Page 82 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
Oh, that one was easy. He was the cocky beefcake.
Case in point, he’d barely said two words to her since they got in the car.
Be the beefcake.
Harden your heart.
“Did you say something, Raz? Something about your heart?”
The breath caught in his throat at the sound of her voice.
“No, Libby,” Sebastian countered. “I don’t think my dad saidheart. It sounded like he saidfart. Did you fart, Dad? Granny Fin says you shouldn’t fart in a car. But if you do, you should roll down the window.” Sebastian tilted his head, sniffing the air. “I smell a fart.”
Libby leaned forward and gave the air a sniff as well.
“I didn’t fart,” he roared.
“Are you sure? I smell something bad. It’s okay if you’re a car farter,” Sebastian replied.
Car farter?
“It’s not my fart,” he answered gruffly, feeling his cheeks heat.
God’s sake!
He was teetering on the edge of a breakdown, working himself into knots over the upcoming fight. He didn’t have the emotional energy to defend himself from being labeled a car farter.
“Do you have a sour belly, Dad?” Sebastian continued.
“Sebastian, my belly is fine, and I didn’t fart.” He could feel Libby’s eyes on him, but he didn’t dare look her way.
“If you did fart,” Sebastian droned on, “Libby could show you how to move around in circles to make it better. It helped me after Phoebe dared me to eat three hot dogs in one minute. Americans like to eat a lot of food quickly. I thought I might puke after. We did yoga to make it better.”
“You’re doing yoga with my son?” he asked, eyeing the woman.
She threw a glance toward Sebastian in the back. “Yes, and he’s been showing me a few boxing moves. It’s too bad your busy schedule precludes you from taking part in family activities. If you had been around the last ten days, you would have seen that Sebastian and I practice yoga every morning and in the evenings. But of course, you’re so very busy.”
Venom dripped from her words.
Libby Lamb might not know a damn thing about boxing, but she sure could land a punch when she wanted.
“Yeah, I can do the tree and the warrior,” Sebastian chimed, lowering his voice as he extended his arms. “Right, Libby? I hardly wobble at all.”
“You are a yoga machine,” Libby replied, reaching back to high-five the boy, then each went into a prayer position. “Namaste, Sebastian.”
“Namaste, Libby,” the boy replied with a bow.
“What the bloody hell was that?” he barked.
“We’re honoring each other’s life force. Yoga is an excellent way to reflect, build endurance, and increase focus in children.” She sat back and threw a few eye daggers at him. “It also helps with indigestion and relieves symptoms that cause one to break wind. You know, your car farting condition.”
This woman!
Anyone who could saybreak windandcar fartingin the same breath without cracking a smile was well and truly pissed. If the whole fart business clearly hadn’t lightened her up, that had to mean he was doing a bang-up job of projecting the arrogant beefcake persona she despised. He should take comfort in that. She wasn’t for him. But that didn’t stop his bloody heart from aching.
“Libby and Granny Fin do yoga, too,” Sebastian added.
His jaw dropped. His gran wasn’t one to waste an hour, or even a quarter of an hour, for that matter, to sit on a mat and twist around. He wasn’t even sure the old bird could get herself down to the floor. She was more of the type to bustle around the kitchen, slapping him on the backside for drinking out of the milk jug or riding his sisters to do their homework.
