Page 96 of The Nanny and the Heartthrob

Chapter12

LANDON

He stared at his wife. At this rate, she was in the running to steal the title of hothead away from Mitch.

“You caused a scene in a bakery? Is there anywhere in this town where you haven’t blown a gasket?”

“I didn’t cause a scene,” she whisper-shouted. “There was no yelling or threatening of old people. But there have been bonbons. Many, many boxes of bonbons, and I’ve had to go to great lengths to get them,” she answered, looping her tote over her shoulder as he helped her out of the car.

She had to be overreacting.

“You’ve indulged in bonbons more than usual. That’s not a crime,” he replied, tightening his hold on her hand. He should have let go, but he didn’t.

And she didn’t pull away. She stayed close to him—like she had in Las Vegas.

Madelyn headed inside, and they followed a few steps behind. Harper hummed a little tune, then tightened her grip on his hand like she wanted to break it.

What went down in this place?

They entered the shop, and he inhaled the heavenly scent of sugar and chocolate. From decadent cakes piled high with pastel-colored frosting to cookies and cupcakes to the row upon row of bonbons, the confections looked almost too good to eat.

He glanced at his wife.

She hadn’t bolted or belted opera.

So far, so good…until a man at the cash register looked up and zeroed in on her. He waved to a woman carrying a tray of macarons. “It’s her! It’s the Singing Bonbon Bandit.”

Singing Bonbon Bandit? This had to be a joke.

“Oh shit,” Harper whispered.

His jaw dropped. “Did you rob this place—while singing?”

“Of course not,” she exclaimed.

“Did you raid their take-a-penny, leave-a-penny tray?” He couldn’t put it past her. He’d seen her in action at the convenience store.

“No,” she whisper-shouted, her cheeks blooming scarlet.

The guy behind the counter pointed to the piece of paper taped to the side of the register that looked a hell of a lot like a grainy surveillance photo...of Harper. He studied the image of his wife in an oversized black T-shirt holding a box of baked goods to her face.

She was chowing down like there was no tomorrow.

“What is that? The bakery version of an FBI Most Wanted poster?” he pressed.

“We had to cut her off from the bonbons, sir,” the woman behind the counter explained. “Schuman’s orders.”

“Who’s Schuman?” he asked.

This was getting crazier by the second.

“Schuman Sweet owns the bakery,” Harper murmured.

The man behind the counter crossed his arms and peered at the Singing Bonbon Bandit. “Mr. Sweet said if you came in again, you’d need a note with your grandmother’s permission to buy more bonbons.”

Holy shit!His wife had been put on bonbon probation.

“Is Mr. Sweet here?” Harper asked, nervously glancing from side to side.

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