Page 55 of The Nanny and the Hothead
This was his first hug from his son.
“I think we got him, Oscar,” Charlotte said, taking one last shot before lowering the camera.
“Did we get you, Dad?” the boy asked through a toothy grin.
Mitch nodded, pulling himself together as his gaze flicked from his son to Charlotte. “Yeah, you got me. You both got me,” he answered, giving the kid one final squeeze before setting him down.
Charlotte sighed, then looked up at the full moon. “I’m no camping expert, but I think we missed the window to forage for wood.”
“We don’t need to. We’ve got a whole big bag of wood. Want me to show you?” Oscar asked.
“Hold on a second,” Charlotte blurted with a crease to her brow. “We already have wood? Where is it? How did it get here?”
All good questions!
Mitch turned to his son. “What are you talking about, Oscar?”
“I found it when I was exploring the RV,” the child explained. “It’s in a big canvas bag next to a box of chocolate bars in a storage bin near the back.”
“We have chocolate?” Charlotte exclaimed, and Mitch took note. He figured she might be a bit peeved about the wood supply. But the mention of chocolate seemed to wipe her mind of the animal adventures that had derailed her plan.
Oscar nodded. “There’s a whole box of full-sized candy bars,” the kid answered like he was sharing the secrets of the world with her.
Good to know! Charlotte and Oscar were mega-chocolate fans.
He hadn’t tried his hand at desserts in ages. But if chocolate made these two grin like a couple of cocoa-obsessed super freaks, he could dust off his sweets skills. And just like that—like back in the old days—the ideas started flowing. Soufflés, fudge, tarts. The list went on and on.
“I’ll help you with the wood in a second, Oscar. I could use a minute to catch my breath before we start a fire,” she answered. Her body coming off the hit of adrenaline, she leaned against the side of the RV.
He clapped his son on his shoulder. “Why don’t you go inside the camper and see what else we have in there. If there are chocolate bars, I bet there are also marshmallows and graham crackers. You can see if we have the ingredients to make s’mores,” he added, then turned his attention to the nanny. “I’ll stay out here with Charlotte.”
“You got it!” the boy exclaimed.
“Would you mind taking my camera inside with you?” Charlotte asked.
Oscar straightened his shoulders. “I’ll be real careful with it,” he answered, cautiously accepting the item, then grabbing her tote bag before disappearing inside the RV.
Once the boy was gone, Charlotte cradled her head in her hands. “I hope the owl versus skunk situation doesn’t scar Oscar.”
What was she talking about? How could she not see it?
He tipped her chin to meet his gaze, and damn, the pull of the invisible thread between them intensified. “Charlotte, this is the happiest I’ve ever seen him,” he confided as the urge to sweep her into his arms nearly overtook him. That’s exactly what he’d done last night after she’d fallen asleep on the bench. He’d carried her to the RV and gently set her down on the plush sofa bed. And then he’d watched her sleep and listened as she quietly murmured. He wasn’t a sentimental guy anymore. In Charlotte-speak, he was noMr. Cheesy Forever. But seeing her in his shirt with the key around her neck glinting in the light almost made him think that the man he used to be hadn’t completely disappeared.
Almost—but he knew better.
She looked up at him with such tenderness. And despite knowing damned well who he was and what he was andwasn’tcapable of when it came to matters of the heart, he couldn’t ignore the dizzying current pulsing through his body. Even in the misty darkness lit only by the moon and the RV’s dim outdoor light, everything was brighter when she was there. The sheer power of it took his breath away.
A shiver traveled through her body, and he felt it—that energy that danced between them. Her chest heaved as she inhaled a shaky breath, then looked away, breaking their connection. He should be grateful that she could exercise some semblance of control. He dropped his hand to his side, but that didn’t stop the pads of his fingers from tingling.
“My plan for a fun family activity went about as well as I assume it’s going for that skunk. You don’t have to try to make me feel better, Mitch,” she said, her eyes trained on the ground.
Heat rose to his cheeks. He couldn’t let this stand. He couldn’t let her think for another second that she’d done something wrong. He pressed his hands against the RV—one on either side of Charlotte’s head—then leaned in, going into alpha-chef mode. And thisalpha-chefrequired her full attention. “I’m not trying to make you feel better. I thought you knew better than that. I don’t go out of my way to be nice to anyone.”
“That’s not true,” she replied. The strong-willed salad-hurler had returned. She pressed onto her tiptoes, and her warm breath caressed his lips as her words floated in the air that sizzled with anticipation. “I thought that about you once. But I don’t believe it anymore.”
Every cell in his body called out to her. He shouldn’t want her like this. He was an asshole, a brick wall, a tyrant in the kitchen, and a sourpuss anywhere else he went. He’d become a jerk—by design. Nobody wanted to get close to a jerk. He’d hidden behind his gruff demeanor. It was easy to maintain the simmering rage when he was only responsible for himself, and he could spend his free time focusing on his painful past. Before he learned Oscar was his, he was content to live a life yelling at the kitchen staff, then holing up alone at his home to wage another war—a war with his demons.
But he wasn’t alone anymore.
