Page 63 of The Nanny and the Nerd
He came around to the front of the house and noticed his mother’s car parked in the circle drive.
What was going on? She hadn’t called or emailed him regarding this unscheduled visit.
A twist of anxiety tightened in his chest. While he cared deeply for his adoptive mother, he wasn’t one for unplanned visits.
Pulling into his parking spot in the underground garage, he glanced at Penelope’s car—no, he couldn’t call the Lamborghini Urus Penelope’s car. It was the nanny’s car. There! That’s how he needed to frame it. He cut the ignition, then took another look at the nanny-use vehicle—Jesus, that was a mouthful—then noticed something dangling from the rearview mirror.
Was that a unicorn pendant?
A sharp knock on the car door nearly had him hitting the roof of the Rover. He caught his breath and found a pig-tailed Phoebe peering in through the window. Wearing a pile of misshapen papers on her head, the child scowled at him.
When did she get here? He’d been so focused on not thinking of Penelope he hadn’t heard her.
He opened the car door, then had to do a double take.
“What are you wearing?” he asked, grabbing his leather messenger bag. Besides the crazy crown that appeared to be made of paper flowers, the kid wore a shirt with a hot dog printed on the front along with a set of child-sized pink fairy wings.
The paper crown slipped, obscuring her left eye. Phoebe brushed it out of the way. “You’re late,” she chided, eyeballing him, then tapped her foot twice.
“Those two taps better be for the wordun-cle, Phoebe Gale,” he countered, biting back a grin.
A guardian should care about shit like that. But he couldn’t care less if she swore like a sailor. The girl was smart. If she called a kid a butthole, the kid was most likely a butthole. Who was he to argue?
Mischief flashed in Phoebe’s blue eyes. “You’ll never know what I meant by the taps, Uncle Row! Now put on a fairy crown. I made this one for you,” she finished, handing over a construction paper monstrosity.
“What’s the crown for?” he asked, eyeing it closely. The child must have used a gallon of glue to hold it together.
“You’ll see,” she purred as she pretended to fly or buzz or whatever the hell hot dog fairies do before hightailing it to the elevator and pressing the button with her nose.
Note to self. Ask Mrs. Sullivan to purchase antibacterial wipes. What else did kids do with their noses? He almost didn’t want to know.
“Is Nana here?” he asked, knowing very well that she was. But Phoebe giggled at the question.
“It’s a surprise.”
He sucked his cheeks. He was no fan of surprises.
The doors to the elevator opened, and he inhaled the gentle hint of orange blossoms. Immediately, the tension in his shoulders relaxed a fraction. That is until he got a whiff of a completely different scent.
“Are you eating pizza?” he pressed as they entered the snug space.
Phoebe used her nose—again—to push the button for the first floor. “Yes! A man drove up to the house and delivered it! I tapped my foot, but it was to say thank you, not butthole. He wasn’t a butthole, Uncle Row. He was a nice man.”
“Where did you get this pizza? Was it from one of the organic restaurants we’ve visited?” he asked.
Phoebe shrugged. “I don’t know where the pizza is from. Penny ordered it. She’s in charge now.”
“Penelope’s in charge?” he tossed back.
“Yep, and tonight we’re celebrating,andwe’re doing my homework. It’s a family project.”
Family project?
The scent of pepperoni grew stronger. “Your homework requires copious amounts of salt and fat?”
The child huffed an exasperated breath. “Penny said Mrs. Bergen told her we all had to do it together.”
He vaguely remembered the wholehelp-Phoebe-with-literacyspiel Mrs. Bergen had given them, but he sure as hell didn’t remember sodium-laced dough and cheese being part of the equation.
