Page 153 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
“It is for charity,” Charlotte offered, biting back a grin.
“Do it for the donkeys,” Penny added. “And give me your phone. I’ll hold it for you and take some pics for Anders and Alec. They’ll get a kick out of this.”
“Go on, Libbs!” Charlotte coaxed.
Libby peered at Sebastian, grinning and whooping. “Yeah, okay,” she answered, still dazed as she handed over her cell and took in the surreal situation.
What choice did she have?
She glanced at the array of people with their phones out, snapping pictures and taking videos. Her gaze bounced between Raz and the winded Derrick Dawson. Wide-eyed and still sipping shallow breaths, he couldn’t speak a word.
Raz leaned in toward Derrick again. “What’s that, Derrick? You and my coach Libby Lamb are old chums?”
Old chums? Raz was laying it on thick.
The boxer turned to the crowd. “Let’s give Libby a nice welcome. Libby, Pun-chi, Libby, Pun-chi!” the man chanted. And sweet Buddha’s belly, everyone in the square joined in.
“Go on, Libby,” Bob called, his white beard twitching as he waved his hat in the air.
“Okay,” she answered nervously as Raz slipped out from under the ropes. He took her hand and helped her into the ring.
“You can thank me later. Let’s see some wham, bam, Libby Lamb fireworks,” he whispered.
This man.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she whispered.
He shrugged. “You know how Madelyn calls herself a facilitator of fate?”
“Yes.”
“Tonight, I’m keen on being a facilitator of karma,” he answered, that rolling British accent massaging the hell out of the words and sending a bona fide zing through her body.
“Karma,” she echoed. She stared at Derrick, who glowered at her.
“She’s the yoga bitch who cursed me and my friends,” the guy rasped. It was faint, but she’d heard it loud and clear.
Even gasping for breath, the guy was a certified spoiled brat.
However, this nugget of knowledge ushered in a dose of divine insight.
Like a haze dissolving into the night air, Derrick Dawson’s wellbeing no longer took center stage. If anyone on the planet could use a dose of his own medicine, it was this entitled jerk.
A heady sensation took over. It was time to join Raz and get in on facilitating a karma whiplash.
The universe was all in for unleashing her off-the-cuff power of three curse.
And who was she to argue with the metaphysical?
Like a yogi with a grudge, she inhaled serenity and exhaled sweet revenge.
Sensing her shift in energy from meek yogi to conniving super villain, Raz puffed up and manufactured his signature cocksure smirk. “Our Derrick Dawson is in for a treat,” he began, addressing the crowd. “As practitioners of Pun-chi yoga, it’s our sacred duty to assist this fine gentleman in achieving inner balance and harnessing his chi. It’s the least we could do after the man donated so generously to the donkey rescue ranch.”
The crowd roared, eating it up.
Raz circled the ring, then stopped behind her. The palpable pulse of energy between them and the heat coming off his body lit a fire in hers.
“We’re doing him a favor, plum,” he whispered. “You can give him a chakra tune-up or a cosmic kick in the balls. It’s your choice.”
