Page 120 of The Sebastian Guarantee
If Sebastian hadn’t been a grown-ass man holding a sex toy in front of two little kids, he would have laughed about his dad recycling the submarine torpedo moniker.
“Is Phoebe in the bathroom?” Ivy pressed.
“Yes, I’m in here, girls.”
“I know what’s going on,” Tula said, nodding to Ivy.
“You do?” he stammered.
“Phoebe must be taking a bath, and you were bringing her a submarine torpedo to play with,” Tula supplied.
He plastered a grin on his face, then pulled it back a fraction. The last thing he wanted to be was some dude smiling like a pervert while holding a sex toy in front of two kids. “That’s it,” he said, finding his voice. “I thought Phoebe might like a toy in the tub.”
Phoebe opened the door and joined him. “But your silly brother forgot that I wasn’t taking a bath. I was brushing my teeth.”
“You’ve got cookie crumbs all over your face,” Ivy remarked.
Tula narrowed her gaze, scrutinizing him. “You do too, Sebby.”
“It’s a new cookie-flavored toothpaste,” Phoebe lied.
The eight-year-olds stared them down. He shared a look with Phoebe. Pure terror glinted in her eyes. How the hell were they going to get out of this?
And then it came to him. “How about ice cream? I owe you four scoops, right, T? Let’s make it five. I’ll bring it to the picnic table outside. Ivy Elliott and Tula Cress will be the first kids in the history of cookouts to get five scoops of double chocolate fudge supreme.”
“That’s awesome!” the girls cheered.
And God bless ice cream.
“There’s a badminton net out by the picnic tables. Could you girls set it up for us while we get your ice cream?”
“Sure thing, Phoebe,” Tula called.
The girls clasped hands and skipped out of the apartment.
“That was close,” Phoebe said, wiping the cookie crumbs from the corners of his mouth.
He did the same for her. “Imagine if your uncle Rowen or my dad had walked in on us having cake sex.” He wrapped his arms around Phoebe just as the breeze blew open the front door. Two large forms loomed outside.
“Is this something I’ll have to read about on your Info Darling page, Phoebe?”
Sebastian winced. Dammit, he’d spoken too soon.
“Uncle Rowen! Erasmus!” Phoebe exclaimed.
“Everyone is in the courtyard,” his father said, suppressing a grin. “The nerd and I were sent up here to see if you needed any help. And you might want to put away the submarine torpedoes.”
Phoebe plucked the vibrator from Sebastian’s hand. Like a star quarterback, she launched it across the room. The sex toy sailed through the air, and his dad nearly jumped out of his skin. He’d never seen the man move that quickly—even in the ring.
“Easy there, lass,” the freaked-out former heavyweight champion yipped as the Wham Bam landed in an open moving box.
“That’s taken care of,” Phoebe said, dusting off her hands.
“Are you coming?” Rowen asked.
“In our kitchen?” Sebastian eked out. Rowen couldn’t be talking about the naughty kind of coming, could he? “Nobody is coming in the kitchen. Not me. Not Phoebe, my fiancée, who happens to be your niece, and this is getting awkward.”
“Are you coming to the cookout? We’re ready to fire up the grill,” Rowen clarified.
