Page 110 of The Nanny and the Hothead
“Yes,” she purred.
He tapped the water bottle. “Try not to throw things at the customers. I know you have a history of hurling objects at asshats. But try to keep it under control.”
“Noted,” she answered, smiling at the guy like a besotted schoolgirl when her phone pinged. She startled, then released a slow breath, getting her bearings. “It’s my alarm. I set it to make sure we had plenty of notice before we had to leave to pick up Oscar,” she explained, pulling her cell from her back pocket. She tapped the screen, silencing the sound when an email notification flashed. She tapped the email icon as the breath caught in her throat. She could barely believe her eyes.
Sender: Royal College of Art
Application approval and scholarship award
Nineteen
Charlotte
Charlotte stared at the screen.Had she read it wrong?
No, it was right there in its digital glory—an email from the Royal College of Art. Her pulse had been thrumming for what seemed like days on end. This email sent it into overdrive.
Questions whirled through her head.
How could this email be in her inbox? She’d only applied on Saturday! Granted, the United Kingdom was seven hours ahead. But still! What had they done? Had they opened her application and been so wowed by her photograph of Mitch that they instantly accepted her and offered her a scholarship?
That certainly seemed to be what happened.
Granted, it was an incredible image. Yes, she’d been intoxicated when she’d taken it. Much of that night was blurry, thanks to the booze. But she would never forget what it felt like to frame him in the shot. The vulnerability. The look in his eyes. She’d captured the man behind the hotheaded mask. It was the kind of photo that would make you stop and stare and want more.
That’s what good photographers did. Like in Professor Tran’s shots, the true art of photography was to elicit a visceral response that left the observer with questions.
What is the subject thinking?
Is this a normal day for them, or had something extraordinary happened?
She tapped open the email with a trembling finger and scanned the text, picking up bits and pieces.
The committee met today.
Blown away by your submission!
Quite an eye!
Full scholarship.
We can’t wait to see you in London.
Please confirm your spot.
It wasn’t a mirage or a figment of her imagination. The committee had been wowed. No, more like super-wowed, if that was even a real word.
“Charlotte? What is it?”
At the sound of Mitch’s voice, she fumbled with her phone, pawing to close her email like her hands were made of butter.
“It’s…um…just a photography thing. A little workshop,” she stammered, not exactly sure what to do with this information.
“Just a workshop? Like a continuing education thing?” Mitch asked, watching her closely.
“Yeah, something like that,” she confirmed, not quite lying and not quite telling the truth. She flashed him a bright smile, going for casual.
She needed a minute to think. This was huge—crazy, amazing huge! An opportunity of a lifetime!
