Page 39 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
She was an employee.
His employee.
They’d barely spoken since they’d left the station with their donkey T-shirts and, thank you, universe, without a summons to appear in court for lewd behavior. She pressed her thighs together, attempting to calm her sexytimes chakra from firing up, but his voice, that sexy, rolling British accent that she should not find appealing, sent a delicious tingle down her spine.
She checked her hand for bird crap. “It’s my wrap. I forgot about the bird poop on the shoulder,” she replied, then cringed. Here she was, casually mentioning bird crap with her nemesis new boss.
“We can throw it in the wash when we get home,” he said, eyes trained forward.
Home.
His home was about to become her home—well, his Denver home, and then they’d head to Rickety Rock for the summer. In a darkly humorous way, it made sense that her energy would attract someplace rickety.
Her phone pinged in her bag, and she slid her focus from Raz’s profile to the tote.
“Do you need to get that?” he asked.
She fidgeted with her bracelet. “It’s my friends. I should text them back, but I’m not sure how to explain what happened tonight.”
He sighed a heavy breath. “That makes two of us, plum.”
Plum.
Was that a British thing or some strange term of endearment he employed with women, akin to babe?
She’d been explicitly clear when she’d ordered him not to apply the term to her, but there was something oddly sweet about being called plum. She was about to ask him about it when a robotic voice rang out over the car’s speakers.
Call from Calliope.
She tensed. Holy Buddha’s belly, who was Calliope? Was this Raz’s girlfriend calling? A booty call? It was Friday night. Her pulse hammered in her throat as a thorny sensation prickled through her.
Jealousy.
Jealousy was a sensation she rarely experienced, especially when it came to men.
No, she wasn’t jealous.
No way! No how!
Erasmus Cress could bang half of Denver, and she wouldn’t care, right? Nevertheless, a hot streak tore through her. Blast her cockamamie chi. “Do you need to get that?” she asked, unable to stifle the huffy trill in her tone as she borrowed his words.
Raz huffed. “It’s my little sisters. Do you mind if I pick up? They’ve already left five messages tonight.”
Sisters?
It was hard enough picturing the arrogant ass as a father. And then it hit her. Sebastian had to have a mother. Did Raz have an ex-wife or ex-girlfriend out there? The thought of this man being connected to other humans was both incredibly foreign and weirdly comforting.
A strange sense of relief flooded her system. “Go ahead. Take the call.”
He tapped a button on the steering wheel. “Hey, Calliope,” he said wearily.
“Finally, Erasmus! Bloody nice of you to pick up,” came a woman’s teasing British accent.
He released a frustrated breath. “I’ve been busy.”
“Yeah, brother, we, along with the rest of the world, got to see exactly what you were busy with tonight. What a cock-up,” a slightly higher voice chimed.
“Hello, Callista,” Raz grumped with a distinctly resigned air to the words.
