Page 66 of The Nanny and the Nerd
“And don’t forget your crown,” Darla chimed with a twist of a grin.
Five to one. He was badly outnumbered.
“What are the crowns for?” he asked, buying himself some time. The last thing he wanted was a glob of glue stuck to his head.
“Check the refrigerator!” Phoebe called.
In the culinary carnage spewed across his kitchen, he’d completely missed the refrigerator.
“There are two magnets?” he said, forgetting the pizza and staring at the stainless-steel appliance.
Phoebe jammed a cookie into her mouth. “I got the new magnet from the prize box at school!”
“She earned another A-plus, Rowen,” his mother answered as he homed in on the sheets of paper tacked to the fridge.
“Phoebe worked so hard. I figured you wouldn’t mind breaking the one magnet rule for such a momentous occasion,” Penelope said, joining him.
“Yep, and Penny helped me study in the car! She screamedcock, and I said a-doodle-doo, then spelled rooster.R-O-O-S-T-E-R!”
What the hell?
Penelope blushed. “Rooster was one of Phoebe’s spelling words.”
“Penny called it out real loud! Cock!” Phoebe imitated, yelling cock for everyone in Metro Denver to hear.
Penny’s blush deepened. “It was a fun animal game we played in the car. Educational and not at all inappropriate because cock precedes a-doodle doo.”
She was almost as bad as he was!
“Tell your Uncle Rowen about the picture, Phoebe,” his mother called. The woman was an ace at defusing awkward situations.
Phoebe buzzed over, then pointed to the second sheet of paper hanging from his refrigerator. “It’s me and you and Penny on your big boat.”
“I didn’t know if this was a trip that you’d want me to join you on,” Penelope replied softly.
He glanced over his shoulder as all eyes were on him and the nanny. “We can discuss that logistical matter at a later date.” If Penelope joined them on his yacht, there was a good chance they’d swim, and he’d be seeing a lot more than just her feet.
“Sure, that makes sense,” Penelope answered as her blush returned.
“What do you think of my picture, Uncle Row?” Phoebe asked.
It was your typical kid picture—stick people holding hands. Phoebe was in the middle with Penelope to her left and him on the right. “Why does my face look like that?” he asked. The pout on the stick figure version of himself encapsulated the warmth of the skull and crossbones image posted on bottles of pesticides and dangerous chemicals.
“Because that’s your face, Uncle Rowen. Now put on your crown and eat a cookie,” Phoebe ordered, jamming the gooey thing into his palm.
He stared at it, and his stomach growled. The last thing he had to eat was a protein shake, and that was hours ago. Maybe it was his extreme hunger, but he couldn’t deny it smelled delicious.
“Go on,” Phoebe coaxed.
“Eat the cookie or wear the crown?” he questioned.
“Both, but I’ll help you, Uncle Row,” Phoebe said, waving him down to her level. He took a knee, and his niece placed the crown on his head. She leaned in. “Penny helped me make this for you,” she whispered as a strange warmth spread through him. “Eat the cookie. And don’t worry. There’s a lot more. When Penny and Nana weren’t looking, I hid a bunch all over the house so we can eat them whenever we want.”
He caught Penelope’s eye. Suppressing a grin, she shook her head and mouthed, “I found all of them,” then gestured with her chin toward a plate of cookies tucked behind a mixing bowl.
A peculiar feeling washed over him. The image of Phoebe hiding cookies and Penelope stealthily retrieving the treats brought him unexpected comfort.
“Well, Phoebe! I must be off! Will you help me carry the cookies for Mr. Sullivan,” Regina said, pulling him out of another nanny stupor.
