Page 89 of The Nanny and the Hothead
He had a remarkably amazing son.
At six years old, the kid was rolling with the punches better than he ever could. The tension melted from his body. It was the first time he’d peered down at the boy without a flash of Seth and Holly’s betrayal slicing through him.
In the morning light, with the sounds of the sparrows and the click of Charlotte’s camera capturing the scene, he saw his son. He saw a child who liked grilled cheese sandwiches, chocolate bars, and sleeping in tents. A curious, precocious boy who dabbled in photography and zipped around with a clunky Polaroid camera hanging from his neck. He gave the boy’s shoulder a squeeze, then caught Charlotte observing them. Her expression was the very definition of compassionate tenderness.
She was the catalyst—the buffer that smoothed out not only his rough edges but Oscar’s as well. She was the bridge that had brought them together.
“That’s it! That’s the shot,” she said softly, raising the camera. The shutter opened and closed with a mesmerizing series of clicks. He did his best to hide the torrent of emotions raging inside of him when a man’s voice caught his attention.
“What do you know! Our chef has another expression besides a perma-frown.”
Mitch shook his head. He recognized the voice.
“Welcome to the world of private elementary education,” Rowen Gale continued, striding up the sidewalk with his fiancée and his niece.
Mitch nodded to the man, then took in the campus. A line of luxury cars had collected in the school’s drop-off lane as the rise and fall of children’s voices peppered the air. Charlotte and Penny embraced as Oscar scooted in closer to him and stared up at Rowen.
“You must be Oscar. I’m Rowen Gale,” the man said, then gestured to his fiancée. “That’s Penny, and the little girl with us is my niece, Phoebe. She’ll be at Whitmore with you.”
Oscar gave the man a weak nod.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Oscar,” Penny chimed, patting the boy’s shoulder. “You’re going to love this school.”
Oscar nodded again, but he didn’t look so sure. While the boy had hooted and whooped with joy as they drove to school in Say Cheese, Louise, his demeanor had shifted with the arrival of Rowen and company. And he didn’t have to be crowned parent of the year to notice that the kid was nervous. And he knew what was happening. It was starting to sink in that this was his new life, here in a new town at a new school, surrounded by new people.
He focused on his kid. “You’ve got this, Oscar.”
Oscar swallowed hard, then looked to Charlotte.
“Your dad’s right. You’re going to rock first grade in Denver,” she said, tossing the boy a sly wink.
“Phoebe, why don’t you say hello to Oscar?” Penny suggested, smoothing a lock of Phoebe’s dark hair. “It’s his first day at Whitmore. Mitch, do you know which class Oscar is in?”
He pulled one of the sheets of paper Madelyn had given him from his pocket and unfolded it. “It says he’s in Mrs. Bergen’s first-grade class. Room 104.”
“Look at that, Phoebe!” Rowen exclaimed. “Oscar will be in your class.”
The little girl didn’t say a thing. She looked from Oscar to the food truck, then pouted. “I saw you get out of that orange truck,” Phoebe said to his son as she gestured to Say Cheese, Louise.
“It’s my dad’s food truck,” Oscar answered, lifting his little chin as the boy’s hesitation melted away. He had undoubtedly inherited the Elliott gene for putting up a brave front.
Phoebe sized up her uncle with a surly expression. “Why don’t we have a food truck, Uncle Row?”
Rowen shifted his stance. “Because I’m a video game developer. We have a Lamborghini, a Land Rover, and a couple of Porsches. And don’t forget, we’ve got a super-yacht in the Caribbean and a plane,” the man answered, clearly playing defense with the pint-sized powerhouse.
Phoebe would make one hell of a chef.
He couldn’t help but enjoy watching the tech billionaire get his ass handed to him by a six-year-old.
“But we don’t have a giant awesome orange food truck,” Phoebe countered.
“No, we do not,” Rowen sputtered as Penny and Charlotte bit back grins.
The little girl turned to Oscar, and her expression brightened. “I don’t know any kids that get dropped off in a food truck. You’re going to be the coolest kid at Whitmore. Want to sit by me at lunch?” The girl glanced up at Penny and Rowen, then leaned in toward Oscar and waved him in conspiratorially. “I have a boatload of cookies in my lunchbox I can share with you. I added them when my uncle and Penny were busy getting a book off a high shelf this morning.”
Penny and Rowen turned matching shades of scarlet.
“Getting a book off a high shelf?” Charlotte asked with a crease to her brow.
