Page 110 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
He lifted it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I’ve decided to continue my meditative practice there. I must say, I could feel your energy at the base of the mountain.”
“Really?” she shot back.
Doug studied her palm. “I first connected with you when I saw the viral video of your training session with Erasmus Cress. Oh, hey, dude,” Doug said with a nod to Raz.
“Did you?” she asked, then glanced at Raz. The man looked ready to tear Zen Dougie apart. She heard a low-pitched growl, but neither Raz nor Beefcake, the donkey, were the source of the sound. She turned to her left. Sebastian stood next to her with his arms crossed as he sized up the donkey whisperer.
What had gotten into the kid?
“Truly mystical stuff,” Doug continued, seemingly oblivious that a man whose fists were most likely considered deadly weapons, along with a pretty pissed-off six-year-old, were shooting eye daggers at him. “I felt the vibration of our connection through my phone. That’s some cutting-edge energy, Libby. From one yogi to another, I must say, I’m impressed.”
She gently removed her hand from Zen Dougie’s grip. “Thank you, Doug,” she stammered. “My approach isn’t conventional, but there are many ways to balance chakras and clear the subconscious mind for optimal performance.”
There! At least she was able to put together a little yoga babble.
“So true,” the donkey whisperer agreed. “You’re here for the summer, right?”
“Yes,” she began, gesturing to Raz and Sebastian. Both father and son had the same scowl glued to their faces. “We’re here to compete in the Ass-in-Nine and for Erasmus to train for his upcoming fight.”
Doug nodded, then peered at her left hand. “You coach him in the ring, but you’re not wearing one.”
“Wait, what?” she stuttered as another round of Sebastian’s growls peppered the air.
“You two aren’t together?” Doug asked, nodding to Raz. “I thought I sensed something between you guys on that video.”
She glanced over her shoulder at her beefcake, who raised an eyebrow in response.
What was that supposed to mean? Was that a challenge? Was he angry? She couldn’t read the infuriating man.
“I’m his nanny, his spiritual advisor, and…”
And the woman who rode his cock like a dirty cowgirl on their first night together and the gal who was sporting a hickey and had kissed the guy into oblivion in a blue-violet sex haze, but she wasn’t about to mention that.
“We should meditate together,” the man mused. “We can watch the sunset on the Rickety Rock lookout, then meditate during the sunrise.”
Sweet Buddha’s belly!
Was Zen Dougie hitting on her?
Was he insinuating sleeping together with his family and two scowling Brits ten feet away?
“Libby meditates with me, boyo,” Sebastian snarled.
Hello, Cress family resemblance.
She zeroed in on the pint-sized badass.
“Hear this, Dougie,” the boy called. “Libby is her own woman, making her own choices, and she chooses to meditate with me,” Sebastian added, laying down the law like a mini beast.
She glanced at Raz, expecting the man to say something. Instead, the big beast remained silent as that maddeningly sexy smirk—the arrogant expression that had wrecked her chi, highjacked her O, and could entice her to rip off his clothes—graced his lips.
“I see,” Doug answered warily, taking an unsteady step away from her.
“And for your information, Doug,” Sebastian continued, clearly not finished laying down the law. “My friend Oscar has a Charlotte. He calls hermy Charlotte, and now I have a Libby.My LibbyorMibby. She’s my Mibby, boyo, you got that?” the boy finished, losing his prim British cadence and taking on his father’s grittier accent.
Wide-eyed, Libby stared at the kid. That was quite a mouthful, and the wholeMibbybusiness was new to her. When had he come up with it? Then again, she manufactured Pun-chi yoga out of thin air. Who was she to judge anyone for coming up with something slightly insane on the fly? And she had to admit, she quite liked theMibbymoniker. She hadn’t been with Erasmus and Sebastian for a month, and they’d each already given her a nickname. A warmth filled her chest, but as she was about to let this feeling swallow her whole, it receded as quickly as it had risen.
Plum and Mibby might be charming names, but they had a shelf life. A shelf life that expired in a matter of weeks.
