Wayne spooned up a big glob of ice cream and sucked it in. Wayne’s sweet tooth rivaled my own, so I was anxious to know what he thought. “Damn, Tally. That’s some fine ice cream. What do you think, sugar?”

I almost responded. After all, I’d been Wayne’s “sugar” for most of my adult life. But I caught myself just in time as Wayne handed the spoon to Brittanie.

She dipped the tip of the spoon into the ice cream and held it to her lips. She shuddered. “Ooh, it’s way too rich for me.”

Wayne rolled his eyes. “Ah, geez, Brit. Lighten up and have just a bite.”

Brittanie thinned her glossy lips and narrowed her deep blue eyes. In a heartbeat, the curvy coed went from looking like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth to looking meaner than a skillet full of rattlesnakes. I dang near got whiplash watching the transformation.

“I would think you’d be happy if I didn’t pig out on ice cream, Wayne. I mean, you don’t want me to get fat, do you?”

Whoa. Low blow. Behind me, I heard the synchronized gasps of Alice, Kyle, and Bree.

Apparently I was going to have to learn to count to twelve with Miss Fancy Britches Brittanie.

Wayne had the good grace to look abashed. He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Dang it, Brit. Don’t be a sore winner.”

Winner? Winner? I couldn’t count high enough to let that one slide.

“Lord a-mighty, Wayne, do you really think you’re some kinda prize? I hate to bust your bubble, but I washed your BVDs for over fifteen years, and you ain’t a prize.”