Page 78 of The Nanny and the Nerd
He touched her cheek as pain welled in his eyes.
“Rowen, you can tell me,” she whispered as the man’s gaze hardened and his protective, robotic veneer slid into place.
She didn’t move. She could barely breathe as the revelation hit.
In her quest to understand him, she’d gone too far.
Sixteen
Rowen
You could have hearda pin drop.
Silent and frozen in place, he stared at a woman so breathtakingly beautiful and so genuinely kind he could barely contain the competing emotions battling within him. He had no choice in going mute. He had to turn everything off. He couldn’t allow the dam to burst—couldn’t tell her that all he wanted to do was forget his past and lose himself in another kiss. No, not just a kiss! Like a wild beast, his primal need to consume Penelope Fennimore was seconds away from overtaking him.
So much for the damned do-over.
All he wanted to do was her.
But it wasn’t just sex. He wanted it all—the lip nibbling, foot-tapping, sweet-smelling, genuinely good person that made her the object of his unquenchable desire. He’d barely known her a week, but he couldn’t imagine life without her. She’d tapped into a part of him he never knew existed and triggered a drive within him to let go—to draw down the walls and let her in.
“Rowen, I’m sorry for pushing you. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have respected your privacy,” she said, her sable gaze welling with concern.
He stared at theRand theT, remembering how he’d tried to keep his hand steady as he wielded the permanent marker and printed his initials.
“Rowen,” she said again, then rested her hand on his, and his hammering pulse slowed. He wasn’t one for touch. But the weight of her delicate hand atop his acted as a counter to the whirlwind of emotions raging inside of him.
He looked away from the domino and held her gaze. “My biological dad would pawn anything of value. He was a drunk and a junky. He couldn’t hold down a job. I figured if I put my initials on each domino and on the Game Boy, he wouldn’t be able to sell them.”
Her grip tightened on his hand. “There’s one missing.”
He could agree and let that be the end of the story. But it wasn’t.
“I don’t know what happened to it,” he confessed. “One of my dad’s friends gave me the box of dominoes and the Game Boy. The stuff was probably stolen. But at the time, I didn’t have much, so it was like Christmas. Most of my father’s acquaintances were real losers and rarely kind. It was different with this guy. He’d come around to drink or do whatever drugs one of them had scrounged up. But he was never cruel. We’d play dominoes from time to time. And then, one day, after he left, I couldn’t find one of the tiles. I was heartsick because I was never able to ask him about it or apologize for losing it. And I didn’t even know the guy’s name. My dad called himbro, but he called everyone bro.”
“He never came back?” Penelope asked, keeping hold of his hand.
Maybe it was her gentle touch or the way they were transported to this safe, hidden place where only the two of them existed. But he wanted to tell her. He should stop talking, but he couldn’t. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “No, I left—or rather, I was put into foster care soon after the tile went missing.”
“Why? What happened to your father?” Penelope asked, worry etched on her face.
He’d never spoken these words. He’d never had to. It had been in the police report, and then the information had made it to his caseworker. He recalled sitting in the buzzing police station, still stunned that an officer had come to the house to get him after his father didn’t come home. To block out the noise and chaos, he’d stared at a file on the desk of the detective working his case. A yellow slip of paper was paper-clipped to the top with the wordsCaseworker: R. Sullivanscribbled in crooked handwriting.
“My dad got into a bar fight, and he hit his head on the corner of the bar and died. My father was temperamental and could fly off the handle at any moment. Alcohol made it worse. I was around Phoebe’s age when I lost him, but it didn’t surprise me. Even as a kid, I knew my dad wouldn’t be with me for long.”
“And your mom?” Penelope asked, her eyes glassy with tears.
At the mention of his biological mother, a muscle ticked in his jaw. Besides the woman’s name, he didn’t know a damned thing about her.
And that’s the way he wanted it.
He threaded his fingers with hers. “My biological mother abandoned me. Cecelia Gale is the only mother I’ve ever known.”
Penelope nodded as she drew tiny circles on his palm with her thumb. It was quite possibly the most soothing sensation he’d ever experienced.
“I can see why you like to pretend to be a robot nerd,” she said with a sweet smile.
He chuckled. “You think I’m a robot nerd?”
