Page 98 of The Nanny and the Hothead
The Dagbys were quite a pair. Decades ago, they’d owned a wildly successful restaurant downtown. But they sold it to open the Helping Hands Shelter and Community Center. Ralph, with his mellow vibe, and Louise, with her gruff, do-it-right or get-out-of-my-kitchen persona, fascinated him. But the one thing the couple did seem to have in common, besides their commitment to each other, was a fierce dedication to helping the community. They’d prided themselves on giving second chances to teens, young adults, and people with special needs who’d run out of options.
Teenagers like him.
Charlotte twisted her camera bag’s strap. “I’m Charlotte Ames. It’s nice to meet you both. And I can assure you that I’m not in need of urgent psychiatric services at the moment.”
Oh, sweet Jesus!
He caught Charlotte’s eye as she cringed, embarrassment burning her cheeks. Playfully, he grimaced right back.And holy shit!A heady exhilaration pulsed through his veins as the apprehension in her expression faded, and a touch of amusement twinkled in her eyes. He knew this feeling. He understood the powerful pull that came with knowing that comfort could be channeled through the slightest of movements with just a glance or the hint of a smile. It was an intimate exchange, something he hadn’t experienced in ages.
“I like her, Mitch,” Ralph said, warm grin in place, before a curious look overtook his features as he turned to Charlotte. “Was it Mitch?”
“I’m not sure what you mean?” Charlotte replied.
“The text you mentioned when I found you on that bench. Was Mitch the fella who you hoped had texted? How long had you been waiting to hear back? I think you said six days. Is that right?” Ralph probed.
Charlotte looked from the Dagbys to him, her cheeks growing pink again. “No, it wasn’t Mitch. And the text didn’t turn out to be from who I was hoping it would be. But that might have been a blessing in disguise.” She swallowed hard. “But that’s not important. I’m here because I work for Mitch now. He’s just my boss.”
Just my boss?
Why did that hurt?
He schooled his features. This was not the time to untangle his feelings for the nanny. “Charlotte is helping care for my son. She’s also going to assist with orders while I’m cooking. Plus, she’ll be taking some pictures to document the reboot of Say Cheese, Louise for a book I’m working on.”
“That’s a lot on your plate, Charlotte,” Ralph commented, then shared a curious look with Louise.
“I’m happy to help however I can,” she replied and resumed twisting the strap of her camera bag.
“You’re a photographer?” Ralph continued.
Charlotte brightened. “Yes, that’s what I studied in college.”
Ralph gestured toward a large mural of the Helping Hands logo. He knew it well—a heart created with multicolored handprints, painted in bright colors on the side of a neighboring building. “Have you been to this part of town recently? It might be right up your alley. It’s become an artists’ enclave.”
“I noticed a few galleries on the drive over,” Charlotte answered, excitement woven into her words. “One of my professors from school mentioned that galleries were opening in a new part of town. She must have meant here. Do we have time to look around?”
“Do we have time to look around, Mitchell?” Louise echoed, raising an eyebrow.
“Hold on,” he answered, then checked his watch. It was two minutes to ten a.m.
“You’ve trained him well, Louise,” Ralph said through a chuckle, then shared another suspicious look with his wife.
Something was going on.
It might have been a while since he’d spent time with the Dagbys, but he knew this pair well enough to know when they had something up their sleeves.
“I assume you still start serving lunch at ten fifteen. I don’t want to get a late start,” he answered.
“You would be correct,” Louise confirmed.
Charlotte cocked her head to the side. “Why so early?”
Louise released a heavy sigh. The woman might be a badass on the outside, but she was a softie at heart. “Because most of the people who come here for a meal don’t have the luxury of eating breakfast,” she explained.
“The shelter guests get three squares a day, but for various reasons, people who live on the streets don’t always have consistent access to food. We do our best to help,” Ralph explained, then played another round of catching his wife’s eye. “But we’ve got a little time. Why don’t I take Charlotte around the building and tell her a little bit about what we do here? I can point out a gallery or two along the way.”
“I’d love that,” Charlotte gushed. “Would you mind if I took a few pictures of the community center and the neighborhood for Mitch’s book?”
“Not at all,” the man answered.
