Page 14 of The Nanny and the Hothead
“Okay,” she answered warily as a terrifying thought tore through her.
He wouldn’t want her to go in the pool, would he? This was their first gig at a location with an actual pool.
“I don’t think I can swim in this costume, Sutton.” Maybe she could—honestly, she wasn’t sure. But she couldn’t show up to the speed date event soaked.
He glared at her. “Sutton…”
Ah, yes! The jackass had two names.
“Sutton Bryan, I’m not a real mermaid!” she exclaimed when a chorus of horrified gasps peppered the air.
“She’s not a real mermaid?” a child whimpered.
Charlotte looked past a stack of deck chairs. There had to have been fifty, no, more like one hundred people staring at her. A bunch of little boys that looked to be eight or possibly nine years old gathered in front of the group while a cluster of frowning adults looked on.
“You said you’d have a real mermaid, Declan! That’s the only reason the boys in our class came. Mermaids are for girls,” a beefy kid with a bowl cut snapped.
The birthday boy stared at her expectantly, bottom lip trembling.
Sutton Bryan turned to her, eyeballs ready to explode. “Fix this, or you’re not getting paid,” he hissed between clenched teeth.
Oh crap!
Charlotte waddled forward. “How do you know that I’mnota real mermaid?”
“You just said it, lady,” the loud-mouthed boy shot back.
“How do you know I don’t say that to throw people off? Imagine how many children would want to keep a real mermaid in their pool. I have to be careful.”
The birthday boy smiled up at her. “You are a mermaid!”
Crisis averted!
Charlotte’s hammering pulse slowed.
“She’s just some lady pretending,” the beefy boy replied before swiping a lollipop from a snack table.
Hopefully, that would shut him up!
She shrugged, playing it cool—or at least as cool as one can be with dozens upon dozens of pairs of eyes boring into them. “Maybe, maybe not! Declan is the only one who knows the truth,” she finished.
The birthday boy lifted his chin as the corners of his mouth gently tipped. “Yeah, I’m the only one who knows,” he answered, playing along. Thank God!
She tossed the kid a conspiratorial wink.
“Who’d like their picture with Charlotte the Mermaid? Go on and stand by the edge of the pool, Charlotte,” Sutton Bryan directed, sounding as smarmy as a used car salesman.
“Me first,” the bully called, dropping the candy to the ground, then charging toward her.
Heart hammering, she stared down at the kid and tried to muster some empathy. He was a kid. A little boy—nothing more.
“Grover, smile for the camera,” a woman crooned.
“Your name is Grover?” Charlotte asked.
The kid scrunched up his face. “Yeah, it’s Grover. Grover Cleveland Schulte. You got a problem with it?”
Oh no! The hostile bully was back!
