Page 252 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
“Phoebe says you should always ask before you run into a bedroom. You don’t want to get in the way of a wrestling match,” Sebastian explained as Libby pressed her hand to her lips.
“Score one for Rowen and Penny,” he whispered, pulling on a T-shirt.
Libby slipped on a sundress and pointed toward the bathroom. “I need a second. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
He nodded, then opened the door. “How was your day with your aunts and Mibby’s brothers?” he asked, walking with his son toward the staircase.
“They did a lot of this,” Sebastian answered and tapped his foot twice.
Screw-ing?
Kiss-ing?
His thoughts spiraled.
Those bloody Lamb boys!
Okay, he really liked the blokes. They were great guys and smart as hell, but, like his fiancée said, he’d always be the protective lion.
“Why are you making a growly face, Dad?” Sebastian asked as they descended the stairs.
“I’m having a think, trying to decipher your taps.”
“Talk-ing,” the boy supplied. “What did you think I tapped?”
He released an audible breath. “We’ll talk about it in twenty years.”
Ding-dong!
“They’re here.” Sebastian cried, forgoing the final two steps and leaping onto the marble floor.
“Go ahead and let them in,” Libby called as she padded down the steps. “Your dad and I need to check the patio and turn on the grill.”
“On it!” Sebastian answered, sprinting toward the front door.
“Why don’t you get the wine and the glasses, and I’ll grab the appetizers. I just looked at my phone, and Madelyn’s coming, too,” Libby said, taking his hand as they entered the kitchen.
He tucked a few bottles of wine under his arm and found a box with wineglasses. He sauntered onto the porch, then shook his head. “Plum!”
“Yeah?”
“Your mum crapped on the patio again,” he called, turning on the hose to wash away the bird poop as a crow landed on a branch of a tall oak overlooking the sprawling yard. He observed the crow, then nodded to the psychic ripple of his soon-to-be mother-in-law.
Yeah, thanks to Libby, his chakras were aligned, and he was one hundred percent on board with team metaphysical karma-licious yoga-speak mumbo jumbo.
Libby set the snacks on the table and peered at the bird. “It’s not my mother. It’s the—”
“Ripples of her love cosmically entering our lives,” he answered, drawing her into his embrace.
She tapped the tip of his nose. “That was a very zen-tastic explanation.”
He shrugged, playing it off. “I am engaged to the hottest yoga teacher on the planet. Something was bound to rub off.”
She gasped, mock outrage written all over her face.
“Fine! I’m a Pun-chi yoga super freak and proud of it.” He took her hand in his, admired the ring glinting in the sunlight, then kissed her knuckles. “I love you, plum.” He cupped her face in his hand and stared into her eyes.
She pushed onto her tiptoes and smiled against his lips. “I love you, too, beefcake.”
