Page 124 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
“Yeah, you must have impressed Aug with your demonstration.”
She bit her lip, still focused on the screen. “Or he feels like he has to add it because I shared it with the press.”
“Aug’s not like that. Not when it comes to training. If it’s on the sheet, it’s because he believes it’s exactly what I need to do to win. It means he trusts you with my training.”
That curious glint in her amber eyes returned. “It’s amazing to think that my idea is part of anyone’s training protocol. It’s ironic, actually,” she answered, sinking to sit on the bottom step.
“How so?” he pressed, joining her.
There was an oddly lovely equilibrium between his large, muscled legs next to her toned, smooth ones. They’d had to change their clothing after the rain-soaked donkey adventure. He’d slipped on a pair of mesh athletic shorts and a T-shirt. She’d done the same—well, the ladies’ version. Sebastian had taken it upon himself to assign them their rooms, and Libby had emerged from the bird-inspired blue and violet bedroom in a pair of fitted runner’s shorts and a simple white tank top.
He relaxed onto the step, taking comfort in her company. There was something calming about sitting on the staircase. It held a purgatory-like quality as if anyone who remained on them existed in a middle ground, a neutral plane. Sitting there with Libby, he didn’t have to decide if they were coming or going. They were simply together, and he liked it, liked the relief of not having to prepare for what came next.
She returned the mobile to him, then leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. They sat for a spell before she spoke. “Remember that day—the day with the gong and the vibrators?” she asked, then leaned back and pretended to throw an invisible sex toy at his head as the rosy hue returned to her cheeks.
He played along and dodged the make-believe dildo. “It’s safe to say I will never forget that day.”
She angled her body toward him. “I was supposed to pitch my fitness business concept to a venture capitalist group.”
“The fake meeting? The guys who were doing it for kicks to meet girls, right?”
She’d mentioned it before. And like then, he had the urge to seek out those wankers and throw a few well-placed punches straight to their guts.
She nodded. “Yeah, that’s the one.”
“What made you think of that?”
She played with one of the green beads on her bracelet. “The plan I’d put together was solid but not unique. As crazy as it sounds, Pun-chi yoga is a remarkably effective way to build more strength and cardio into a typical yoga practice. And kids love it. Well, I’m not sure if every kid does, but your son enjoys it.”
He leaned in but didn’t speak, giving her room to continue, which was odd for him. Anytime the topic of Sebastian and boxing came up, he usually bristled. But this time, he didn’t.
“Sebastian likes pairing yoga and boxing moves,” Libby explained. “It happened by chance the first time he asked me to show him how yoga worked.”
“He asked you how to do yoga?” He’d never pictured the lad barefoot on a mat. Then again, he didn’t know the boy that well. Whenever this fact was thrown in his face, he’d close himself off and disengage. But again, like with the boxing comment, he didn’t. Listening to Libby talk about Sebastian didn’t feel like a vice tightening around his heart. It was the opposite reaction. It was as if his heart expanded in his chest with her every word.
A warm, knowing grin bloomed on her lips. “Sebastian’s curious like that, and it’s like he’s built for both yoga and boxing. He’s got extraordinary balance and physical strength for someone his age. I’d bet you were the same way as a kid.”
He was. Athletics had come easily to him.
“It’s funny,” she continued. “I thought the day I confronted you at the gym would go down as one of the worst days of my life. Instead…” she trailed off and peered over her shoulder at the door that led to Sebastian’s third-floor bedroom, and there was no second-guessing what she was thinking about. “He’s a terrific kid, Raz,” she added softly.
A slip of silence sealed them in the safety of the staircase. They sat together, two people pausing on a step. He shifted slightly, and his knee grazed hers, changing the energy. He sensed her tense in response to his touch. She was about to stand and bring their impromptu stair conversation to a close. He could feel it, but he wasn’t ready to leave this perfect purgatory.
“What made you want to be a yoga teacher?” he blurted like a bloody BBC reporter.
She watched him for a beat, then released a slow breath, her shoulders lowering and her body relaxing again as she settled in on her half of the step. She gave him the saddest smile. “My mom.”
“Was she a yoga teacher?”
He’d used the past tense, remembering the other tidbit Briggs had rattled off.
Libby’s mum, Aurora Lamb, was deceased.
“No, she was a librarian. She stopped working after my brothers were born. She passed away from cancer when I was thirteen.”
“I’m sorry.” Death was another topic he avoided, but the power of this place softened the blow. Usually, the mention of death brought him face-to-face with the ghosts of his past. But tonight, he wasn’t as burdened by his, and more than anything, he wanted to learn more about hers.
Libby’s eyes shined, and she blinked away the emotion.
