Simply Irresistible: The Irresistible Series, #1

By Marlyn Love

"When Fate Serves Up Love, Can They Resist the Irresistible?"

 

Emma Campbell, a determined single mom, is pouring her heart into building her own baking empire. Love may have betrayed her in the past, but she's content focusing on her family and expanding her business – romance can take a backseat.

But destiny has other plans when the charming millionaire, Nick Brown, enters her life. Despite her resolve, his mere glance sends her heart into a sweet frenzy, just like chocolate on a warm summer day.

 

For Nick, the world sees nothing more than a successful, handsome man with deep pockets. Tired of the superficiality surrounding him, he's ready to give up on love. That is until fate brings Emma and her adorable six-year-old daughter into his life.

An instant connection ignites, surprising them both. But as fate plays its wicked game of truth and dare, will they stand strong against challenging circumstances, or will love's test prove too much to bear?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Marlyn Love
• Release date: Sep 10, 2021
• ISBN: 9789083168210

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Emma

Done! With a content smile, I examine my masterpiece—a multi-layered chocolate cake. Looking at it, I can imagine the sensations you get when you take a bite. First, a hit of the rich, decadent, dark chocolate with its deep, dense character, before the delicate mix of sweet and tart from the raspberries comes in. And when you think it can't get any better—the grand finale... luxurious white chocolate.

Modesty has no place here. This creation is orgasmic.

I'm Emma Campbell, owner of Simply Irresistible, a small bakery I run from home. I specialize in custom bakes, delivered to the client's door. My kitchen is my workplace, from where I create pies, cupcakes, scones, and any other sweets for special occasions.

Mommy! Charlotte, my six-year-old daughter, yells as she bursts into the kitchen and hugs me, breaking my train of thought. Is the cake finished?

I brush a hand over her cheek. Yeah. Now I have to bring it to the Petersons.

I'm coming with you, she announces with a grin. They always give me candy.

Fine. Let's go, cupcake. We have to be quick, though. We’ve got to get back home and ready for tonight.

I waste no time as I grab the cake box and make my way toward the front door. Normally, I don't do everything by myself as my neighbor, Miranda, helps me deliver my creations, but she's on eight weeks of leave—meaning I do not only have to bake everything from scratch, I also have the added stress of getting it to the right place at the right time.

Charlotte gives me a wide grin and jumps up in the air with excitement. Tonight is the night you might meet my new daddy.

My heart aches as her words ring in my ear. I meant to talk to her about this before it gets out of hand, but I couldn't bring myself to upset her. Maybe I should ask my best friend Alisha to speak with her. It's her fault for putting the idea in her head. Planting the box on the kitchen island, I beckon her toward me.

Sweetie, come here.

Her bubbly laughter and the familiar scent of her coconut shampoo fill my lungs as I stroke my fingers through her blonde hair. I need you to listen to me, I say, trying not to sound too harsh. I understand you want a daddy, but it's not something that'll happen overnight. These things take time, sweetheart.

Her brows furrow in confusion. But it could happen?

Please... don't count on it happening tonight.

She shrugs. Okay.

My brows lift at her reaction, but I put it aside and kiss her on the head since time is ticking. Let's go.

Ten minutes later, Charlotte is sitting next to me in her car seat. I hoped her questions would falter after our discussion back home; unfortunately, her curiosity has only increased.

Mommy?

I give her a quick nod to show I'm listening. Yes, sweetie?

I want to be a big sister.

I swallow to reduce the instant dryness in my throat. Oh. Why?

She turns in her seat, her face serious. Because then I'll have a daddy too.

My hands grip the steering wheel tighter as I contemplate what to say, but she interrupts my inner monologue.

Does my real daddy love me?

The seriousness of her question brings tears to my eyes. I turn my head and gaze at my sweet girl, who's biting on her bottom lip, awaiting my answer. Unable to think of anything better, I say, Sweetheart, your daddy loves you.

Her eyebrows knit together. Why did he leave?

He got frightened, honey. Even grownups get scared sometimes.

Charlotte considers my answer. Will he come back to meet me? She avoids my gaze, and her lips press together while she rests her hands folded in her lap. 

I don't know, Charlotte. The longing in her voice for a daddy makes me glance away and try to swallow the growing lump in my throat.

Keep it together. When I focus back on the road, my eyes widen, and alarm bells go off in my head. I slam the brakes, which make a high-pitched squeal on the road as I hold my breath and mentally pray. Out of instinct, I stretch my arm out to protect Charlotte as we skid closer to the car that's stalled in the narrow street. My heart is beating a thousand times faster than it should and my hands are shaking like leaves. Once our car stills and my eyelids part, I look at my girl, who's looking at me with wide, questioning eyes.

What happened, Mommy?

I peer through the window and notice we've stopped inches from an expensive black Porsche. I had to stop because of a parked car. I let go of the lungful of air I wasn't even aware I was holding. But my relief is brief when Charlotte yells, Mommy—the cake!

I jump out of the car and open the backdoor of my Volkswagen Caddy. I pull the box—which has shifted—toward me. The dent in it isn't reassuring, and when I open it, I momentarily forget about Charlotte.

No. Shit. FUCK!

Charlotte draws in a loud breath. MOM!

I groan, clasping my hands over my eyes. Yes, Charlotte, I know they're bad words, I say as I stare at the damaged cake.

Two bad words, to be specific, an unfamiliar man's voice says, and I turn on my heels.

My eyes widen when my face is inches from his chest, where I pick up on the warm, woodsy scent emanating from him. I inhale deeper. It's so... enticing.

Are you okay? You came close to hitting my car.

Holy Shit. I take one step back to stare at him. He's around six feet tall, with a well-built body and long, muscular arms. My eyes travel further up along his neck to his sculpted cheekbones. He has a well-groomed, square jawline and full, sensual lips.

His forehead shows slight wrinkles as he lifts his dark eyebrows. As I stare at his caramel-colored hair, my mind slides into a sensuous place, and when we make eye contact, I'm tongue-tied. His irises are a rich, dark brown color, speckled with gold. He's mesmerizing.

Oh my god, what am I doing? One gorgeous man, and I'm imagining doing things I've never done. Like placing whipped cream on his lips and removing it with my tongue.

He continues to stare at me. Miss, are you okay?

I snap back to reality and remember him saying he's the owner of the car. I shake off my unwanted, steamy thoughts and try to maintain a level of normality.

Why the hell is your car stopped in the middle of the road? I could have hit you, or your car... or injured this little girl. You... you pudding-head. Did you even consider how careless you were being?

Nick

Forest green eyes lit with anger. The same eyes that moments ago were examining me from top to bottom. I'm used to women doing that—what I'm not used to are women giving me an animated lecture. Pudding-head? Who the hell says that?

I reply by giving her a piece of my mind. If you had paid more attention to the road in front of you, you wouldn't have needed to swear in front of the kid. I smile and give the sweet-looking girl a playful wink. She has been observing the entire conversation. My words seem to fuel the fire in the woman's next stream of words. 

You're blaming me? she proceeds with her hands on her hips. You stopped your enormous car on this minor road, you idiot.

You're calling me an idiot? If you had been paying more attention, you would have noticed my warning lights were flashing. So stop yelling. You're not the victim here. Her eyes lock onto mine for a second time, and my dick reacts. For God's sake, she's only looking at me.

Get in the car, Char! she says, glancing at the girl standing next to her.

But the cake… the little girl says, pointing to the car.

I follow the direction she’s pointing and see an open box. Inside are the remains of what must have been an exquisite cake. Now, however, there's a deep crack running through the middle. I can buy you another cake.

"I didn't buy this cake."

My brows knit. But you can still eat it, I point out with a shrug. With this remark, the woman's eyebrows lift, and her full lips turn into a tight line. I bet she's cursing at me in her head, but I can't help but find the mad, irritated expression on her face sexy as fuck. How would she taste? I bet she tastes sweet and creamy, like the frosting on that broken but delicious-looking dessert. Damn, what am I doing? I press the sinful images away that want to take over and return to reality when the little girl talks.

You're tall, mister. I stare at the girl who inspects my height and continues asking questions. How tall are you?

I'm six feet four.

So... you're a giant.

A genuine laugh escapes me—from her viewpoint, I'm a giant. Yeah, I suppose I am. I grin while looking down into her sparkling eyes.

Okay, Charlotte. We're leaving.

The child waves at me as she gets back in the car. Bye, Mister Giant.

The woman opens her door, and I realize I don't want this surreal situation to end yet, so I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, Good luck delivering the cake, miss. Watch out for other cars. The cake can't survive another emergency stop. 

As if bitten by a snake, she turns back to meet my eyes, and I can't help but note her fantastic frame—curves in all the right places. Within moments, I imagine her body naked below me, but her voice, tinted with more anger, pulls me from my short but incredible fantasy.

You find this funny? she questions, stepping towards me. You arrogant, insensitive jerk. She pauses again. Let me explain something to you. You have cost me hours of work that I don't have the time to repeat. As a result, I'll disappoint a lovely family with a broken cake.

She gets in the car and starts it. When she puts her foot on the gas pedal and drives off, I'm standing there, stunned by her words.

Arrogant, insensitive jerk? Her words linger in my head, and a second later, it hits me. Shit, she made that cake herself. I run my fingers through my hair. That's why she was so pissed. It wasn't a cake from a cake store. I raise my eyes, but they're long gone.

Damn, I should have paid more attention and remembered the license plate number. My phone buzzes in my pocket; I grab it and read the message.

One new message (Amanda).

Hey, will you be coming back to your office?

My fingers tap a quick reply.

I'll be there in fifteen minutes.

I fix the flat tire and place the tools into the trunk. Fifteen minutes later, I open my office door and face a frowning Amanda sitting behind my desk with her legs stretched out and her high heels resting on my desk. She stands as I walk towards her, and we hug.

What brings you here, sis?

I let go, and alarm bells ring in my head at the sight of her sparkling eyes.

Amanda and I inherited the entrepreneurial gene from our father. She's set up her clothing store with outstanding success, and even though she presents herself as the sweet, innocent type, she's a real lioness in business.

Why do I sense you're here to ask me for a favor? I question while watching her reaction.

Because I am. I need you to come to my auction tonight.

I shake my head. No.

Nick, that's not fair, she whines. Before you say no, you need to listen to me explain why I'm asking this. Amanda places both hands on her sides. She always takes this pose when she's determined to get what she wants.

I take a deep breath while walking towards my office window, where I wait for her to continue.

This auction means the world to me, and I need more publicity.

And I can help you with that, how, exactly? Stupid question because I already know the answer.

Nick, you're the most wanted bachelor in Boston. If you show up, there will be more paparazzi, and paparazzi means publicity.

I hate the term "most wanted bachelor." It brought me nothing but attention from women with the wrong motives. I loved it at the beginning. For a while, I fucked every woman my cock desired, but it got boring after a while. I don't want a woman who's with me for my money.

Are you going to help me?

I repeat, No. 

Nick. Please. Amanda pulls out her prowling lip.

Shit, I mutter, staring outside as I wait a second to respond. You just want me to attend and sit there?

Yeah. You will make me the happiest sister in the world. I love you, Nick. Please help me make this evening a success.

I close my eyes and run my fingers through my hair, considering my answer. Fine, I say with a puff.

Thank you, thank you. Thank you. Come here and give me one of your giant hugs, Amanda replies while dancing.

I chuckle, hearing her say giant hug. It's something she used to call my hugs when we were young.

Thanks again, Nick. She kisses me on my cheek and watches me with a bright smile on her face.

Yeah, yeah, I say, still doubtful.

Amanda grabs her coat and walks towards the door. I'll text you the time, place, and dress code, she says while running out the door and before I can respond—that little devil.

I hate dress codes.

As I sit in my chair and gaze outside, my mind wanders back to the little girl calling me a giant. She was cute. But then, my thoughts drift to the woman with stormy, emerald eyes, and my body reacts again.

Okay, time to focus on work.

As I walk behind the auction venue's scenes, people are running around like crazy, but when my eyes acknowledge a familiar brown-haired woman, I shout, Amanda?

Her dark eyes sparkle, the corners of her mouth turn upwards. And I know I made the right choice.

Nick. You're here. She takes me in. You're looking handsome, big brother.

Well, thank you, sis. Where do you want me to sit?

Oh, somewhere in the front. She guides me through a corridor packed with people working and points to a table in the first row. There, you'll have the best view of the women.

I give her a sarcastic eye roll. If you're trying to hook me up, it's your loss. I'm not bidding. I'll sit here and support you, but when it ends, I'm going home.

She raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms. Oh, come on, Nick. There are gorgeous women on stage tonight, she declares with a wink. And you can't say no to a beautiful woman.

I'm done with dating for a while.

Amanda blinks and shrugs. Hmm... okay. For how long—a week? When she notes my bemused expression, she says, Nick, you love women, and women love you.

I want to commend her on that when another woman comes and stands next to Amanda.

Oh, good. You're back. Alisha, meet my brother Nick.

I give the good-looking blonde woman a hand when a familiar girlish voice calls me.

Giant? 

My eyes drop to the blonde woman's side. It's the little girl from the cake incident. She steps towards me and hugs me. With her small arms stretched, she glances up at me with an abundant smile. God, her bright smile can make your day.

Charlotte. What are you doing? Alisha asks while staring.

I squat until I'm on eye level with the girl—she beams, and I smile back at her.

Hey, you. What are you doing here?

She smiles. My mommy is in the auction.

Alisha, with a curious expression on her face, focuses her attention on Charlotte. Sweetie, how do you know Nick?

I met Giant this afternoon when Mommy almost hit his car. She was furious at him because the cake she made for Mrs. Peterson broke, and she called him an arrogant, insensitive jerk.

The girl giggles when she's saying this. I smile at her detailed retelling—but I'm stunned to hear the fiery young woman is her mother. That was your mom? I ask for extra confirmation.

She lifts her shoulders in question. Who else should she be, dummy?

Okay, sweetie. We need to find you a place to sit, Alisha interjects, but Charlotte grabs my jacket and stares me straight in the eyes.

Can I sit with you, Giant?

Hearing her call me giant is touching my heart. I answer without hesitation. I'd love for you to keep me company. You can make sure I don't fall asleep.

Charlotte giggles again, and I promise to make this little girl laugh more tonight because it’s the best sound I’ve heard in a while. When I stand up straight, I make eye contact with both women. Their mouths hang agape by the straightforwardness of Charlotte and my reaction. I turn my attention to Alisha. 

If it's okay with you, Alisha, I'd like to watch the show with this little lady. We'll sit in the front where you can see us.

Oh...hmm... sure, she answers.

Okay, let's go, missy, I say to Charlotte while pointing to the room. She jumps up, and when I sense her small, soft hand grabbing mine—it releases a sensation I can't describe.

Bye, Alisha. Bye, Amanda. She beams.

As we walk away to a table in front, Charlotte asks, Was the woman next to Alisha your girlfriend?

No, that was Amanda, my little sister. We reach a table near the podium and take a seat while Charlotte continues.

I want to be a big sister one day, she says, wiggling on her stool to find her place.

I think that's a decision for your mom and dad. Are you thirsty? I ask, trying to change the subject.

Yes. Charlotte inspects the drinks on the other tables. Can I have a colorful drink?

I wave, and a server arrives. 

What can I get you, sir?

Can I have a colorful drink for the young lady?

No alcohol, please. I'm only six, Charlotte says with a serious voice.

The server looks startled, but he recovers and smiles. Sure, miss. No problem. And for you, sir?

When Charlotte gazes at me with questioning eyes, I have my answer. Make it the same.

Right away, Charlotte's entire face beams. Maybe I was wrong—this could be a fun night.

CHAPTER 2

Emma

Keep breathing, I say, stationing myself in front of the full-body mirror. I can do this. My attention falls to my feet. I'm wearing black high heels with ankle straps that show off my toned legs. My eyes wander further to my form-fitted moss green dress that ends a centimeter above the knee. Okay, I look good in this outfit. My hair is flowing around my face, and my make-up is natural with eyeliner, blush, and a hint of lip gloss.

God, I'm nuts for doing this. Alisha, you owe me, I mumble while my heart palpitates in my chest. She might be one of my best friends, but persuading me to take part in a charity auction is ridiculous. I'm moments away from standing on a podium where men will bid on me for a date. 

Amanda, Alisha's boss, has organized this auction. It's a fundraising event for the children's hospital. While hosting this unique event, Amanda puts her clothing line in the spotlight by bringing each participant on stage in one of her outfits. Alisha had to find one participant for this evening, and that turned out to be me.

Why didn't I stick with my first answer? 

My hands get clammy imagining myself going to dinner with a stranger, and I pinch the bridge of my nose with two fingers.

What if I hate the guy? Or he turns out to be a serial killer or a pervert with a weird fetish? I groan to myself. Going on a dinner date is scaring the shit out of me.

Hey, girl.

Bella walks into my dressing room, and we hug each other. Together with Alisha, this woman has been with me through thick and thin. She is gentle and relaxed—the opposite of Alisha's straight-talking, in your face personality. Despite their differences, though, both women are like sisters.

Alisha persuaded you to take part in the auction. She giggles.

Oh, please. It's making me sick to my stomach. Want to go in my place?

Bella gives me a playful wink. No way. Keep in mind, it's for a noble cause.

There's no way I'm going to raise any money. I'm a mother with a six-year-old daughter. These men will run for the hills when they discover that. The guys out there don't want that kind of commitment.

Bella's facial expression has changed from happy to determined. Oh, please. You are a gorgeous, young, hot mommy, she declares, placing her hands on her hips. And Charlotte is the coolest kid you could ask for.

I laugh at her supportive statement. Thanks, Bella, for boosting a girl’s confidence.

To be honest, it's time you put yourself back on the market.

I rub my hands over my face. Yeah, but I don't want to give Charlotte false hope.

What? She shrugs. You're going on one date. You're not marrying the man.

I take a deep breath and explain my concerns, Charlotte told me she hopes I find her a new daddy tonight.

Bella blinks in silence at this revelation.

This morning, she asked if her real daddy loves her, and if he will ever come back.

My red haired friend takes a deep breath. Damn, that's a hard conversation.

Yes, it was, I say while fidgeting at my clothing. So, you're right. I need to be open to meeting a nice man.

Okay, stop it there, Bella says, lifting a finger and pointing it at me.

Let's be clear. You're not settling for a nice man, girlfriend. You need to set your guy bar way higher. She waves her hand above her head. So, you're going for an irresistible, panty-dropping man that can swoop you off your feet.

I roll my eyes at her comment. That is raising the bar to skyscraper heights.

It's better than waiting and settling for a conservative, likable guy. They will bore you in no time. I've dated those, she mumbles. You need to trust me when I say you need to find a panty-dropping, super-passionate man. Bella's lips curl upwards. It's time for you to get laid, girlfriend. She points to my cross with an enormous smile. How long have you been without a hard cock between your legs? 

Heat colors my cheeks red at her straightforward question. 

That's what I mean, she says while cocking an eyebrow. "Since Charlotte, you haven't been with a man. Your body is craving a real man: not that pink vibrator we gave you a few years ago. Please tell me you're at least using that from time to time." 

I didn't imagine I could turn redder than this, but my face must be the color of an overripe tomato with Bella's intrusive questioning. Right away, my mind drifts to the past.

The first and the last man I had sex with was Charlotte's dad. And during these intimate moments with him, I never had an orgasm. So, I questioned myself. Could I have one?

I had never tried to pleasure myself to discover if I could give myself an orgasm because I thought it was weird, but then Alisha and Bella gave me the pink vibrator on my twenty-first birthday. Embarrassed, I hid it in a drawer. I felt too ashamed to admit I had sexual needs. I was a single mom. How can you want sex when you are busy raising a child? But after a while, I noticed I had needs.

One night, I remembered the gift, and I opened my drawer and grabbed the vibrator. Result—I have my private moments, and they leave me satisfied every time.

Bella winks. I know enough. You're still enjoying our gift, but it's time to find a replacement for the pink goddess.

I smirk. Why? I'm more than satisfied with the goddess. I don't need a man.

My friend stares straight at me. Oh, girl. If you find that right man, you will throw it out quicker than you can even say orgasm.

My mouth drops, and my heart beats faster while my nipples harden at the idea of experiencing an even better orgasm.

So no settling for a likable man, Emma, she repeats with an arched eyebrow.

Okay, I will take your suggestions on board.

Treat it as a test drive. This complete experience will help you get back in the dating saddle.

Hmm, that sounds acceptable.

You enjoy yourself, and show the men tonight what a hot mommy you are, Bella says with a wink as she performs her trademark sexy, hip-swaying walk.

Let's go, girl. With that, I walk over and give her another hug.

Enjoy tonight, sweety. I'll drop by your house tomorrow. Now it's time for me to go back to my paintings.

We walk out and go our separate ways. It takes a minute to find Alisha, and when I'm behind her, I touch her shoulder. She pivots around and lets out a squeal when she assesses my outfit.

God damn, Emma, you're hot, girl. The face of the other woman standing next to her displays a broad grin. Oh, Emma, meet Amanda, my boss.

My eyes move to the woman standing next to my other best friend—she has flowing brown hair, and her irises are a deep, captivating brown. They remind me of... no, don't go there.

Nice to meet you, Emma. You have a brilliant daughter. She's adorable.

Oh, thank you. They're both gawking at me with weird smiles on their faces.

Okay, what's wrong? Why are you both looking at me with those weird expressions on your faces? And where is Charlotte? My gaze travels in search of my girl. I left her with you when I was changing.

Alisha smiles. Relax, she's okay.

Amanda walks away while giving Alisha a wink.

What the hell is going on here?

The weird behavior and the strange expression on your face are making me nervous.

With a smirk on her lips, she responds. You are one sneaky best friend. Why didn't you tell me you met a hot man?

Huh? What are you talking about?

Alisha puts one hand on her hip and speaks, Amanda's brother, Nick.

Who? I ask, narrowing my eyes as I think. I don't know anyone called Nick, and I'm sure I don't know who Amanda's brother is, so I don't know if you had too much to drink or you're acting this strange because you're nervous, but you're not making any sense.

Alisha keeps smiling. What if I say arrogant, insensitive jerk? Does that ring a bell?

Flashes of deep chocolate-brown eyes take over my mind, and my body responds at once. I press my legs together because of the sudden tingling sensation, and I bite on my bottom lip as my mind guesses why she is saying those specific words.

She smirks. Ah, bells are ringing.

Who told you that?

Charlotte explained how you came close to hitting a car this morning. And that you called the driver of the other car an arrogant, insensitive jerk.

My cheeks burn. So?

Well... it turns out the man you called an arrogant, insensitive jerk is Amanda's brother. His name is Nick Brown. He's the most desirable bachelor in Boston.

Alisha smiles as my mouth opens and closes, but no words come out.

Oh my God, you’ve got to be kidding me right now. How in the world is that possible?

Charlotte ran to him and hugged him the moment she saw him. It was adorable, Emma, she says. She has a nickname for him—Giant. Alisha's expression has turned into a dreamy one.

What? He's here? I ask.

Yes, he's here. He came here to show his support for his sister.

No, no, please—this can't be happening.

Where's Charlotte? I mumble with caution. My fashion loving friend walks to the curtain that separates us from the rest of the room and gestures for me to come.

Peak through this curtain—Charlotte is sitting at one of the front tables.

I move to the curtain and pull it aside. I'm captivated by the room—it's elegant. The decorators used different hues of blue and purple, which, combined with the large fountain, give the room a magical, angelic vibe. The place is full of people chatting and waiting for the auction to begin. My focus drifts to the tables in the front. When my eyes find Charlotte, my heart skips a beat. Even from this distance, her irises are sparkling, and a gigantic smile brightens her face. My heart skips a beat when my gaze gravitate to the man sitting next to her.

It's him. It's Mister Chocolate Eyes.

He's wearing a black suit. The top two buttons of his white shirt are open, and my eyes wander over his chest. This man oozes confidence and masculinity. I suck my bottom lip between my teeth as my attention roams further over his stylish appearance. The way his lips curl up when he grins causes a stream of desire to course through my body. His physical appearance goes from sexy to utterly irresistible with that golden smile he has. And the way he interacts with Charlotte is stirring unknown feelings deep inside of me.

Are you done drooling? The auction is starting, Alisha whispers from behind me.

I jump up and close the curtain before walking back to where I was standing.

He's easy on the eyes, isn't he? she asks.

I shrug. A little.

Oh, you big, fat liar. I saw the way you were gawking at him. You're attracted to him. The way he interacts with Charlotte is heart-melting. Admit it, Em.

I notice Mister Nick has convinced my feisty friend with his alluring appearance. Alisha's smiling face shows it. But I know I have to use my rational mind here—I can't risk Charlotte getting hurt. Or me.

I shake off the warm feeling that has taken over my body. Oh, stop it, Alisha. Did you even consider the possibility that he might try to make a wonderful impression by pretending to be this kind?

She cocks her eyebrow up at me. Fine. I see you have your walls back up.

I let out a giant sigh. God, please help me get through tonight.

Nick

Enjoying the pink drink?

It's delicious. Do you like it too, Giant?

I can't help the satisfying rush of happiness every time Charlotte calls me Giant. Yeah, it tastes great.

Do you mean that? she asks while eyeing my face.

I look Charlotte straight in the eyes. I mean it. Otherwise, I wouldn't say it.

That's good because a lot of grownups lie to kids. I don't like it when they do that.

I agree with you. That's why I always try to be honest with everyone.

Content with my answer, she nods and takes another sip through her straw while a few photographers take pictures of Charlotte and me.

Why are they taking pictures of us, Giant? she asks in a low whisper. Are you famous? Famous people get photographed.

It's because they're wondering who the young lady is sitting beside me.

Now you're lying, she says with wisdom beyond her years.

I smile and tell her the truth. I'm great at my job, and since I don't have a girlfriend, they enjoy taking photographs of me.

She ponders for a moment and comes up with a surprising response. My mommy is amazing at her job, and she doesn’t have a boyfriend, but she never gets photographed.

I can't help but laugh. I love this girl’s sharp mind. The photographers leave when the auction starts, and Amanda walks up to open this special evening. I can't help but be proud of her.

She's beautiful, Charlotte says while looking at