Page 253 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
He closed his eyes and melted into her kiss. He parted his lips, ready to devour her softness, when Phoebe Gale’s voice pierced the air.
“This is very common, Sebastian. You’ll see this a lot,” the child said, her tone clinical.
“And it can happen at any time,” Oscar explained. “You don’t get much warning.”
“It’s kind of gross, but it’s a great time to raid the cookie jar. You can get away with anything when they’re like this,” the little girl continued, lowering her voice.
“Or get a popsicle. Popsicles don’t last long at my house,” Oscar added.
Libby giggled, lowering herself. “We’ve got an audience.”
He surveyed the pint-sized trio. “Sebastian, take your friends down to the barn to say hello to Beefcake and Plum. You can feed them some carrots.”
“We’ll come get you when it’s time to eat,” Libby added as the children sprinted toward the barn.
“Get used to being interrupted,” Mitch remarked and set a six-pack of beer on the table.
Charlotte, Penny, Rowen, and Landon filed in after the chef.
“Welcome to casa Cress,” he said, opening the wine and pouring the women each a glass.
“Thanks for having us over,” Penny replied, taking a seat. “Your new place is terrific, and I’ve got some news.”
“Do you remember when Penny thought up Erasmus Cress, Donkey Boxer?” Rowen asked, cracking a beer.
“I thought you were joking,” he answered, handing Libby a glass of wine.
“We had our designers put something together to beta test the idea,” Rowen began.
“And the players love it,” Penny chimed. “What do you say, Raz?”
He shared a look with Libby. Once upon a time, he’d have nixed anything as ridiculous as Erasmus Cress Donkey Boxer.
But now…
“I love it,” he answered, embracing every new opportunity.
Penny clapped. “Perfect. We’ll talk business later. Now, tell us how you’re doing.”
“How are you settling in?” Charlotte added.
“Slowly,” Libby answered, then glanced into the house. “Harper’s not with you? She said she’d be here.”
At the mention of Harper, Landon cracked open a beer and guzzled it down in one giant swig.
“Thirsty, mate?” he asked, taking in the heartthrob’s nervous demeanor, but before the man could answer, Madelyn Malone strode onto the patio.
“I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in,” the woman crooned, adding a bottle of wine to the table. “A housewarming gift for you. Thank you for inviting me.”
“You’re always welcome here,” Libby replied, embracing the matchmaker.
“You made another match,” Mitch said, pouring Madelyn a glass of wine.
The woman took a sip. “The matches make themselves. I’m simply the—”
“Facilitator of fate,” everyone but Landon supplied.
Madelyn chuckled. “Indeed, indeed.”
