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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.