Page 48 of The Nanny and the Hothead
Oscar met her gaze. “She also told me I shouldn’t call my dad names. But I’d get so mad, I couldn’t help it.”
She waved him in and lowered her voice. “I have something you can do whenever you get frustrated. It’s something my friend Penny showed me when I was your age. And it works like magic.”
“What is it?”
“Do you want to call your dad a super-duper hothead?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
It was time to lighten the mood.
The boy’s demeanor brightened. “Yeah.”
“Watch my foot,” she said, then tapped out the six syllables for super-duper hothead. “Super-duper hothead,” she said, doing it again. “Only you know what the taps mean,” she whispered conspiratorially.
Oscar’s lips twisted in a wicked toothy grin as the RV’s horn blasted. He came to his feet, then glanced into his room.
“Try the taps,” she encouraged, rising to stand next to him.
He stared at the floor, and she held her breath. A beat passed, then two.
This had to work!
The boy needed a way to work through all the emotions that had to be trapped inside of him. She wasn’t a child psychology expert, but the taps had sure come in handy when she was his age.
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.
He smiled up at her.
“You got it,” she said softly.
She picked up his backpack, helped him put it on, then offered the boy her hand.
He gave his room one last look, then rested his hand in hers. She gave it a squeeze. “Here we go, Oscar. This is where our adventure begins.”
Eight
Mitch
Mitch poundeda tent stake into the hardened, pine needle-covered ground, then stood and walked to the next corner. Over the last several hours, as they’d made their way across the state to the campsite, he’d maintained his stony, muted countenance—his silent facade of control. But even now, as they set up camp under the setting sun, he couldn’t deny the truth. It was an act. His body vibrated with nervous energy as he hammered the next stake into place. Usually, the crisp late spring mountain air cleared his head. But after the last twenty-four hours, it would take a hell of a lot more than a fragrant mountain breeze to calm his frayed nerves.
It had been one hell of a day!
This time yesterday, he’d learned that Gabe and Monica were stepping in to run his restaurant and that Madelyn had matched him with a nanny. He thought things seemed out of control then! Jesus, look where he was now—setting up camp with the son he barely knew along with the woman who’d hurled a salad at him. He was so out of his element, so absolutely oblivious. In the kitchen, he was in control of every minute detail. He ran the show and called the shots. He knew what to expect, and he knew what was expected of himself.
Who was he now?
Who was this new, off-balance version of Mitch Elliott?
For Christ’s sake! He’d spilled his guts to Charlotte on the side of the road. He’d stared into her emerald eyes and couldn’t hold back. His jaw had nearly hit the ground when she’d put together the timeline. She now knew that he’d learned that Oscar was his son three years ago. He’d have to watch himself and be more careful about what he disclosed. Despite his best efforts, she’d penetrated his defenses. If she were anyone else, he’d cast her aside and block her out. But she wasn’t just anyone.
She was his nanny match. And under the circumstances, he was damned lucky she hadn’t slapped him in the face and quit, right on the spot after waking up in a moving vehicle. Yeah, he could have played it differently. He could have picked up Oscar on his own and left her with Penny and Rowen. But he didn’t—because he wanted her with him. Still, she didn’t exactly hold all the cards. The only saving grace was, in her tipsy tequila-clouded state, she’d let a few pertinent, private details fly as well. She was broke, jobless, and looking to find her Mr. Cheesy Forever. He couldn’t help her in the cheese-covered, soul mate department. What he had left of his battered heart wasn’t worth giving. But he did have plenty of cash and desperately required a nanny.
Like it or not, they needed each other—which introduced the next complication.
He was her boss…again!
Here’s the problem.
When their eyes locked, and he met her fiery gaze, she didn’t feel like an employee. She was his equal, standing her ground and not giving an inch. It was utterly intoxicating. Not to mention, her scent and that damned ponytail were making him crazy. Every time he saw it, it ignited the dirty fantasies that begged for one touch, one lick, one bite of her strawberry sunshine sweetness.
