Page 32 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
“It’s a nine-mile race that takes place in a small mountain town not far from Aspen called Rickety Rock,” Madelyn added.
“You’ll be representing Denver’s first responders in the race. You do support the men and women who protect and serve this city, I presume?” the chief asked, her expression hardening, and there was only one acceptable answer.
He straightened in the chair like a schoolboy. “With all our hearts and twice on Thursdays.”
Had he gone bonkers?
Possibly, but all things considered, this race had to be the best possible punishment compared to being labeled a sexual deviant.
“Just to be clear,” he asked cautiously. “If we compete in a nine-mile race in the mountains, the charges against us will be dropped?”
Chief Ramirez nodded. “That’s correct. The race is in about seven weeks. That’ll give you plenty of time to train.”
He sat back in the chair and crossed his legs. The anxiety that had built up in his chest gave way to relief that welcomed back the slightly smug, self-assured part of him. “No training needed, Chief. I could run nine miles in my sleep. I’m not sure if you recognize me, but I’m quite a big deal in the boxing world. I’m in excellent physical condition.”
There it was. His trademark swagger was back.
Hello, British Beast! Good to see you, Lion!
“You’re required to run the race together,” the chief continued.
“That’s not a problem. I can run nine miles, too,” Libby answered.
He sized her up, slipping further into his boxing persona. Sure, Libby was fit as hell but stretching, banging gongs, and throwing sex toys didn’t count as conditioning in his book. “You think you could run nine miles and keep up with me?”
She sharpened her gaze, those amber eyes boring into him like lasers. “If I can teach three ninety-minute power yoga classes in a row, then I’m in perfect shape to run ninemeaslymiles.”
The competitive part of him couldn’t hold back. “You may be exaggerating there, plum. No need to fear, though. I can get you into shape.” He turned to the chief. “If she had to walk, would that be a problem?” But before the chief could answer, Libby tugged on the sleeve of his hoodie.
“Hey, beefcake, I’m stronger than I look. I don’t need a man to train me to do anything,” she shot back, then bolted to her feet. “Do you mind if I make a little room? I’d like to demonstrate something,” she asked, already pushing her chair against the wall.
What button did he push on the yoga nutter now?
The chief and Madelyn shared another knowing look. “Knock yourself out,” Chief Ramirez answered, leaning against the side of her desk.
Libby moved a few more chairs out of the way, kicked off her shoes, then faced the group with her hands pressed together like she was auditioning to be a monk. She shot him an icy glare, peeled off her bird-shit-encrusted little red wrap, then tossed it to him. Inhaling a breath, her demeanor shifted as the anger in her eyes changed to a look of focused determination.
“Eka hasta vrksasana. One-handed tree pose,” she announced.
This was not the time to teach a yoga class.
He shook his head. “It’s called standing, and it won’t help you run nine miles.”
She ignored him, then as gracefully as a bloody swan, his yoga nutter folded forward and lifted her legs into the air.
“You can do a handstand. Congratulations,” he muttered.
Who did she think she was going to impress with that move?
But Libby clearly wasn’t bothered by his skeptical narration. Although she was upside down, he observed the sly grin that slid across her lips. As if it took no effort, she parted her legs into a V, then lifted one of her bloody hands off the ground. Defying gravity, she remained in the pose. Her limber legs and ballerina arm projecting from her body looked as if she were doing a set of jumping jacks at the exact moment the world flipped over—and her with it.
He rose to his feet. “Bloody hell, plum! How long can you balance on one hand?”
“Longer than you,” she tossed back, still upside down, with one hand pressed to the ground. She didn’t shake or tremble. There wasn’t a wobble to be seen—just fluid motion and the strength of an elephant packed into one tiny, completely off-her-rocker woman.
“There’s another catch with the race,” the police chief added.
He caught Libby’s eye. “Are you coming back up?”
