Page 157 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
“Who could forget Plum and Beefcake?” Raz answered, rubbing the boy’s back as he caught her eye.
And the real magic of the night revealed itself.
Sure, kicking a spoiled misogynist in the balls was a fantastic rush, but it didn’t hold a candle to these quiet moments when it was the three of them.
They said good night to Maud and Bob, untied the donkeys, contented from chomping away on a buffet of fresh hay, and headed for the trail that led to the Victorian. It was another perfect Colorado night. The gentle burro whinnies combined with the echo of their steps crunching along the path and Sebastian’s sleeping breath made for a peaceful lullaby. She stared ahead, and in the glow of the moonlight, she spied a stack of rocks off to the side of the trail.
“We’re on the right path,” Raz said softly, taking note as they passed the marker.
Was he talking about the trail or about them as a couple?
“We are,” she replied, not exactly sure which question she’d answered when her phone pinged, cutting through the quiet.
“Do you need to check that?” Raz asked.
“I better look. It might be Penny or Charlotte.” She slipped her cell from her pocket and frowned. “Never mind, it’s nothing. Another email from C.L. Investments. I’m sure they’re as legit as the Tri-Derricks.” She peered at the screen and noticed the other emails. “Penny mentioned a few messages came in from them while I was in the ring with you and Derrick. It’s probably another group of creeps,” she answered, tucking the phone away.
“Who knows? You are Libby Lamb, Pun-chi yoga creator and spiritual advisor to arguably the best boxer who’s ever lived.”
“You forgot that this boxer is also the humblest athlete on the planet,” she teased as Beefcake whinnied.
“Thanks, Beefcake. I appreciate the support, mate,” Raz replied, shifting Sebastian to one arm so he could scratch the burro’s neck.
The back of the darkened Victorian came into view, and the man chuckled.
“What is it?” she asked.
“If someone had told me ten years ago that I’d be spending the summer learning how to race donkeys through the Colorado Rocky Mountains, I would have bet everything I had that they were dead wrong.” He paused. “Sorry, plum, I shouldn’t have put it like that.”
“It’s okay. I understand what you mean,” she replied as the door to the part of her heart containing that grain of hope cracked open a little farther. He got it. He got her. For Pete’s sake, he masterminded the whole kick-Derrick-in-the-balls situation. That alone meant the world to her.
“I truly never thought I’d be doing anything like this, plum.” He shifted Sebastian in his arms and pressed a kiss to the top of the boy’s head. “I didn’t think I could be this person,” he added with a slight shake to his voice.
She understood him completely.
“They don’t race burros across the London Bridge after teatime?” she asked, lightening the mood.
“Teatime?” he repeated, amusement infused in the word. “I didn’t grow up in an episode ofDownton Abbey. Sorry to disappoint you.”
“No?” she asked, feigning mock curiosity. “Your granny Fin didn’t have the servants ring a gong to inform you it was time to dress for dinner?”
“You and those bloody gongs,” he said, shaking his head. “We didn’t have much growing up, but we had enough. Granny Fin thinks this fame and fortune is a little over the top,” he answered, gesturing in front of them as the back of the grand Victorian came into view.
“And what do you think about where you are in the world?”
She hadn’t meant to ask the question. It slipped from her lips, and the words hovered in the sweet mountain air.
He glanced at her, and the moonlight highlighted his strong, angular jawline. “I’m beginning to think those stacks of rocks might be right.”
What could she say to that? Her heart had one answer, but her head had another.
Shrouded in a comfortable silence, they followed the path that led to the barn. It didn’t take long to remove the donkeys’ bridles and secure them for the night. Plum and Beefcake sniffed the sleeping Sebastian, bidding the boy the donkey version of sweet dreams, then settled into their temporary lodging.
“Love you, donkeys,” Sebastian murmured as they left the darkened barn. Like ghosts in the night, the trio silently passed the cottage, then made their way up the steps leading to the Victorian’s back entrance.
She opened the door and held it for Raz, patting Sebastian’s back as they entered the darkened house. Falling into step, they ascended the two sets of stairs that led to the boy’s third-floor bedroom. Raz removed Sebastian’s shoes and socks as she opened his window, allowing the wildflower-scented air to cool the space—the familiar nightly ritual as soothing as a mindful meditation. And it was a type of mindfulness—the three of them existing in a perfect bubble of mountain harmony. She remained by the window, admiring the moon as the curtains tickled her arm, fluttering like that renegade butterfly who’d sparked quite an adventure and had brought her beefcake sprinting to her rescue.
Sebastian mumbled something about hot dogs in his sleep as Raz tucked the boy into bed, and a single question percolated in her mind.
