Page 25 of The Nanny and the Hothead
How would this work?
Before his world imploded, he’d thrived on human contact. But that piece of him died seven years ago. Now, he could barely stand being around others. Yes, the back of the house was a busy, crowded place. But everyone had a task, a purpose. There was no small talk in his kitchen. His employees kept their heads down and got their work done. What the hell was he going to do when he bumped into the nanny in his house—his refuge, his escape? His thoughts ricocheted through his mind. How the hell was he supposed to get his career back on track in that environment? Pulse thrumming, he had to slow down, or he’d give himself a heart attack. He scanned the remaining items on his desk. “What are the car keys for? I have plenty of vehicles,” he asked, needing to focus on something to hold it together.
“The camper van, of course,” Madelyn replied with a flick of her wrist like everyone had camper vans lying around.
“Why are you giving me keys to a camper van?” he shot back.
“This is why you’ve hired me, Mitch. I provide the framework to facilitate an effective transition.”
“And that includes renting a camper van?” he pressed.
Dressed to the nines, Madelyn Malone didn’t come off as a wilderness warrior. Connecting him with childcare made sense—setting up the school stuff, too. But hooking him up with a recreational vehicle seemed way out of the nanny match lady’s wheelhouse.
“Yes, it does,” Madelyn replied. “It’s an integral piece for your passage into parenthood, Mitch.”
His face must have said he didn’t know what the hell that meant.
Madelyn crossed her arms and zeroed in on him. Shit! He’d known her long enough to recognize that she’d crossed over into the no-nonsense nanny match maven mode. “Here’s how your next few days are going to go, young man. You and the nanny will drive in the camper van to retrieve your son. Then you’ll spend Saturday night camping before returning to Denver on Sunday. Come with me,” she said, breezing out of the office like she didn’t suggest the most utterly insane idea he’d ever heard.
This was flat-out nuts! She wanted him to camp with the nanny he’d never met and the son he hardly knew? It wasn’t that he was against camping. He used to do it quite a bit back when…
“Mitchell,” Madelyn called over her shoulder as she charged out of his office.
Mitchell? No one had called him that in years.
And he had to leave now—like this very second?
He shoved the items back into the envelope, grabbed his bag and roll of chef’s knives, then froze as he stared at the old spatula on his desk. For whatever reason, he swiped it off the table and tucked it into his bag, then met Ines’s gaze. “Did you know about this?”
“Not entirely,” she answered, coming to her feet. “Madelyn’s in charge of this part of your life. You need to do exactly as she tells you. She’s the best, Mitch. And you need as much help as you can get.”
It was true. He hated it—hated needing help, hated feeling vulnerable. He studied the kitchen before finding Monica and Gabe chatting with his manager. He knew exactly what they were doing. The pair was getting the lay of the land. Monica was taking notes while Gabe gestured to the different workstations. It’s what he’d do if he were in their shoes. Still, releasing his iron grip—even if it was to professionals like Gabe and Monica—set his nerves on edge.
“It’s under control, Mitch,” Ines assured him, then ushered him out the back door. He’d barely taken two steps outside before he gawked at what he saw. The camper van was enormous and currently blocking the entire alleyway. He didn’t even have time to blurt out an expletive. If anything deserved aholy shit, it was this! The horn blared with two sharp blasts, and he nearly pissed himself.
“What the hell is that?” he cried.
“That’s the horn,” Ines answered.
Did everyone think he was a complete idiot?
“Get in. You’re driving,” Madelyn called from the passenger seat.
“Is this for real?” he asked on a bewildered breath. Was he talking to the universe, himself, the damned monstrosity of a camper van? At this point, he didn’t know.
“It’s as real as it gets, honey. Life is about to move fast for you. And it would be a fuck ton easier if you could muster up a little trust and go with the flow,” Ines replied as gently as one can when insertingfuck toninto a sentence.
“I don’t do trust, Ines. You know that,” he answered as another defensive, bitter layer went up around his battered heart.
Madelyn leaned over and opened the driver’s side door. “Get in, Mitchell! There’s no time to lose.”
He gave Ines one last look before climbing into the camper van. He set his bag behind the seat, slammed the door shut, then took in the dash. With a bunch of buttons, multiple screens, and a battery of switches, it was like the space shuttle in there.
“I’m told this model contains every bell and whistle one could desire. Now drive,” she directed, not messing around as she took the envelope from him, then handed him the keys.
“Where are we going?” he asked, firing up the ignition. Was this her plan? Was she attempting to make him so scatter-brained he’d accept any nanny she presented?
He couldn’t lie. The damned strategy wasn’t a bad one. If she pulled out papers and asked him to sign over half the Crystal Cricket to her at this discombobulating moment, he’d probably do it. He was half out of his mind.
