Page 90 of The Nanny and the Hothead
“It was way up there and took quite a bit of effort and time to get it,” Penny answered, sharing a panicky look with Rowen. It was the kind of exchange that spoke volumes. God only knew what Rowen and Penny were doing! But he was damned sure it didn’t have anything to do with procuring reading material.
Still, while this was the sort of relationship bullshit that used to make him cringe, it didn’t grate on him. In fact, he found it entertaining. He glanced at Charlotte. Her gaze flitted over the group before she caught his eye and nodded. A barely perceptible move, but he got the message. Oscar was going to be okay. His son had made a friend.
“I can trade you for the cookies. My dad packed a special grilled cheese sandwich for me. He’s a chef. I’ll give you half,” Oscar announced, holding up his lunchbox like a prizefighter.
“Wow! You have a food truck, and your dad is a chef? That’s…” Phoebe tapped her foot twice.
And, oh shit! He forgot that these people were into secret code foot tapping.
Oscar frowned. “Did you taphot-heador something else?”
Phoebe gasped, wide-eyed. “I tappedawe-some. How do you know about the taps?”
“Charlotte showed me,” Oscar replied with a nonchalant shrug.
“When I get mad, two taps mean butt—” Phoebe began, but Rowen cleared his throat, cutting off the child’s explanation.
“We don’t say that word out loud, Phoebe,” the man chided as his niece rolled her eyes.
And again, watching this sassy little thing take Rowen to task proved to be excellent entertainment.
“In my house, the two taps stand forhot-head.” Oscar explained, then tapped his foot twice. “That’s what Charlotte calls my dad. But he’s not really a hothead anymore. I can’t even remember the last time he got all red-faced and grouchy,” the boy finished, scratching his chin.
The adults chuckled, and Charlotte caught his eye. The connection was there. It was like they were in this child-care quagmire together.
“I see feet tapping. What’s the big secret?” came a woman’s teasing voice.
“Hi, Harper! Hi, Libby!” Phoebe cried as two women joined them.
He recognized them from when he, along with Landon Paige and Erasmus Cress, had helped Rowen with his insane plan to win back Penny. Rowen had mentioned that the foursome had been friends since kindergarten and basically finished each other’s sentences. But something was clearly up with the new arrivals. For starters, donning a wide-brimmed hat, sunglasses, and a scarf that nearly covered her entire face, Harper looked like a starlet going for incognito. Then there was the petite raven-haired Libby. Every other time he’d seen her, she’d seemed pretty mellow. But today, she twitched as if she’d inhaled a few gallons of triple espresso for breakfast.
“What are you two doing here?” Charlotte asked, glancing between the newcomers. “And why are you dressed like you’re going undercover, H?”
Harper peeked out from beneath the dark glasses. “First of all, it’s nice to see that you aren’t on the back of a milk carton, Char.”
Charlotte tossed him a quick look, then cringed.
After the phone call on the side of the road with Penny and Rowen, he should have guessed that Charlotte’s friends would know about the kidnapping confusion.
“Seriously, Harper, what’s going on? You look like the definition of stranger danger,” Penny pressed.
“The disguise is necessary. A few of my piano students go to school here. And the last thing I need is to be recognized by one of their parents and get pulled into a convo aboutChop Sticksor little Bobby’s prospects for getting into Juilliard.”
“And are you okay, Libby?” Charlotte asked, concern marring her features.
“I’m peachy,” the woman shrieked, conveying the polar opposite of peachy.
“Are you sure?” Charlotte pressed.
He was wondering the same thing. The chick looked ready to snap. And he knew a thing, or twenty, about that.
“Libbs, honey, Charlotte is right. You don’t look as zen-tastic as you usually do,” Penny added.
Harper patted the tiny, vibrating woman’s shoulder. “Our yoga teacher extraordinaire is having a day.”
This lady taught yoga?
Libby’s forced grin stretched from deranged prom queen to possible serial killer. “My chi is a little out of whack thanks to a beefcake in the private gym next to the yoga studio. The guy kept dropping zillion-pound barbels while I taught a restorative yoga class. And news flash, there’s nothing restorative about incessant banging and clanging,” the raven-haired woman answered through gritted teeth.
