Page 49 of The Nanny and the Hothead
When he’d confided that he was in a world of shit with his career and didn’t have a damned clue about being a good father, it was as if he were under her spell. As the words fell from his lips, all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her and anchor himself to her goodness. He craved to hold on to this aura of kindness that followed her wherever she went. Standing inches apart, he’d been a breath away from claiming her mouth in a kiss so intense and so agonizingly sinful, it threatened to cost him everything.
He could not have her—not like that. There was too much on the line.
But the dogged impulse to claim her lips in a searing kiss had been damned near impossible to ignore. With his broken heart exposed and raw, the urge to disappear into this woman had nearly overtaken him. Had it not been for Oscar’s pebble storm of a welcome, he wouldn’t have been able to hold back. And it wasn’t just him—it couldn’t be. He’d seen the ferocity in her and sensed the energy pulsing between them. She felt something, too.
Dammit! Again, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t hook up with the damned alluring nanny.
Releasing a heavy sigh, he played the events of last night over in his head. He’d watched her sleep on that bench for far longer than he should have. Wearing his shirt with her head in his lap and the golden key glinting in the glow of the streetlamp, she nuzzled into him as if she’d spent a lifetime falling asleep while he caressed her cheek. And like a sucker, he’d held the key between his fingers and couldn’t help but wonder if this was the key that unshackled him from the myriad of locks he’d fashioned around his heart. It was a stupid wish—a pathetic momentary yearning he shouldn’t entertain. It was dangerous to believe that someone was the answer to his prayers. He knew better than anyone how foolish it was to hand your heart over to another on a silver platter, then trust that they’ll protect it.
It was dangerous to trust, period.
He’d made that mistake before, and he wasn’t about to make it again.
No, his focus had to be on jumpstarting his career and figuring out hownotto screw up his son. He loved the kid. It was impossible not to. The boy was smart and crafty—just like he was as a kid. It was like looking into a mirror. Except, it wasn’t exactly an even match. Oscar had twice the will—and twice the smarts—as he did. But they were on the same level with one Elliott trademark characteristic: a complete allegiance to bullheadedness. A willful drive that egged on others with a cunning smirk that saidyou’ll regret the day you messed with me.
He could ask the kid to jump, and the boy would nail his shoes to the floor. He had to find a way to reach him, a commonality to bond over. The connection was there. Unfortunately, at this juncture in their unconventional father and son journey, the relationship appeared to hinge on a decent amount of head-butting and mutual surliness.
How the hell would they move forward?
The last thing he wanted was to be like the man who raised him. But there wasn’t a perfect recipe for parenting. And what he thought might be the ingredients shifted from minute to minute,
A rocky crash cut into his thoughts. He looked over his shoulder to where Oscar was building a rock tower. Without a word to anyone, the kid had filled his pack with stones he’d pulled from the bank of a nearby stream. One by one, the boy stacked the smooth rocks, only to have them wobble and tip over before he started again—going back to the beginning.
Back to the beginning.
That was what Ines suggested he do. Go back to the beginning and unearth the spark he’d lost when the two people he loved the most had betrayed him in the worst possible way. How could he do that? Why would she even ask that of him? It was damned near impossible to catch lightning in a bottle once—Ines wanted him to do it twice!
He kept his focus on Oscar and watched as his son carefully placed a thin onyx-colored stone atop the pile. The stack teetered as the kid slowly lifted his hand. He could almost hear Oscar’s thoughts, silently commanding the pile to remain upright. That was another trait they shared. Both father and son tried to control the uncontrollable.
But he knew what was coming. He pounded the final stake and listened as Oscar’s rock tower tumbled to the ground in a burst of crackling thuds for what must have been the hundredth time. He felt a lot like that rock tower. He tried to stand firm, believing he had a handle on the situation, only to have another weight added to the load that sent it toppling. He dropped the hammer, rubbed his neck, then rolled his head from side to side, working out the kinks and knots when the door to the RV swung open, and Charlotte stomped out of the vehicle. Her ponytail brushed the nape of her neck in a fierce left to right swish as she scanned the campsite and frowned. This didn’t look good! She strode to the space between himself and Oscar, surveyed the scene with a crease to her brow, then pressed her fists to her hips.
“The silent treatment ends now, gentlemen,” she announced.
What had gotten into her?
Then again, to her point, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken. He’d been in his head as he’d driven the RV. And dammit, he couldn’t remember hearing a peep out of Oscar during the hours-long drive either.
His son looked up from the pile of stones and shrugged in response to Charlotte’s outburst.
She was upset. He should do something. But for the life of him, he didn’t know what to do. And he didn’t have a second longer to formulate a response. Time was up!
Charlotte huffed an angry breathy sound. “Does anyone here have anything to say?”
This felt like a trick question.
He caught Oscar’s eye. The kid shrugged again. It seemed like an appropriate response. He turned to Charlotte and duplicated Oscar’s move.
In retrospect, he should have taken into account her flushed cheeks and flashing eyes. He was acquainted with thistake-no-shitversion of Charlotte. He had to figure out what had set her off. Honestly, under the circumstances, she had a decent amount to be peeved about. But siphoning it down to one thing was damned near impossible.
“This is not happening! You two can’t simply pretend to be busy and ignore each other. That’s not the point of camping. You camp to connect,” she announced, then proceeded to remove her shoes.
“It’s a good idea to keep those on,” he said, watching her closely. Had the woman lost it completely?
“Yeah, my dad’s right, Charlotte! You need to protect your feet outdoors,” Oscar added. And holy shit! That might have been the first time his son had agreed with him on something. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
She chucked her shoes into the air like a maniac. “Well, look at that. They speak!” she remarked as her sneakers clunked to the ground.
Yep, she’d lost it! But he sure as hell wasn’t about to blurt that out.
