Page 55 of A Nanny for the Reclusive Billionaire

Oliver shook his head, his blond bangs flopping on his forehead. “Nope.”

This one, apparently. And she thought she’d been sheltered.

“That settles it.” She pointed toward the door. “Go upstairs and get your raincoat. We’re going to the movies.”

He jumped out of his seat so fast his chair almost toppled over. “What are we going to see?”

“We’ll use my phone to figure that out on the way over.” They always had at least one G-rated movie playing, didn’t they?

“Can we get popcorn with lots of butter?”

“You bet.”

“And candy and soda?”

She tousled his hair. “The works.”

With a gap-toothed grin as wide as if it were Christmas morning and he’d discovered a pile of presents beneath the tree, Oliver sprinted out of the kitchen.

Collins grimaced. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“You worry too much.” Mallory fished her wallet out of her purse and leafed through the bills inside. Twenty, forty, sixty, and a handful of ones and fives. More than enough for an afternoon at the movies. She dropped the wallet back into her pocketbook and scanned the counter for a pen and something to write on. She settled for one of the muffin-tin crayons and the back of an envelope. “Get the boat ready. We’ll meet you at the dock in a few minutes.”

“You’re the boss.” Collins tossed his banana peel in the trash can under the sink. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Mallory scrawled a quick note to Rhys and stuck it on the refrigerator, figuring he was bound to get hungry and come searching for food at some point. Then she collected her purse and poncho, met Oliver at the bottom of the stairs, and together they headed to the dock.

Within minutes, they were safely in the back of the launch, zipping across the choppy, gray-green Atlantic with Collins at the helm. They huddled together against the wind as she called up the site for the movie theater on her cell phone browser, Oliver bouncing excitedly and chattering in her ear all the way.

“Sit still,” she warned with a hand on his shoulder, her laugh taking away some of the sting of her words. “You’ll never make it to the movies if you fall overboard and wind up as fish food.”

“Fishfood?” he asked, his eyes big as saucers. “You mean if I fell in the fish would eat me?”

“No, silly.” She’d forgotten how literal kids could be. “It’s only an expression.”

She pointed to a picture on her phone’s screen, eager for a distraction. “How about this one? It has a talking robot and a time machine.”

By the time they reached Key West, they’d agreed on the new Pixar film and arranged to meet Collins at the marina when the movie was over. She called for an Uber, and they made it to the theater in time to stock up on snacks at the concession stand and catch the last preview.

“That. Was. Awesome,” Oliver exclaimed as the credits rolled ninety minutes later. “Can we come back and see it again tomorrow?”

“Not tomorrow.” Mallory held up his rain slicker by the collar. “But sometime soon.”

“Can Dad come too?” He poked his sticklike arms through the sleeves of his jacket. “He loves robots.”

“I hope so.” She felt a pang of guilt at not including Rhys in today’s adventure. Not her choice, really. But still, he was Oliver’s father. It would have been nice if he could have been there to see his son’s face light up when the opening credits flashed bigger than life across the twenty-foot-tall screen. Maybe that was what Collins was talking about when he said Rhys wouldn’t approve. Why hadn’t she thought of that earlier?

No use beating herself up now. She’d explain it to Rhys when they returned home. Hopefully over dinner, if he could make time to join them. She’d asked Collins to pick up some fresh mahi-mahi she could grill and serve with her signature mango-lime salsa. That should tempt Rhys out of his cave.

She slipped her poncho over her head and bent to retrieve her purse from under her seat. “We’d better get moving. We don’t want to keep Collins waiting.”

The ride back to Flamingo Key was quiet. Oliver’s eyelids started drooping the second his life jacket was fastened. Before they hit open water, his eyes had closed, and his head lolled against her shoulder. When they reached the island and the boat was secured, Mallory handed the still-sleeping Oliver over to Collins, who carried him to the house. She grabbed her purse and the insulated bag with the mahi-mahi and scrambled out after them, hurrying to catch up.

“Can you take him to his room?” she asked, keeping her voice low so she wouldn’t wake Oliver as she opened the sliding glass door leading from the patio into the house. “He’s exhausted. He can nap before dinner.”

“Yes, Collins,” Rhys drawled from an overstuffed chair in the corner. His words may have been directed at his assistant, but his eyes never left Mallory. The note she’d tacked to the refrigerator was crumpled in one hand, a drink in the other. “That’s an excellent suggestion. Take Oliver to his room. Miss Worthington and I need to talk.”

…