Page 101 of The Nanny and the Nerd
Channeling a seasoned detective, the child schooled her features. “I know what you’re doing.”
“You do?” he croaked like a pubescent thirteen-year-old.
“I do,” she answered as straight-faced as a Victorian-era headmistress.
He turned to Penelope. The tan had drained from her skin as pure terror reflected in her eyes.
“You were making Penny do the work,” Phoebe continued, sauntering over.
His mouth opened and closed like a flounder. “No, I would have reciprocated. I’d make sure she got to…” he trailed off as Penelope shook her head, her expression screaming, SHUT THE HELL UP!
“What exactly do you mean, Phoebe?” Penelope asked, plastering on a grin.
“Uncle Row should have been hiding on the floor with you. I never would have seen you guys down there behind the shelf,” Phoebe finished, then met his gaze. “When Penny tells you to go down on her, you should do it!”
Now Penelope was the one making the silent flounder face.
Blood whooshed through his body, pounding through his veins as his pulse kicked up. “What did you say, Phoebe?” He had to make sure he didn’t hear his six-year-old niece request he perform a sex act on her nanny.
“You should go downonPenny,” Phoebe shot back, enunciating each word.
Penelope released a relieved breath, which he didn’t understand one bit. This was not good, and where the hell did Phoebe learn about oral sex? It had to be school! He’d be making a stern call to Mrs. Bergen when they got back to Denver.
Penelope patted his arm. “I know what this is. It’s not what we’re thinking!”
“Are you sure because it sounds like exactly what I’m pretty sure we’re both thinking?” he asked, hoping she was right but preparing for the worst.
Penelope nodded as the color returned to her complexion. “It’s a preposition error.”
“A what?” he shot back. He couldn’t help it. In times of distress, his tech brain kicked in. He knew of syntax errors, logic errors, runtime errors, and interface errors—just to name a few. There were a shit ton of programming errors, and none of them were called preposition errors.
“Phoebe’s learning about prepositions in school.” Penelope squeezed past him, leaving the nook. She knelt in front of the girl. “Honey, I think you meant to say that your uncle should go downwithme, notonme,” she offered.
Ticktock. Ticktock.
Phoebe tapped her chin as he waited, his heart hammering, for the child to respond.
Come on, preposition error!
He’d never prayed for an error to occur. Errors were the bane of his existence as a tech entrepreneur.
Not anymore!
Now, he’d gladly work his way through a mountain of error codes if the child promised not to direct him—ever again—to go down on her nanny.
Jesus! Is this what raising a kid was like? Never in a million years did he think he’d be dancing around the topic of cunnilingus with a six-year-old!
Phoebe hit pause on the chin tapping. “Yeah, that’s what I meant. Uncle Row should have gone downwithyou,” the child replied with a wide grin, completely oblivious to her downright dirty preposition slip.
“Noted. Thank you for the hide-and-seek critique, Phoebe. I will take your guidance into consideration,” he answered as the flood of adrenaline coursing through his veins let up. He ran his hands through his hair, never more grateful for prepositions when he caught Penelope’s eye. She pressed her lips into a tight line, clearly holding back laughter as his overwhelming relief gave way to unyielding gratitude along with an emotion he’d encountered more and more these days.
Happiness.
Once, elusive. Now, nearly commonplace.
That exchange with his niece could only be described as pure mortification meets slapstick comedy routine. But he wouldn’t want to share this moment with anyone but her. Penelope, with her bevy of sticky notes and a sea of pens coating the bottom of her tote, made him better. And they were good together. Good with Phoebe. Good at work. Penelope had called his employees teammates. He’d never been a member of any team, not really, until now. Until she crashed into his life with her flip phone and called him a nerd. He held her gaze, unable to speak, but that was all right. He didn’t have to. That magnetic pull was there—like an invisible thread that connected them.
And he couldn’t help but wonder how he’d ever lived without her.
