Page 71 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
Raz ruffled the boy’s hair. “You can get to know Libby, your nanny,” he finished, not even meeting her eye as he headed toward the door.
Giant, self-absorbed beefcake!
“I guess we’ll see you when we see you,” she called, restraining herself from hurling a few choice words his way. Raz glanced over his shoulder, and like seventy-five days ago—no, now it was seventy-six days ago, he looked through her, past her.
She was nothing to him—again.
For Pete’s sake! She hadn’t expected him to fawn over her, but a simple, civil acknowledgment wouldn’t kill him. They had spent the last several hours naked and screwing each other’s brains out—aka following the like-cures-like curriculum she’d suggested. Perhaps that’s all it was. An exercise. A set of motions to elicit a physical response. That’s how she proposed the sexual endeavor, right?
And then that little voice in her head returned.
You can’t trust a man with your heart. They will always disappoint you.
Had she wanted to trust Erasmus Cress with her heart? The man was a self-proclaimed beast and, as far as she could tell, a giant creep of a father.
Could she have feelings for him?
The front door slammed, and Libby got her answer.
Feelings could not get in the way of their association.
Bottom line? She could not fall for the beefcake.
And honestly, he was helping her out in that department.
Raz had bolted from the house like it was on fire, and he’d demonstrated Deadbeat Dad 101 behavior.
He’d walked out on his son.
Sure, he claimed he had to prepare for his upcoming, larger-than-life boxing match.
A chill spider-crawled down her spine.
Raz was preparing for a Pay-Per-View fight that people would bet on.
There would be winners and losers.
And a good portion of the fallout would be cataclysmic.
A decent number of those losers would take a hit that would devastate their families.
Anger permeated every cell in her body, but she swallowed down the anguish. She couldn’t let her mind go there—back to the days she longed to forget.
Get your head out of the past, Libby Lamb.
But the facts were the facts. Raz hadn’t only given her the cold shoulder. He’d barely acknowledged the son he hadn’t seen in months. She focused on the boy—a little boy she already wanted to protect. Sebastian’s bottom lip quivered, but the kid didn’t cry. Instead, his expression hardened.
She recognized the reaction. It was a child’s desire to please only to be rebuffed again and again.
She was well acquainted with that dynamic.
Libby steadied herself. She understood soul-shredding disappointment better than most. And she knew what Sebastian needed: a shift in energy, a change of scenery, and a little distraction.
Manufacturing what she hoped was a pleasant expression, she checked the clock. “My friends Penny and Charlotte usually get together with their kids and meet at a playground near here on Saturday mornings. It’s the same one I used to take my brothers to when they were about your age.” She paused as the memory of her frail mother entering the community center adjacent to the playground materialized. She pushed the thought away and pasted a smile to her lips. “I’d love to take you there, Sebastian. You can meet Phoebe and Oscar. They’re great kids, and they’re six like you are. I know they’d love to play with you. Are you up for it?”
Sebastian didn’t meet her eye, but the boy nodded as he stared at the front door. Libby could read the boy’s mind, watching as the loop of his father leaving played over and over.
They each needed a distraction and the restorative power of the outdoors STAT.
