Page 183 of The Nanny and the Heartthrob

He nodded to the guy, then pulled into the parking space and cut the engine. He swiveled in his seat to check on his strangely silent wife. “Harper, we’re here.”

As if she were channeling a Tibetan monk, his wife sat with her hands folded in her lap and her eyes closed.

“Are you awake?”

She opened her eyes. “I am, and I see everything.” Flecks of gold glinted in her chameleon gaze. “Landon?” she continued, her voice quietly commanding.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be afraid to let people see the real you, the whole you, the complete Landon Bartholomew Paige.”

Where the hell did that come from?

A scintillating tingle ran down his spine as if she were communicating with his soul.

He stared into her pools of hazel.

Was it even possible for him to comply with her altered-state declaration?

Could he let people see him, flaws and all?

Hell no.

She was high, and that was simply more crazy shroom talk.

He shook off the sensation. “We need to go inside that building. Can you walk?”

She fluttered her fingers. “I feel like I can fly.”

He released a tight breath. “Let’s focus on walking.”

He exited the car and helped her out as Schuman joined them.

He waved the older man in. “Is this normal?” he asked and nodded toward his unusually meditative wife. She’d gone from licking seat belts, conversing with her hands, and requesting edible ball sacs to rocking a Jedi vibe.

“Some people become introspective after they ingest Tanner’s lollipops,” the man replied when his beanie-wearing nephew raced toward them.

What was this dude up to?

“What are you doing here, Tanner? You went to check on…” Mr. Sweet said, then tossed a pensive look his way.

“I did,” Tanner answered. “It’s all good on the Mary Jane front.”

Mary Jane, like pot?

The dude did say he dabbled in agricultural endeavors, and it was legal in Colorado.

Tanner turned to him. “Dude, I caught part of the livestream. Did your wife sample the lollipops?”

Before he could answer, Harper reached up and patted Tanner’s cheek. “In a world of take a penny, leave a penny, you’re a silver dollar.”

“That answers my question,” Tanner replied as Harper traced his face with her fingertips.

If she kept talking like that, they were screwed.

He removed Harper’s hands from the man’s face.

“Your hands are warm,” she said like she was imparting the information to defuse a ticking time bomb. “Mine are cold like lemons.”

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