When Stars Collide (Light in the Dark #2) - Micalea Smeltzer Page 0,39
orders an Oreo one for me and an M&M one for himself.
“Are McFlurrys on the NFL practice diet?” I wag my brows. “Are you breaking the rules with me?”
He chuckles. “I burn enough calories to eat a McFlurry if I want to.” He sits up and grabs his wallet from his back pocket.
“I can pay—” I reach for my wallet and he gives me a death glare.
“No,” he says sternly. “I’m buying it.”
I shrug. “I’d normally argue with you because I’m like that, but I did think I was pregnant with your giant spawn today so you kind of owe me.” I sit back in the seat while he hands over a ten-dollar bill to the cashier.
He shakes his head. “Giant spawn?”
I wave my hands at him. “Have you not looked in a mirror? You’re like six-foot-five and built like a tank. Your child would break my vagina.”
The cashier squeaks and throws the money at Xander. Apparently, she doesn’t like the word vagina.
Xander shakes his head again, his laughter filling the car. “I’m six-foot-three.”
I guffaw. “Oh, big whoop, like that makes such a difference. And I can’t believe I mention the breaking of my vagina and you focus on your height.”
“Well, my height is factual and our child is fictional.” He grabs our McFlurrys and hands me mine before driving over to an empty space and parking his truck.
“Bleh,” I gag. “Just hearing you say our child makes my ovaries shrivel up and die.” I pull the spoon out and lick the ice cream and Oreo goodness from it.
He frowns. “Don’t diss our fictional baby. He has feelings.”
“What if our fictional baby is a girl?”
“What if it’s a squirrel?” he counters.
I gasp and flick my ice cream at him, and it lands on the side of his face. “Our fictional baby isn’t a squirrel.”
His eyes widen. “Did you flick ice cream at my face?”
I smile sheepishly. “Sorry—heat of the moment and all that jazz.”
He’s not listening to my weak excuse, though. Instead, he slings ice cream at me and it lands in my hair. I look down at the blob of ice cream and lone blue M&M then back up at him.
“Oh, it’s on.”
And then we’re slinging ice cream at each other. Our laughter fills the air and ice cream goes everywhere, but for the moment, we don’t care about the mess, because the joy is in the now and the rest can wait until later.
Sticky ice cream sticks to my skin and I should probably be cringing at that fact, but I don’t think I’ve ever had more fun than I am right now so it doesn’t matter. Xander’s just as much of a mess as me, with ice cream stuck in his hair, dirtying his clothes, and even some stuck in the scruff on his cheeks. We run out of ice cream and our cups fall to the floor. The only sound in the space of the truck is our breathing and we stare at each other as the temperature rises.
I think I move first, leaning my body over the center console and wrapping my hands around his neck, drawing him close to me.
I press my lips to his and he groans low in his throat. His hand finds my waist and he tries to get as close to me as possible. My hands move to his face and stick slightly from the drying ice cream. He angles my head back, sweeping his tongue into my mouth. My whole body ignites with desire and he pulls me onto his lap. The space is cramped, but neither of us seems to notice.
His fingers press into my hips with enough pressure that I won’t be surprised to find bruises in those spots in the morning.
We’re so lost in each other that we don’t even realize someone’s knocking on the window of the truck. It takes a loud smack of their hand and for them to yell, “Hey!” before we notice them.
The McDonald’s employee glares at us like we’re ruining her day. I wonder if it’s the same one that was scared by my use of the word vagina.
Xander reluctantly rolls down the window.
“You guys need to go.” She glares. “Or we’re going to call the cops,” she warns.
Xander nods. “We’ll go.”
She stands there, waiting for us to do just that, and Xander lifts me off his lap onto the other seat, looks pointedly at the McDonald’s employee, and puts the truck in reverse.