A Nanny Under the Mistletoe: A Nanny Under the Mistletoe / Single Father, Surprise Prince!. Teresa Southwick
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“It’s been a while.” Something darkened in his eyes. “But, yes, I have.”
“The amount you consumed was pretty amazing.”
“Did Morgan notice?”
“That you were shoving record-breaking amounts of food in your mouth to redeem yourself for dumping on her favorite meal?”
“Yeah. That.”
“No.”
“Just so we’re clear, I wasn’t dumping on her choice. That was humor.”
“She’s five.” Libby gave him a wry look. “She doesn’t know world-renowned, repertoire or chef.”
“I got that.” He folded his arms over his chest as he stared out the window.
“Complimenting her artwork was a nice save.”
“Oh, please.” Now his look was wry. “It was pathetic and you know it.”
“What I know,” she said, feeling sorry for him in spite of herself, “is that you didn’t have a meltdown when you noticed a magnet on the expensive stainless-steel front of your refrigerator.”
“Don’t think it didn’t cross my mind,” he answered.
Libby laughed, but it didn’t lighten her mood. She wasn’t here to worship at the altar of Jess Donnelly and be seduced by his charm and self-deprecating humor.
“But you held back.”
“I would have made a joke about it but I was afraid she’d think I wanted her drawn and quartered at dawn.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Only a little.” He blew out a long breath. “It probably didn’t escape your notice that I’m not very good at kid talk.”
“No? Really?” she said in mock surprise. “I swear I was planning to get out the duct tape to shut you up.”
The corners of his mouth curved up slightly. “In my own defense, it has to be said that I spend my days in meetings about budgets, building materials and stock market shares. Until a week ago I didn’t have to know about nightlights, green pumpkins or trying something I don’t like.”
Libby didn’t want to sympathize with what he was going through and worked hard to suppress it. He’d agreed to be Morgan’s guardian should anything happen to her parents. The argument that no one expected they wouldn’t come home didn’t fly with her. For God’s sake, they’d gone halfway around the world to a place where bad, life-threatening things happened much more frequently than here in the States.
Jess could have taken the time to get to know Morgan. He could have made the effort to fill his friend’s shoes and make the absence of a little girl’s father a little easier for her. But he hadn’t done that.
He was doing the right thing now and got points for that, but no sympathy for the fact that talking to a little girl, a virtual stranger, wasn’t easy. Still, for Morgan’s sake, she decided to help him out. Be a bridge.
Libby blew out a breath. “Kid talk takes practice, just like any other language. Ask her questions.”
“Like?”
“What’s her favorite color?”
“Pink,” he answered. “Sometimes purple, better known as lavender.”
Would wonders never cease? He’d actually listened that day they’d first arrived. “So ask things you don’t know. Such as what she did at school.”
“You covered that,” he reminded her.
“I found out she made a pumpkin. A good question would be why that, as opposed to a ghost or pirate.”
“I just figured it best captured Halloween.” He shrugged.
“Of course, but asking shows that you’re interested and could get her talking. Which brings to mind an obvious question.”
“Obvious to who?”
“Everyone.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Libby. I have no idea what to say to her next.”
“I keep forgetting you don’t live in the real world.” She sighed. “You do know that Halloween is when kids dress up in costumes and go trick-or-treating for candy?”
It took several moments before the “aha” light came on in his eyes. “So the question is—what does she want to be for Halloween?”
Libby smiled. “Give the man a prize.”
“Even though the man doesn’t deserve it?”
He sounded sincere. Like he didn’t believe getting a clue was anything to be proud of. And she had to agree with him. It wasn’t a big deal. But the fact that this being-out-of-his-comfort-zone side to Jess was something that she’d never seen before did land squarely in big-deal territory. It could make him sympathy-worthy and she couldn’t afford to feel that way. She wasn’t here to stroke his ego, but as Morgan’s advocate. It was time to bring up the subject she’d come here to discuss with him.
“I just tucked her into bed and we were talking about something—”
Alarm jumped into his eyes. “The fact you’re here means she had something on her mind.”
“I see you’ve gone to the bad place where you’re expected to eat fish sticks as well as chicken nuggets every night for the rest of your life.” She smiled. “Don’t worry. It’s not about that.” His confused male look was so astonishingly cute that there was a definite tug on her heart. “She remembered that you said you would think about making changes to her room.”
“Oh.” He relaxed. “Okay.”
“Letting Morgan put her personality stamp on her own space might help her to niche in with you.”
He steepled his fingers and tapped them against his mouth. “I have no objection to that.”
“Good. So, let’s figure out when you can take her shopping.”
He shook his head. “I don’t need to approve her taste. Just let her pick out whatever she wants and send the bills to me.”
It was like he’d pulled down a shield to hide the vulnerability she’d seen just moments before, when he worried about how to talk to a little girl. What was up with that?
“Shopping with Morgan is a good way to know her and build up a collection of conversational questions,” Libby pointed out.
“I’ll pass.”
“Don’t you want to be a part of picking things out?”
“It’s not necessary.”
“No one said it was. But to continue our discussion of a little while ago, it’s a way to break the ice. Which you were just wondering how to do. Because she lives with you now. You’re her family.”
“No.”
“Excuse me, you’re her guardian.”
“And as such I will make sure she has everything she ever needs, but don’t call it family because I don’t know how a family is supposed to behave.” He met her gaze and there were shadows in his own.
“Ben and Charity believed otherwise or you wouldn’t be Morgan’s guardian.”
“A past like mine makes their judgment questionable.”
“What happened to you?” she asked.
“My father died when I was a boy. A little older than Morgan.”
“I’m sorry,” she said automatically.
“Don’t