Page 152 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
She knew one thing for sure.
Derrick Dawson was simply no match for Erasmus Cress, and she liked it.
A lot.
Like, a lot, a lot.
Butterflies erupted in her belly.
She could watch Raz knock the bro down a few pegs all day long.
The noodle-armed Derrick swung again and again, grunting with exertion.
But it was no use for the grand Derrick douche canoe.
Her beefcake had gone into champion boxer mode. As if he were channeling a Zen master, Raz’s torso glided side to side, flowing with his chi as he evaded the punches. She couldn’t take her eyes off the pair. It was as if she were watching the scene play in slow motion.
Raz be nimble.
Raz be quick.
Derrick Dawson’s ass, Raz, please kick!
Her beefcake was the epitome of boxing perfection, and she was there for it.
“Let him have it, beefcake!” she howled, banging her hand on the ring’s padded floor as Penny, Char, Mitch, and Rowen joined in.
Derrick Dawson pouted like the spoiled bro he was. All he needed now was a sad trombone rendition of thewah, wah, wah, wahdisappointment soundtrack. At his pathetic failure to land a punch, his jaw dropped, along with his gloves, and his cheeks grew scarlet.
Raz tossed her a mischievous smile, then set his sights on the man. “Hey, Derrick?”
“Yeah?”
“How’s the venture capitalist life treating you?” he growled.
“What?” Derrick shrieked, confusion marring his features.
And that’s when Raz went in for the punch. In the space of a breath, he got the guy right in the solar plexus.
Pop!
It wasn’t a hard hit. She’d been watching him train. The tap he administered to Derrick Dawson would barely sway the heavy bag. Still, the bro stood there, frozen with the wind knocked out of him, as the crowd expelled a collective gasp.
“Ooh,” Wobbly Bob said with a wince.
Yeah, ooh, was right.
Raz grinned at the audience. “Don’t you worry. Derrick’s only playing around, aren’t you, boyo? All he got was a tap to the diaphragm. What a great sport you are, mate. Look what twenty grand gets you. This man knows how to spar with the Beast,” Raz finished as cameras flashed, illuminating his shit-eating grin.
Derrick tried to nod, but the man was well and truly stunned—and chasing his breath to boot.
Raz met her gaze, then leaned over like he was listening to something Derrick had to say. He nodded, then took a stroll around the ring. “Listen to this, folks. Derrick has a request. He wants me to invite my Pun-chi yoga coach into the ring to demonstrate a few of our moves. It turns out he’s a huge yoga fan. What a banger of an idea!” he exclaimed, slipping off his gloves.
And sweet chakra pie, what did he say?
She stared at the man. “No, Raz, I can’t,” she whispered.
“You’ve got this, Mibby!” Sebastian cheered.
