Page 52 of The Nanny and the Hothead
“Did she?”
Oscar stopped, tapped his foot twice, then smiled up at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
He knew about this foot business!
Rowen had mentioned this foot-tapping trick to him. His niece did it. Penny taught her to use it instead of saying one particular bad word. “Did you tap outbutthead?” he asked his son.
Maybe this bonding session wasn’t going as well as he thought it was.
Oscar gasped. “You know the trick?” the boy asked, his jaw nearly hitting the ground.
“Yeah, I’ve heard about it. And you can’t go around calling your old man abutthead,”he answered.
A sly smile bloomed on Oscar’s lips. “I didn’t tapbutthead.I tappedhothead. That’s what Charlotte says she calls you. It’s a funny word. I like it!Hothead Dad,” the boy said, tapping out the three syllables.
God help him! He was starting to like it, too. He was ready to cop to it when a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the mountainous terrain.
“Dad!” Oscar exclaimed. “What is that?”
Oh no!
Mitch scanned the desolate landscape as adrenaline surged through his veins. He turned to his son. “It’s Charlotte!”
Nine
Mitch
Mitch’s pulse quickened.
Where the hell was Charlotte? And how did she get so far ahead of them? For Christ’s sake, she wasn’t even wearing any shoes!
He and Oscar shared a worried look, then picked up their pace, sprinting in the direction of Charlotte’s voice.
“There she is, Dad!” Oscar cried as Charlotte came into view.
They headed toward her. She’d stopped in the middle of a small clearing and stared at something on the ground past a trio of boulders. He breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t hurt. But as they got closer, the woman waved her hands. Except she wasn’t gesturing for them to come to her. No, she was telling them to stop.
Why would she do that?
“What is it? Are you hurt?” he called.
She was standing and seemed to be able to move her arms just fine. He didn’t see any cuts or bruises. But she remained frozen in place. She raised her finger to her lips and shushed him—an odd reaction since she was the one screaming her head off ten seconds ago.
“Dad, look,” Oscar whispered, pointing to a spot on the ground not ten feet from the woman.
Now he understood the screaming—and why it had stopped.
Mitch hung his head. This is why it was a bad idea to go frolicking around the woods near nightfall.
“It doesn’t look like a regular skunk. But I still think it’s a skunk,” Charlotte whisper-shouted across the clearing.
She was right about that!
“Leave it alone, and you’ll be fine,” he answered, keeping an eye on the spotted skunk, who, at least at the moment, didn’t seem that concerned with a terrified, shoeless redhead.
“But it’s not moving,” she called back.
He shrugged. “It’s a skunk. It’ll do what it wants.”
