Page 88 of The Nanny and the Hothead
Too bad it was easier said than done.
He’d spent the next hour in the shower, shivering under the cold spray. It was the only thing he could think of to do to get his mind off the curve of her hips or the way she arched into him, taking every inch of his hard length. He’d barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her.
“Dad?” Oscar called, pulling him out of his sleep-deprived, Charlotte-induced haze.
“Right! Let’s get that picture,” he stammered, then joined the boy. Resting his hand on Oscar’s shoulder, he peered past Charlotte and glimpsed at the food truck as another barrage of emotions hit.
Say Cheese, Louise was back in his life.
It was just a food truck.
That’s what he’d been telling himself this morning. But as much as he tried, he didn’t believe it.
Not only was the truck the most poignant reminder of his past. It was now the place—another place—where he’d made love to Charlotte. In those fleeting moments, he’d allowed his walls to come down. And Christ, it had felt good—a welcome reprieve from dwelling in the wasteland of raging anger and prickling resentment.
Still, he hadn’t meant for it to happen. But with her, he broke his rules.
For the last seven years, he’d purposely lived a life where he didn’t delve into the nitty-gritty of other people’s business. The gruff, hothead mask he’d donned had worked at keeping everyone at arm’s length until her.
Until Charlotte.
When he glimpsed at the plane, he couldn’t help but recall the wistful expression on her face as she’d stared up at the starry night sky and spoke of Mr. Cheesy Forever.
That’s what she wanted—the dreamy, happily ever after Prince Charming.
Maybe he’d fit the bill once. But that wasn’t him—not anymore.
He shouldn’t have asked her about it. And he sure as hell shouldn’t have talked about Holly and Seth’s betrayal. But it was so easy with her—so easy to forget the hardened, bitter man he’d become.
“Mitch, will you look at me?” she asked, peeking over the camera.
“What?” he sputtered.
He had to get ahold of himself!
“Could you smile for the picture?” she coaxed.
He frowned. “You want me to smile?”
She chuckled, and it was the sweetest sound. “Yes.”
His lips tingled as his body remembered the sensation of the corners of his mouth curving into a euphoric grin as he kissed her. Everything clicked. The noise in his head quieted, and the rage in his veins cooled. It was the first time he’d felt the ease of pure joy in ages.
The ease of pure joy?
What was he? A badass chef or a pansy poet?
He had to cut this out! She worked for him. It was as simple as that.
“Yeah, Dad! If you want to smile, all you have to do is think of something that makes you super-duper happy. And then this will happen to your mouth. Watch,” his son instructed. The left side of Oscar’s mouth curled, then the right. “See, I’m thinking about grilled cheese sandwiches—like the one you made for my lunch,” he finished, grinning ear to ear. He’d never seen his son smile as much as he had since…again, since Charlotte.
“That’s a good tip,” he rasped, his throat tightening.
What was going on? Was it the stress? Was it the myriad of changes in his life? Why did it feel like he had the emotional stability of a roller coaster?
It was as if he were unraveling.
Staring down at his son, something he should have taken to heart years earlier solidified inside of him. And while he appreciated Oscar’s suggestion, he didn’t have to think of food to smile.
