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OMG, the man was singing.
His smooth voice had her heart ready to burst.
“B is for butterscotch, C is for…” he trailed off, but she knew what should come next.
“Candy in a jar,” she sang, joining him on the edge of the bed. She smoothed a few strands of the little girl’s hair and tucked them behind her ear, then looked up and caught Landon watching her.
He devoured her with his gaze as if he were peering at forbidden fruit. Her breath caught in her throat, and she couldn’t look away. Here, in her childhood bedroom where she’d pined over the pop star, it was surreal to think that he was her husband and they were in charge of not ruining a kid—at least for the next sixty days.
“Night, Uncle Landy. Night-night, Nanny Aunt Harper.”
Nanny Aunt Harper?
That’s who she was. Aria wasn’t wrong.
She slid her gaze from Landon and concentrated on the little girl. “Sleep tight, little sack of potatoes.”
A fierce need to protect the child flowed through her veins, and a realization hit.
She needed Landon to help her win theCelebrity Bake or Bustcash, but maybe he needed her, too.
No, he did need her.
She could help Aria like her grandmother had helped her. She’d use her Bonbon Barbie skills and help his niece.
Landon stood, picked up the Scrabble box, and headed for the door. “I need to work on my music.”
Work on his music? Now?
Irritation prickled in her chest. She stroked Aria’s cheek, then followed the man into the hallway. The guy had morphed from a pop star into a speed walker. Before she could say anything, he started down the stairs. The rattling Scrabble squares and loose bonbons punctuated the sound of his hasty departure.
“I’d like to speak with you, Landon,” she said…to his back.
“I need to get my guitar. It’s still in the car,” he mumbled as he set the board game box on the kitchen table, then headed out the back door.
She wasn’t about to put up with anyone, not even her pop star husband, acting like a haughty douche nozzle.
She stood at the door and watched as he removed the instrument case from the car.
He slammed the hatch, then grumbled back into the house, turning his hardened gaze toward anything but her.
One minute, he looked at her like she made up his world, and the next, he was as cold as ice.
He went into the living room, set his case on the couch, then removed his guitar.
“I need to talk to you about Aria. I can help her.”
He looked up. “There’s nothing wrong with her,” he snarled.
This infuriating man.
“I agree,” she shot back. “I’m not saying there is.”
He strummed the guitar and frowned. “Then there’s nothing to help her with.”
Was he blind?
“You were right there, Landon. You heard Aria talk about letters and musical notes wiggling and moving on the page. You saw her read the notes when I used colored magnets. She was able to read a line of text thanks to the highlighter.”
