Page 37 of The Nanny and the Nerd
He’d temporarily lost his damned mind and told her she was his. A simple slip of the tongue—easy to explain away with the amount of stress he’d been under since taking in Phoebe and watching his video game empire falter before it had a chance to get its footing.
Still, when Madelyn suggested he assist Penelope in moving from her place to his and then proposed Erasmus, Logan, and Mitch help, he’d been thrown for a loop. Maybe he should have notified the nanny. All right, he absolutely should have let her know he’d be packing up her stuff and transporting it to his house. But something inside of him didn’t want to give her the chance to say no—to tell him she’d reconsidered and changed her mind.
They’d had a bit of a rocky start—even someone socially awkward could see that. He’d messed with her when she didn’t know who he was. And she’d laid into him pretty good for it. But she’d gone to Phoebe’s school with him, and she’d charmed the pants off of his niece. After they left Penelope at her car, all Phoebe could talk about was how she wanted to be a flying fairy princess hot dog like her new nanny.
Maybe their encounter outside the bar wasn’t that bad. Granted, he had shown up out of the blue. But he’d stayed outside, and he had given her ample socialization time. He and the guys from Madelyn’s group were good for about ten minutes of conversation. He couldn’t even imagine how to shoot the shit for an hour and twelve minutes. Still, once he found her location, thanks to the GPS tracking app, he couldn’t stop staring at her. He’d been there quite a while before her friend had noticed him. This gave him plenty of time to drink in her every movement, her smile, the way she’d twist a lock of golden hair as she listened to her friends, and how she grew animated, waving her hands as she spoke. And he wanted more. He wanted to observe her and dissect each movement. There were security cameras all over his house. He could watch the feeds.
No, that was legit creepy. And he didn’t need to resort to that. She was sitting next to him. She’d be living in his house. She hadn’t spoken a word since she’d gotten in the car, but the fact that she was here with him had to count for something.
Christ! Who was he kidding?
He was lucky she hadn’t done more than poke him in the chest this evening. The spectacle in front of that bar had gone about as well as his last video game release.
Speaking of video games, he hadn’t gotten a damned lick of work done. And there was so much to do. Yes, there were technical glitches, but that was simply a matter of isolating an issue and correcting it. Something was missing from the game. An elusive omission he couldn’t put his finger on.
“What was that?” Penelope asked softly.
He glanced over and found her staring at him. “I’m sorry?” he said, immediately gluing his eyes to the road.
“You were mumbling,” she replied, shifting in her seat. He could feel her eyes on him—feel her lean toward him.
He cleared his throat. “I do that from time to time when I’m thinking,” he said, slowing for another light.
She smiled that smile he wanted to believe was just for him as the glow from the dash illuminated her face. “I do that, too,” she admitted.
“You do?” he asked as the light changed.
“Yeah, when I’m writing. Once, I was in a coffee shop working on a story, and a lady tapped me on the shoulder and wanted to know if I needed help.”
“Why would she ask that?” he replied, and for the first time today, the tension that had knotted the muscles at the base of his neck began to relax.
Penelope sat back in her seat. “I was working on a story with a Camelot twist to it, you know, knights, maidens, and princesses.”
He understood completely. That was the inspiration for AI-77.
He nodded, giving her space to continue.
She laughed, a tender, bubbly sound that went straight to his battered heart. “I was writing a bit of dialogue and must have said it aloud.”
It was interesting to think of her as having quirks like him. Despite his adoptive family’s love and kindness, he’d always felt like an outsider, a person who lived in that space just beyond the bell curve of what was considered normal. Perhaps he had more in common with Penelope Fennimore than he thought.
“What were you saying?” he asked. It wasn’t like him to prod. It wasn’t like him to care all that much about the mundane details of anyone’s life. But with her—the nanny—he wanted, no, he needed to know.
“Don’t laugh. It’s a little corny,” she replied.
He could hear the smile in her voice. “I won’t laugh at you, Penelope,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion.
Jesus! What was going on with him? But before he could answer, Penelope straightened in the seat. Had she sensed the earnestness in his tone?
She crossed, then uncrossed her legs. “It was dialogue from a romantic scene between two characters, where the hero confesses his love for the heroine.” She paused as if she were falling into the story. “Here goes, the arrow might have pierced my heart, but you’re the one who’s stolen it.”
“Well, then,” he answered because he couldn’t think of what to say. He wasn’t a mushy love letter type of guy by any measure. But her words hit him hard. Not much made it past his toughened exterior, but with the cadence of her voice, her sweet scent, and the calming hum of the engine, he was at peace—calmer than he’d been in weeks.
“Think of it like a Lancelot and Guinevere moment. It must sound ridiculous to you,” she finished. He could sense her hesitation—which he didn’t understand. It was a damned good line.
“What happened next?” he pressed.
She did that leg cross thing that was about as enticing as the lip bite move. “What do you mean?” she asked.
