it on thick. She’ll think you’re a huge liar and get mad.”
Hmm. Solid plan—but I still have my doubts. “What if it doesn’t work?”
She smiles up at me. “Satisfaction guaranteed or your money back!”
“Good enough for me.” I have total confidence in this short person I bumped into by fate. “So . . . now what?”
Wyatt gives me a none-too-gentle shove, pushing me in the direction of the open dining area. “You go back to your date and let me handle this. Pretend to act normal.”
Obediently, I walk back to my table the way Wyatt has instructed me to, Madisson watching me with a curious stare as I approach. When I pull out my chair and reseat myself, I give her a nervous smile.
Remember to lay the napkin back in my lap.
Can she sense that I’m up to no good?
“Hey, babe.” She leans over to kiss me. “What took you so long?”
Babe?
That’s a no from me.
Do not pass go. We have known one another fifteen whole minutes, twenty tops.
“What took me so long?” I frown. “Uh. There was a line.”
She purses her lips unsympathetically. “Pfft. Try being in line for the bathroom at a concert.”