Alien Pilot Needs a Nanny (Alien Nanny Agency 2)

“Oh,” Bo said in a surprised way as the blue and red swirled together.

“Now if you want a pinker purple, you can add more red,” the girl told her. “Or more blue if you want it bluer. And if you want a lighter purple, you can add white. Then it can be just the right purple for you.”

“I want to do it,” Bo demanded imperiously.

The nanny handed off the container and brush she was using.

Khall expected her to grab her bag and head off with him, since she had just bought herself a few minutes of peace.

But instead of beating a quick retreat, she leaned in to talk with Bo a little more.

“Bolynne, you can mix paints, but not all of them,” she said. “Can I show you a few more things before you get started?”

Bo looked up at her, curiosity winning out over the suspicion in her dark eyes. “Okay.”

“You have beautiful paints, and we don’t want to ruin them,” the girl said. “So, you should know you can only mix certain combinations.”

“Why?” Bo demanded.

“If you mix them all together it will just turn into kind of a brownish color,” the girl explained. “Like a stew. But if you want colors from the rainbow, you can mix blue and red, or you can mix yellow and red, or blue and yellow. Only these three, and only two at a time.”

Bo watched as the nanny set aside the three primary colors.

“What colors will they make?” she asked.

“Don’t you want to be surprised?” the girl replied, sounding a little scandalized.

Bo’s eyes lit up. She did like surprises.

“Who are you anyway?” Bo asked.

“I’m April,” she said. “I’ll be taking care of you when your dad can’t be here.”

Bo chewed on that idea for a minute. Khall swore he could see the gears turning in her head.

“You’re not like the other ones,” she decided, turning her attention back to mixing her paints.

April nodded once, not asking any follow-up questions.

They watched as Bo dipped her purple paint brush and began painting grass again.

“I have to show April her room,” Khall told her. “Okay?”

Bo only frowned and leaned in closer to her painting.

“Come on,” he said gently.

April bent to grab her bag and straightened, glancing up at him as if to invite him to lead the way.

But when their eyes met, he got that feeling again, the same one he’d had in the kitchen, as if he could taste her loneliness and desire.

But she was young and beautiful. He was obviously just projecting his own issues onto her.

Maybe the years apart from female company were wearing on him at last.

“Your name is April?” he said politely, wrenching his eyes from hers as he headed back into the hall.

“Yes, Mr. Rivvor,” she said in that same low, gentle tone.