Page 209 of The Nanny and the Heartthrob

She closed her LookyLoo page and clicked on the file.

“I finished three songs, and they’re pretty damn good. I recorded a rough cut for Mitzi and sent it to her to take a listen. For one, I used the melody you hummed when I was baking the cookies.”

That had to be the song in her head when she’d pictured Candy Land. Had she been humming it?

Forget the psychedelic Candy Land trip. Landon had pulled together three songs.

That was freaking huge.

Her jaw dropped. “You taught a music lesson and wrote three complete songs while I was asleep?”

Landon channeled his smirking niece, mirroring her haughty disposition. “And I picked up Aria from school, and I made dinner, and I did bath time, and—”

“And…I get it,” she deadpanned. “You’re a super uncle.”

She couldn’t let the man get too big for his britches. It wasn’t like she’d spent the day intentionally slacking off, eating bonbons in bed, and watching trash TV. No, she’d spent it—accidentally—high as a kite.

“I took the lyrics and melodies we’ve worked on, played around with them on blank sheet music pages, then scanned in the sheets and added the lyrics using the OpenDyslexic font.”

“That’s amazing,” she breathed, scrolling down the page. He’d color-coded each section. The intro was gray, and the verses were light blue. He’d made the chorus a light brown, the bridge was gold, and the outro was dark green.

“After watching you perform, it inspired me to give it a go. I figured out a system, thanks to that special font and messing with highlighters and different colored markers.”

“Why did you choose those colors?” she asked, eyes glued to the screen as she read the lyrics—the damned good lyrics—and followed along, seeing the guitar and piano notes in her head.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked.

She looked up, and the man nearly swallowed her with his gaze. He took the laptop and set it aside.

Her heartbeat quickened. “No, it’s not obvious. Am I missing something?”

He slipped his cell from his pocket, then handed it to her. She stared down at his phone in selfie camera mode.

Why did he do that?

She cocked her head to the side. “You want me to take my picture?”

“I want you to look at yourself and tell me what you see.”

She chewed her lip. What was he playing at? “Landon, I—”

“Just do it, bonbon,” he coaxed in his velvet voice.

How could she say no with him calling her bonbon and looking at her like he wanted to devour her like a box of Mr. Sweet’s chocolates?

She held up the phone and was met with messy chocolate waves, smudged mascara, and cheeks dusted with freckles. She stared at herself, at this woman who’d become a nanny-aunt, a wife, and maybe, a singer and songwriter.

Could that dream become a reality?

Or was she still the girl people left behind?

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “What am I supposed to see?”

“Blues, toffee browns, steel grays, and shimmering gold. The mix of hues that darken and lighten with your mood. Blues and grays so faint, they mirror the sky after a storm, seconds before the golden sun peeks through the clouds. Warm shades of cinnamon, cocoa, and maple so rich a man could drown in the depths. And a dash of green like spring flowers pushing through a blanket of snow. I want you to see your chameleon eyes—the eyes I haven’t been able to get out of my head for months.”

She stared, transfixed.

How could he see all that?

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