Page 115 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
But he wasn’t about to cop to it.
“Plum, like I said, I have a lot on my—”
“You have a lot on your mind, blah, blah, blah. I’m the fancy boxer Erasmus Cress, blah, blah, blah,” she interrupted, prancing from foot to foot like a nimble jaguar to avoid a slick spot in the center of the trail.
“It’s the truth,” he answered, sounding like a surly schoolboy.
“You sure seem to have room in that beefcake brain of yours to obsess over Doug.”
“So, you do like him?”
She glared up at him. “I don’t dislike him.”
He ran his hand through his hair, swiping back the errant dripping locks as the trail curved around a sharp bend. They pushed past a cluster of evergreens, and the needles scratched his forearm as he lifted a low branch for Libby. As if they’d been tandem running for ages. She buzzed under his arm, then leaped over a trio of large roots crossing the length of the trail.
He needed a zinger worthy of the most beefcakey of the beefcakes. He copied her jump and ran alongside her as the path widened and a whopper of a retort shot out of his big mouth. “Dougie should be your final Mr. Benchmark screw.”
Bloody hell! What had he unleashed?
“My what?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. There was no going back now.
“The guy you pick to see if some random bloke can get you off,” he tossed back and shit. In a grand effort to be an asshole, he’d bloody cut off his nose to spite his face. The thought of Zen Dougie laying a hand on her had his blood boiling. Surely, she’d tell him he was crazy.
Her posture stiffened as she flitted across a series of flat rocks. “That’s not a bad idea. Maybe Doug should be the final benchmark test subject. You’re already planning to get rid of me. What would you care?”
Yes, he was an arrogant, selfish ass, but he’d never mentioned sacking her.
“What are you talking about?”
“Briggs said I should go into PR after you’re done with me as your spiritual advisor and Sebastian’s nanny. I assumed he’s got a plan for us parting ways. Am I right?”
He could feel the heat coming off her, or perhaps it was the frantic energy they created when their emotions ran hot—when he didn’t know if he should kiss her into oblivion or work out his frustration on the heavy bag, punching until his knuckles bled and his mind emptied of all things Libby Lamb.
“Briggs plans for everything. It’s his job.”
She stopped, standing on a large rock protruding from the side of the trail where the route broke off into two pathways. A slim stack of rocks was piled next to her as she pegged him with her fiery amber gaze.
He concentrated on the stones—the marker of the right path.
Too bad that didn’t translate into real life.
He didn’t know what the right path was supposed to be—only that he had to walk it alone.
“It’s settled,” she bit out. “Doug will be the benchmark guy. I’ll wait until after the Ass-in-Nine race to seduce him. He said he’s leaving for Tibet at the end of the summer. It’ll be a one and done.”
Was she serious?
Then again, this was entirely his fault. He’d offered up the flowing-haired yoga plonker.
He hardened his features. “Sounds like you have a plan.”
“I certainly do,” she shot back with the tiniest shake to her voice. It was subtle, but he caught it. Unable to reply, he stared at her as the rain cascaded down her cheeks. Her long wet hair hung past her shoulders in tangled waves. With the blustery sky and the rich greenery glinting in the rain, it was like staring at a woodland nymph. She parted her lips, and he couldn’t help but hope she’d take it back. It made no sense—knowing he couldn’t have her but not wanting her with anyone else was selfish and utter madness. Nonetheless, he wanted, no, needed her to reject the yoga cowboy.
Say you don’t want anyone else.
Say you don’t want to sleep with Zen Dougie.
