Page 158 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
How would a guy and a gal, who’d each sworn off relationships, navigate the muddy waters of what came next? There was no doubt they shared lightning-hot chemistry. The question was, could they look past the for-nowquality of this arrangement? Or was she foolish to imagine he’d want more beyond their like cures like experiment?
“I can hear you thinking from across the room,” Raz said softly, coming toward her, the old floorboards giving a weary whine beneath his step. She pressed her hands to his chest, reveling in the solid wall of muscle when a cell phone rang, and a voice from below floated in on the breeze.
A voice she recognized.
“What is it, Tony? I’m waiting for my daughter. I can’t be on the phone. I’ll be back in Denver late tonight. We can talk over a beer in a couple of hours.”
A pause.
“I wasn’t lying. My daughter is working with Erasmus Cress. You saw the video and heard his fancy agent go on about it. I’m at their place now. They should be back any minute. There was some event in town. It gave me a chance to peek around their training compound. It’s something, Tony. The guy’s got a state-of-the-art boxing facility here. Once they’re back, I’ll work the old Connolly Lamb charm and see what else I can learn about what he’s been doing to prep for the fight.”
Libby held Raz’s gaze as the voice—her father’s voice—grew quiet. Raz’s expression hardened, and the man turned to leave, but she held on to his arm, keeping him in place. She sensed her dad’s call wasn’t finished. And as much as it hurt to listen to him cluck and boast about exploiting their relationship, she needed to hear every selfish word. A few seconds passed, and like she’d thought, her dad was back at it.
“Now, come on, Tony. You said if I gave you the inside scoop, you’d loan me a grand to put on the fight. I told you, my daughter’s living with the guy and training him. I’m sure I can get her to introduce me to the Lion. Then I’ll let you know if I think he’s making a real comeback or not. Either way, we’re making money off this fight. I can feel it.”
A thousand stones sank in her belly, and the weight of being Connolly Lamb’s daughter hung heavy, like an anchor pulling her down, down, down. She closed her eyes and did what she used to do as a girl. She pictured a beach on a Hawaiian Island with the swing swaying in the breeze. She could almost hear Shandra’s voice cueing the next move in the yoga flow, gentle and reassuring, a balm to her broken heart.
Be the light, and always remember, love is stronger than any force holding you back.
Inhale peacefulness and exhale stress. Inhale love and exhale forgiveness.
Libby opened her eyes. She wanted to take Shandra’s advice, but she couldn’t exhale forgiveness.
Not for her father.
It was one thing to call and ask for cash, but coming here to spy on them was next-level duplicity. And she wasn’t about to stand for it.
Ditching the mantras, she hurried past Raz, leaving Sebastian’s room like a gathering storm, and flew down the stairs to the second floor.
“Do you want me to take care of him, plum?” Raz asked, taking the steps two at a time behind her. A muscle ticked in his jaw as his energy darkened—or maybe that was her vibe overshadowing his. She couldn’t tell.
“He’s my father. I’ll deal with him.”
“Then I’m coming with you.”
She shook her head. “You heard him, Raz. He’s here to snoop around. You don’t have to give him the satisfaction of getting to tell his friends he got to meet the champion, Erasmus Cress. No, I won’t do that to you. I’ll tell him to leave on my own.”
“Yeah, you can tell him, but I’ll be by your side when you do it,” the man answered, as stubborn as a mule.
She blinked back tears. “I don’t want you to see this. I don’t want you to think that I’m anything like him.”
And there it was, the searing humiliation and the thunderous anger she’d carried for more than a decade. The burning resentment snarled and popped in her chest.
He ran his hands down the sides of her arms. “I know you’re not like him, plum. I know who you are.”
“But you’re still coming with me, aren’t you?”
He tipped her chin. “I meant what I said. Your fights are my fights.”
There was such comfort in his words that his kindness alone nearly brought her to tears.
“Okay, but let me do the talking.”
Without a word, he nodded, then gestured toward the staircase. Step by step, she gathered her resolve, hardening her heart. When she reached the first floor, she was ready for battle. She flicked on the outdoor lamps and glanced through the window. In response to the blast of light, her father cried out, flailing his arms as a cascade of cracks and thuds added to the flurry of movement. She swung open the door, stepped onto the porch, and observed her dad bent over and working furiously to balance the stone stack he’d knocked over.
“There’s my girl. I’ve been waiting to surprise you,” her father said, glancing over his shoulder toward the gravel road that led to the Victorian. He must have assumed it was the only way to the house.
She crossed her arms and observed the man. It had been several months since she’d last seen him. He’d lost weight, and his clothes fit awkwardly on his slight frame. He smoothed his hair and straightened like a child gearing up to ask for something. She knew this song and dance well.
