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My mouth drops open, “Ahh! What are you doing?”
Beckett chews twice then swallows the whole mouthful and I’m positive my face reflects the disgust I feel.
“What?”
“Isn’t that cold?” I ask, not sure why I have to explain my reaction.
“I guess,” he takes another massive bite and I have to look away.
“I can’t watch that,” I say with a shiver.
“How are you supposed to eat it?”
“I dunno, like a human,” I reply, carefully biting off a piece of the chocolate coating.
Beckett laughs, “And how am I eating it?”
He takes another bite, obliterating the rest of the ice cream piled on his cone.
I eye him, “Like a German Shepard.”
Beckett starts to laugh, then freezes as he works to swallow what’s in his mouth and not spit it out.
I give him a look that says “see” then continue to work on my own cone.
I can feel Beckett’s gaze on me while I catch the dripping ice cream with my tongue. Licking the vanilla goodness carefully, one section at a time.
“I’d have said you need to eat it quickly in order to not make a mess, but clearly you’ve mastered this skill.”
In answer, I smile at him as my lips close over the top point.
By the time I finally finish, Beckett has shifted around in his seat several times and looks ready to stomp back over to my side of the truck.
