Page 60 of The Nanny and the Hothead
She honestly had no idea!
And here she was, sitting across from the man’s son as they headed toward home. Her new home. Mitch’s home. Her boss’s home!
And then it hit her like a punch to the gut. She’d barely been a nanny for two days, and she’d already slept with her employer.
Could she chalk it up to extreme duress?
Could being thrown into a completely foreign environment cause a normal, level-headed woman to briefly lose her mind and engage in mind-blowing tent sex?
There were many, many stressors!
The skunk versus owl escapade had thoroughly freaked her out. And Oscar had taken the photo to prove it. But when Mitch and Oscar started laughing, and that laughter manifested into an all-out giggle party between father and son, she’d thought of Professor Tran. And while she wasn’t embedded in a refugee camp, she’d found herself in a slice of time that needed to be documented.
When Oscar leaped into Mitch’s arms, she’d caught it in a series of shots. It was as if she’d disappeared. No, not disappeared. She’d allowed herself to become absorbed in the totality of the moment. She’d become one with her camera. The shutter opened and closed in rapid succession as the man she’d once pegged as a heartless hothead wrapped his arms around his son. A picture said a thousand words. These images were no different. But when she’d looked at the pictures alone, listening to the rise and fall of Oscar and Mitch’s sleeping breaths, one phrase rang out over and over.
Go back to the beginning.
She’d captured Mitch and Oscar’s new beginning.
The photos documented a profound shift. With a crinkle to the corners of his eyes, Mitch’s entire demeanor transformed from unease to surprise to a sense of wondrous awe. And she’d caught it, frame by frame.
She’d stared at that smile—Mitch’s smile. God help her! The thought of it made her core clench. And hello, Tingle City! The curve of that man’s lips was something to behold—something that made her pulse race. And she couldn’t forget the man’s intensity. He radiated masculine energy. When he’d caged her in with muscled arms, pinning her in place, she hadn’t felt trapped.
Quite the opposite.
She’d felt protected just as she had when Mitch sent the hairy speed date creep packing. Mitch had tried to play the asshole chef card. He’d attempted to hide behind the hotheaded mask. But it was too late. She’d seen him—the real him. Kisses like that couldn’t lie.
Or could they?
Her stomach twisted at the thought of Mitch’s harsh words.
The only thing I need you to do for me, Charlotte, is your job.
She couldn’t even get angry. He was right. Still, a part of her couldn’t believe that she’d read him so wrong. Reaching into her tote, she removed her cell. She’d sent the images from her camera to her phone and had fallen asleep scrolling through them. She was about to tap the camera icon when her phone rang. And her jaw dropped.
It was her mom!
Gloria Ames never called. Charlotte swallowed past the lump in her throat. She wouldn’t allow herself to get excited—not yet. “Hi, Mom!” she said brightly, but no one was there. The line was dead.
She opened the text box.
Charlotte: I saw you called, Mom. Are you ok? Everything good in Florida?
She waited, her heart pounding as a kernel of hope sparked in her chest. Three dots flashed across the screen as her mother replied. Charlotte embraced this momentary happiness. Her mother had made the first move and reached out.
Mom: Sorry, Charlotte! I must have accidentally dialed you. I was trying to call my boyfriend. I’m at the salon. I’m going blond!
She stared at the message. Blond? She and her mom shared the same auburn locks. It was the one thing they had in common.
Charlotte: Why are you doing that? I thought you liked your hair.
Mom: Phil suggested it.
The kernel of hope fizzled.
Charlotte: Who’s Phil?
She didn’t have to ask. It didn’t matter what the guy’s name was. He’d always rank higher in her mother’s heart than she ever could.
