Page 89 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
It had to be Briggs.
“No, don’t go out there. I can manage the door,” he answered, then swung the creaky thing open. He met Sebastian’s gaze, and the kid cocked his head to the side and frowned.
“You’re wrinkly, Dad,” the boy observed before scanning Libby from head to toe. “What’s wrong with your lips?”
“My lips?” she exclaimed, covering her mouth.
“They’re puffy and red. And your neck. You got another one of those bug bites.”
Bug bites?
He glanced at Libby’s neck. He didn’t see any bug bites, but he did spy a love bite.
Bloody hell. Why did her skin have to taste like honey?
Libby ran to the center of the bedroom and scanned the space.
“What are you looking for?” Had she lost her mind? Had they both?
“That,” she announced and pointed to the curtains.
He took a page from Sebastian’s playbook and cocked his head to the side.
Yep, that kissing had done them both in.
He stared at the flowing curtains with tiny black birds embroidered on the fabric. They were blue and violet like the rest of the room—which he hadn’t even noticed. They could have been in a broom closet for all he knew. Too much blood had left his brain and had headed south thanks to their hot and heavy make-out session.
And speaking of hot.
If he wasn’t in such a tizzy about the house being bombarded by the press, he’d need to subject himself to the coldest shower known to man. After that, he could sure use a sparring partner to clock him in the head a few times. He studied the heavy wooden door. Perhaps he could bang his head into it and knock some bloody sense into him.
What was he thinking?
That was the problem. He wasn’t thinking—at least not with his brain.
Distract yourself, you bloody fool!
He gave the frilly purply-blue room another look. There were little bird figurines everywhere—creepy little buggers—staring at him from every corner. Even the crows on the curtain seemed to be eyeing him.
“How are window coverings supposed to help?” he pressed.
“I’m repurposing them,” she replied, then removed the fabric from the rod and looped it around her neck. “It should cover my bug bite, so it doesn’t get…”
“Infected?” Sebastian offered with a weary bend to the word, clearly not quite sold on the whole curtain scarf idea.
“Yes, exactly, Sebastian! You’re a genius,” Libby exclaimed, and the boy lit up.
“Now that I’m looking at it, I quite like it as a scarf,” the lad chimed. “I like birds, especially crows.”
“You do?” he asked his son, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, sometimes I draw them in my sketchbook.”
“I liked birds when I was a kid, too.”
Sebastian grinned from ear to ear. “I didn’t know that, Dad. Do you hear that, Libby? My dad likes crows like I do.”
Raz’s chest tightened as the hole in his heart expanded. Despite giving his son the best this world had to offer, he didn’t know much about who the lad was. What made the boy tick, that is, besides wanting to learn about boxing? He honestly didn’t know.
