Page 203 of The Nanny and the Heartthrob

“We’ll stick to bonbons,” Aria replied. “You can never go wrong with those. They’re our favorite, right, Uncle Landy?”

“They sure are,” he answered as he slid his attention from Aria and set his sights on her. “They sure are.”

Hello, belly butterflies.

Crank up the air-conditioning and give this gal something to hold on to. The heat in his soulful brown eyes made her head feel as if it were filled with helium and brought back the topsy-turvy tingles dancing through her limbs and settled between her thighs.

Pull it together and focus on the kid. Jesus, this is bedtime, not bang time.

“Speaking of school,” she said, ignoring her libido, “how was your first day at Whitmore? I’m sorry I wasn’t there to pick you up.”

“That’s okay. There are plenty more days of school. My teacher said that we’ll have one hundred and ninety-two school days. Then she had us write that number, and I wrote the numbers the right way using colored pencils.”

She high-fived the wiz. “That’s amazing!”

“There was a slight hiccup,” Landon added, sharing another look with his niece.

Oh no.

“What happened?” she pressed, working to keep her voice even and leaving out the wholly inappropriatewhose ass do I need to kickquestion. The thought of some bully giving Aria trouble had her prepared to grab a pitchfork and hunt this nose picker down.

“A boy named Tucker made fun of me for making therinAriabackward.”

Tucker, you little douche nozzle, you’re going down.

“What happened after he made fun of you?” she asked instead, exercising exceptional restraint.

“Tell her, Aria,” Landon coaxed.

The child lifted her chin and sported a haughty smirk. “I didn’t punch him.”

Well, look at that.

She gifted the kid with a second high five. “I’m proud of you, Aria.”

“Oscar did,” she tossed back. The girl’s eyes glittered with a mix of pride and mischief.

Oscar Elliott punched a kid? No way.

On second thought, Oscar’s dad was a former hothead. Still, the boy was a sweetheart, through and through. The kid was an artist, passionate about his photography, and fiercely loyal to his friends.

Then again, he’d basically had hearts in his eyes when he looked at Aria.

She couldn’t deny she loved the thought of the Tuckers of this world getting a taste of their own medicine. Oscar was the son of a famous chef. If any kid had the DNA to cook up a slice of comeuppance, it was him, and there was something heartwarming about the boy sticking up for Aria. She wanted to call Char, get Oscar on the line, and tell the kid he was a total badass, but advocating violence probably wasn’t the best example. Instead, she employed a parental facade.

“Is Tucker all right?” she asked, feigning concern.

He still was a kid, albeit a real douche nozzle of a kid.

Aria waved her off. “Yeah, he’s fine. It was a love tap.”

“A love tap?”

“Uh-huh, it’s a real soft tap right in your belly. Oscar said that Sebastian’s dad, who’s a big, tough boxer, taught Sebastian how to do it. And then Sebastian taught Oscar. But Sebastian and Oscar said that they’re yoga boxers. So, after Oscar gave Tucker the love tap, he and Sebastian pressed their hands together like they were praying and said go eat hay.”

Go eat hay?

“Namaste. The boys said namaste after Oscar punched Tucker,” Landon countered, his cheeks growing rosy as he pressed his lips together, clearly working to suppress a bout of laughter.

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