Page 42 of My Not So Wicked Boss (My Not So Wicked 3)

“Caterpillar!” he shouted.

I noticed Miles winced but took a deep breath as if to remind himself he should get used to the noise. The sooner he got used to that the happier he would be. Kids tended to get louder the older they got. Thankfully, they did get better at controlling it.

I reached for The Very Hungry Caterpillar and handed it to Miles. Miles took the book, cracked it open and began reading in the most monotone voice known to mankind. Not even his sexy accent was saving him.

I pushed the book down and gave Miles a strained smile. “Perhaps you could put a little more life into it.”

Miles gave me a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

“You know, how the narrators for your books add inflection and emotion. Try that. Pretend like you’re doing reader’s theater.”

Miles smirked and handed me the book. “Why don’t you demonstrate?”

“You’re only trying to get out of it.”

“I assure you I’m not. I’m only trying to learn from the best.”

“Fine.” I snatched the book from him.

“Do the funny voice,” Henry requested.

“Yes, do the funny voice,” Miles taunted me.

I sat up straight, ready to rise to the challenge. I tapped Henry’s nose before I used my “funny” voice, which was ridiculously high-pitched at times or deep and low depending on the page, but Henry loved it as we read about all the foods the silly caterpillar ate until he became a big fat caterpillar.

Miles too was highly amused, smirking at me through the entire book, holding back a laugh.

When I reached the end, Henry and Miles clapped. I bowed, taking in the applause.

“Again,” Henry wished for an encore.

This time I let Miles have the honor, and this time he rose to the occasion. I might even admit he did a better job than me. Henry certainly enjoyed it and wanted to keep on enjoying it. He loved to stall during bedtime. Miles wasn’t as big of a pushover as me, so after two readings of The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Miles told Henry it was time to go to sleep. Henry looked at me to save him, but I felt like I needed to let Miles call this shot. Henry whined, but Miles was firm with him. “I need to talk to Nanny and it’s late. Time for little mates to be asleep.”

Henry pouted but didn’t argue.

I leaned down and kissed Henry’s brow. “Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams, Nanny.” Henry turned to his Uncle, waiting for him.

Miles patted his head. “Good night, Henry.”

Henry blinked at him, waiting for more. At first Miles paused, not sure what to do, but then a dawning crept across his face. “I love you, Henry.”

Henry snuggled deeper into his covers. “I love you, Uncle.”

I was beginning to see why he did.Chapter SixteenI stopped and covered my eyes before I entered Miles’s office. “Did you want to turn around your whiteboard?”

“No.”

I dropped my hand and whipped my head toward him. “Really? Are you sure?” I could hardly contain my excitement.

He swallowed hard as if he wasn’t sure, but his determined look and words said otherwise. “I’m sure. I’ve had to erase mostly everything on it. It’s looking dismal at the moment. I’m hoping you can help.”

You don’t know how disappointed that made me. I thought for sure with all the time he spent in here, he was well into the story. “How can I help?”

“Isabella isn’t speaking to me right now.”

“Um . . . do you hear voices?”

He chuckled. “All the time, well, until the last couple of days. She seems to be giving me the silent treatment after she told me my outline was a load of bollocks.”

“You talk about her like she’s real.”

“Because to me she is as real as you or I am.” He cocked his head. “You think I’m crazy?”

“Not exactly. I guess I don’t understand the writing process.” And hello, I swore I heard his dead sister talking to me, so who was I to judge?

“Let me show you.” He waved his arm out, inviting me into his office before shutting the door. I was beginning to learn he preferred closed doors.

I did my best not to run over to the white board and sit in front of it like a captivated schoolgirl. Well, what was left of it, at least. Instead, I glanced sideways at it, gleaning what I could until Miles laughed at me.

“You can look,” he gave me permission.

I wasted no time and stood right in front of it, sad I couldn’t bask in its glory liked I’d hoped, but happy to learn anything I could from what remained. Miles stood next to me to make sense of his notes for me. He pointed at the board. “It is separated into chapters, as you can see. The first grid under each chapter states the object, conflict, and emotion. After that are the characters and their connections. Then there are plot points, locations, phrases, and conversation prompts. Or at least there should be.” He sounded discouraged.

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