Page 86 of Irresistible

“I’m feeling the chocolate peanut butter pretzel tonight,” she says.

I tilt my head. “I haven’t had it, but it sounds delicious. Is that mint chip I see though? I have a hard time having anything else when that’s around.”

Marlow’s lips poke out with her grin. “You look like a mint chip guy.”

“Delicious and refreshing?”

Dakota giggles. “You don’t look delicious and refreshing.”

“No? Do I look green and chippy?” I tease.

“No.” She shakes her head, laughing harder.

Marlow opens the cabinet as Dakota says, “Mama likes hers in a bowl. Do you want a bowl or a cone?”

“A cone!”

“Me too,” Dakota says, eyebrows lifted in excitement.

She’s absolutely the cutest little girl I’ve ever seen.

She runs to the other cabinet and stretches on her tiptoes to get out the waffle cones.

I pull all three cartons of ice cream out of the freezer and take the scoop out of Marlow’s hand.

“How about you let me get that for you,” I say.

“Oh…sure,” she says, more bashful than I expected her to be after last night.

I wonder if it’s weird for her to have me in her space…or if maybe she’s still adjusting to living without Cash.

She’s wearing leggings and a shirt that falls over her shoulder. I watch her as I scoop ice cream into the cone first for Dakota and then in the bowl for Marlow.

“Thank you,” she murmurs after Dakota’s loud, “Thank you, Wyatt!”

When I have mine, we move to the table and sit down.

Dakota tells us about her weekend with Grinny and Owen. How much fun she had and how they played with Hermioneep a lot and how many stories Owen read to her at bedtime.

“He can readeverything,” she says. “And you know what? I know how to read too now. Not like Owen, but I know c-a-t. Cat. And d-o-g. Dog.”

Marlow looks at her with pride. “Nice. Did Owen teach you that?”

“Yep. Oh, and p-i-g. Pig.” She grins.

“Look at you. Before you know it, you’ll be reading everything too,” I tell her.

Dakota notices the backpack by the door for the first time. “Are you doing a sleepover?” she asks.

My eyes shoot to Marlow’s and she’s blinking slowly, looking guilty as fuck.

“Uh…I like to bring my backpack sometimes,” I stall.

“What do you bring?” she asks.

“Boring things like work papers and such.”

God forgive me for this one small lie.

---