Page 154 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
A cosmic kick in the balls?
This man was speaking her love language.
With her chi balanced and her energy centers purring, she’d never felt freer and more deliciously devious in her life. But she had to play to the audience and maintain the appearance of the consummate yoga professional.
“I agree. It’s the least we can do.” She tapped her chin theatrically. “Derrick’s energy is quite off-balance. Pun-chi yoga to the rescue,” she announced, then waved in her boxer. “And you, Mr. Beefcake, get bonus points for using that fancy yoga lingo.”
“You can show your appreciation during our noisy yoga session tonight,” he tossed back.
That heady sensation working its way through her bloodstream morphed into a naughty tingle.
“Now, Miss Pun-chi Yoga, you’ve got a demo to do,” Raz said, his breath warm against the shell of her ear. “And you need to get moving, plum. Derrick will be able to catch his breath soon, and I have a sneaky suspicion, he’ll be a runner once he can get a little more oxygen.”
It was payback Pun-chi or bust time.
She took a knee, looked Derrick straight in the eyes, then channeled her inner beefcake, flashing the winded bro her best shit-eating grin. “Namaste, venture capitalist. I’ve come to deliver on that curse.”
Twenty-Three
Libby
Callin the four corners and hold on to your hat. Miss Wham, Bam, Libby Lamb, the gong banging, donkey racing, spiritual guru was about to conjure up a karma cleansing.
Derrick Dawson groaned, his eyes relaying what his mouth couldn’t.
He was completely and utterly mortified.
And even better than that. He was the one on display this time.
She turned to the crowd. “Since Derrick was so kind to donate to Maud and Bob’s donkey rescue ranch. I’d like to demonstrate a Pun-chi yoga movement inspired by our dear donkeys, Plum and Beefcake.”
Raz leaned toward Derrick, his hand to his ear, pretending to listen. “Derrick says, let ’er rip!”
Libby came to her feet, positioned herself in front of the winded man, and pressed her hands into a prayer position. “This Pun-chi yoga move is one of my favorites,” she began, eyeing the two Derricks in the crowd. The bros stared up at her, completely gobsmacked. “It incorporates balance as well as an array of punches and even packs a special donkey surprise.”
She glanced over her shoulder and looked Derrick Dawson dead in the eyes. Before he could protest, she hinged forward, executing a round of sharp jabs. She lifted one leg, bent her knee to a ninety-degree angle, then shot her foot into the air. Leading with her ankle, she executed a quick donkey kick movement—a movement that had her heel rocketing through Derrick’s open stance and grazing his Rocky Mountain oysters.
“Oops!” she remarked as Derrick attempted to suck in a breath, his eyes bulging and his cheeks blooming scarlet.
“Oy, mate! You’re supposed to move out of the way,” Raz coached, slapping the guy on his back. “Dodge and evade,bro. And protect those Dawson family jewels. Don’t you know anything about survival in the ring?”
Libby scanned the throng of onlookers. Penny and Charlotte held on to each other, shaking with laughter as Rowen and Mitch gave her two thumbs-up. The crowd whistled, clapped, and roared their appreciation. Even the donkeys took notice, braying and calling out. Raz raised her arm into the air—the victor. She hollered a hearty hee-haw, channeling her inner badass. Grinning like a psychic psycho, joy permeated every cell in her body. She caught Sebastian and Phoebe waving their hot dogs in the air as Oscar pointed his Polaroid camera her way and snapped pictures.
“How about your buddies?” Raz asked, waving for the two Derricks to come up as the cheers died down. But the men didn’t move. Raz pointed to his ear again and pretended to listen to Derrick speak. “What’s that? Your friends’ daddies want to donate ten thousand apiece to the donkey rescue?”
The crowd went wild as a beaming Maud entered the ring. “What a demonstration. And what a night for jackasses. Rickety Rock Donkey Rescue thanks you, Derrick Dawson and your friends for your kind donations,” the woman exclaimed for everyone to hear.
Libby clapped along with the rest of the crowd, absorbing the euphoric vibes.
Blame it on the moon. Blame it on the vortex. Blame it on the fierce blue-violet energy bouncing between herself and Raz. But whatever the trigger, a true cosmic reckoning had taken place.
But it wasn’t over.
A quick flash of black from above caught her eye. She looked up as a crow sailed above the ring, gliding on the night breeze…andsplat.
Derrick Dawson stared at his bird-crap-covered shoulder as a look of pure, repulsed horror marred his features.
“Karma can be a real bitch sometimes, can’t she?” Libby cooed, then shifted her focus from the bro to the boxer. She stared into Raz’s twinkling eyes, delighting in the rich violet and blue shades shimmering in the air.
