The first one was intense, the second knocked him off his feet. What if the next was even better?
Sammy's fingers smudged against cool glass. Contemplation scrunched his face.
"Up, Dean."
Dean lifted him to see all the ice cream choices.
"Just pick one," Dean groaned.
"Can't, still twenty-nine to try."
The man behind the counter glared. "No more samples, kid."
Lower lip jutted out, large eyes pleaded to Dean. Sammy's feet again touched ground. Dean marched into battle.
"One cup, some of each," Dean demanded.
"We don't do that."
A wad of bills hit the counter. "Now you do."