Free The Nanny with the Skull Tattoos by Elizabeth Barone Page B

shelf.
    “I’m sort of on a hiatus from family stuff,” she said, rolling up her sleeves.
    “It wouldn’t be your charming personality, would it?” he teased.
    “Oh, papi , I can show you charming.” She cupped two eggs in her hand, arching an eyebrow at him.
    Heat blazed through Max’s cheeks. He cleared his throat. “Seriously, though,” he said, as he measured coffee grounds with a spoon. His hands shook. “Why aren’t you going to be with your family tomorrow?”
    “We don’t exactly see eye to eye.” Savannah turned her back to him. She cracked an egg and split it open. Yolk oozed from it. She poured the egg into the bowl.
    Max turned on the coffee maker. As it gurgled to life, he leaned against the counter. “So what? It’s Christmas.”
    She shrugged. “It’s just another day.” Grabbing a spoon from the drawer, she began mixing the ingredients in the bowl. “So,” she said in a tone that suggested she was about to change the subject, and that he should go along with it. “Are you all set for tomorrow morning?”
    Brown liquid dripped into the coffee pot, the burner sizzling. Max ran a hand through his hair. “Tomorrow morning?” he repeated.
    “You know,” she said, lowering her voice. “Santa.”
    “Oh,” he said, forcing a smile. “Yeah, that. Totally.” He crossed his arms.
    “Do you need help wrapping anything?” she asked as she put a frying pan on the stove.
    “Why would I need help wrapping?” Max asked. “Do you think that I can’t wrap, just because I’m a guy?”
    Savannah laughed. “I know you can’t, papi .”
    “Well, you would totally be right,” he said, “if I had anything to wrap.” He sighed.
    As the pan on the stove heated, Savannah turned to face him. “You didn’t get her anything?” Her brown eyes were large and round.
    He shook his head. “I paid all the bills and everything, but I didn’t put any other money aside.”
    She frowned. “ Bendito ,” she said. “You’re such a good dad.” Turning back to the stove, she added, “I’m going to help you.”
    Max laughed. “Oh really? On Christmas Eve? With your millions?”
    She turned, waving a spatula at him. “Do not underestimate the shopping power of a woman,” she said.
    “Oh, I’d never do anything that stupid,” he said, “but I can’t let you do that.”
    Snorting, she swatted at him with the spatula. “You do not get to tell me what to do with my money. I’m going to help you.”
    Max sighed. “I feel so bad for the guy you marry,” he muttered.
    “¿ Que ?” She swung at him again, the spatula connecting lightly with his arm.
    Holding up his hands, he jumped back. “Nothing,” he said. “I’m just saying.” The coffee pot sizzled, clicked one final time, then went silent. He grabbed two mugs out of the drying rack and filled them both.
    “That’s the Folgers, right?” she asked, both eyebrows lifted.
    Max nodded. “I learned my lesson.” He handed her a mug, and she clinked hers against his.
    “So, here’s the plan. After breakfast, I’ll go shopping. Later on, when Chloe goes to bed, we can wrap and set up. Sound good?” She took a sip of her coffee.
    “You really don’t need to do this,” he said.
    “I want to.” Savannah set her mug down and returned to the pancakes.
    “Don’t you have to shop for your own family?” he asked, studying her.
    She shook her head. “You guys are the closest thing I’ve got to a family right now.”
    Setting his coffee on the table, Max pulled a chair out. “I’m sure your family really wants to see you.”
    “Please don’t make assumptions about me,” she said.
    He held his hands up. “Look, as the Batista family fuckup, I know a little about these things. Just because you dropped out of school, it doesn’t mean they don’t love you. Sometimes parents think their kids need tough love.” He took another sip of coffee. “Chloe used to mess around near the stove all the time. I kept telling her to get away