Page 30 of Worst Nanny Ever (Babes of Brewing #2)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

TRAVIS

When I get home, I take off my shoes and socks and round the corner into the living room.

Some cartoon I don’t recognize is playing, and Hannah is on the couch with her arm around Ollie, both of them fast asleep.

I approach them, intending to carry him to his room, but I hesitate at the sight of them curled up on the couch.

Hannah’s bright hair surrounds her face like a halo, and my son’s face is at peace, his long eyelashes fluttering softly against his cheeks.

Ollie’s hair is shorter, so presumably Liam’s not the gum wizard he used to be.

A sense of loss hits me hard. I have no idea when he got his first haircut, or whether his hair initially grew in a different color.

More details that have been denied to me, details Lilah would never share, if she even remembers.

Suddenly I need that information in the way a body needs food, the way I need music.

The haircut makes Ollie look a little older, but he’s still so vulnerable looking. So breakable.

But Hannah’s holding him firmly, her strength so obvious I can feel it. I want to savor it. She’s still wearing that yellow dress from earlier—a bright spot. A beaming light. A glimmer of pure beauty in a world full of darkness.

They’re both beautiful, and it hurts to look at them.

Everything hurts lately, as if every wound I’ve ever been dealt has begun to bleed at once.

Trying to shake off the thoughts, I close the distance to the couch and gently caress Hannah’s arm, not wanting to wake her with a start. Her lashes flutter open and then her green eyes settle on me, stirring a warmth that fills my entire body and the soul caged within it.

“I’m going to carry him to his room,” I say, my voice thick.

She nods, but I notice she hugs him before relinquishing him to me. She cares about Ollie. She understands this fierce feeling inside of me, the painful need to protect someone smaller and in need of care.

I stare into her eyes, almost hypnotized, but Ollie makes a little snuffling noise, and I gather him up in my arms. He snuggles against my chest, and the protective feelings swell into a tidal wave that nearly bowls me over.

I lay Ollie down on his bed and pull the covers over him, then give in to the need to run a hand over his hair before leaving the room.

When I return to the living room, Hannah’s sitting up on the couch, waiting for me. There’s a smear of makeup under her right eye, but otherwise she looks immaculate, just like always, whether she’s dressed down or like this.

“Thank you for today,” I say. “For all of it.” I remain standing, because I don’t know if I can be that close to her right now without reaching for her.

She smiles sleepily. “Is my makeup all over my face?”

“No. Just a little bit near your eye.”

“Help a girl out?” she asks, tipping her head up to me.

A painful yearning consumes me as I sweep a finger beneath her eye, rubbing away the makeup smudge. I can’t resist caressing her cheek. Her skin is soft and warm and so touchable my fingers don’t know how to stop.

Her lips part, giving me a glimpse of her tongue, and the need to kiss her is almost overwhelming. I’ve been wanting to kiss her all day. All week. Longer.

But I can’t do that. I can’t.

“Will you sit down with me a minute?” she asks, her eyes lingering on me.

“I can’t sit right now,” I say, pacing a little to make the claim more believable. “You had to cut Ollie’s hair?”

She snorts. “It took Liam half an hour to finally admit he’d lost his magic gum-removing touch, but the trip wasn’t wasted, because Ollie actually really likes the OG Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles cartoon.

So it’s possible he and Mickey Mouse won’t be enemies for life.

Liam was really annoyed with himself, but I cut his hair too as a consolation prize. ”

“I’m glad you and Liam are getting along better.” I know it was weighing on her, being at odds with him. “And thank you for handling all of that. Ollie’s hair looks good.”

“I’ll cut your hair if you’d like.”

My mouth goes dry at the thought of her moving her hands through my hair, her fingers tugging slightly. That shouldn’t be an erotic thought, but right now everything’s erotic. “No, thanks. I have a feeling you’d go a little too short in the front.”

She grins. “What makes you think I’d want to share your birthmark with the world? Maybe I like that I get to see it more than most people.”

I suck in a deep breath, count to three, then slowly let it out. It doesn’t nothing to dull my reaction to her. “Still no.”

“Fair enough.” She picks up a coaster idly, then puts it back down before meeting my gaze again. “Thanks for hiding all the stuff from the toy store. Is it in here? What’d you do with it?”

“Maybe we’ll have a scavenger hunt sometime,” I say with a smile. “I assume you’ve already looked?”

“I checked under the bed and in your bedroom closet and gave up. I’m disappointed to admit I never would have made it as a spy.”

So my bedroom’s going to smell like her again. I’m glad about it, and the thought also makes me burn.

I must be staring at her too intently, because she glances away, her gaze finding something on the wall—probably marker, judging on past experience.

“How was the guy you auditioned?” she asks.

“Good… I think I hate him.”

Not something I meant to admit, and probably an unfair remark, but I realize it’s true. I don’t like him.

She laughs. “Isn’t it my job to form irrational opinions about strangers?”

“Maybe we can both have a turn,” I say, grateful for the coffee table between us. That’s good. I can’t exactly pull her to me if there’s a coffee table between us.

“So why do you hate this guy?” she asks.

“You’re going to laugh.”

“Maybe I could use a laugh.”

I shrug one shoulder. “He’s full of himself.”

“Isn’t every musician?” She waggles her eyebrows, looking cute as hell.

“Sure, but I don’t get a bad vibe from every musician. I got one from him.”

She fulfills my prophecy and laughs. “Look at you, being surprising again. You seem too organized and practical to believe in vibes.”

“I’ve learned to trust my gut,” I say with a shrug. “I’ve had to. When I first met Lilah, I could tell we’d be a disaster together, and I still let it happen. ”

“So you think this guy’s going to Yoko Ono your band?”

I laugh. “Not unless Bixby starts dating him. But…” I pause, considering. “Yeah, I’m worried he’s going to cause tension. I guess he already is. Bixby stormed out earlier.”

She studies me for a moment, sucking on her bottom lip. “I’m worried this will piss you off…”

“Not a great beginning.”

She smiles. “It’s just…is the problem that this guy and Bixby want the band to get big, and you don’t?”

Well, damn. Leave it to Hannah to cut right to the heart of things. “Now you’re the surprising one,” I say. “I didn’t say any of that.”

“No, but I’ve seen how you react to aggressive fans. I know you’re not the kind of guy who wants to be asked to sign bras in the produce section at the grocery store.”

“I can’t let Rob and Bixby down,” I insist.

“Maybe you should think less about what other people want and more about what you want.”

“You’re encouraging me to be a narcissist?” I ask, arching my brow. “Why does this feel like a trap?”

She laughs, her whole face getting in the game. No one else smiles like Hannah. “It’s not. I’m not telling you to go for what you want no matter what it costs anyone else. But you should know what you want. Everyone should know what they want.”

I take a step toward her, and my leg knocks into the side of the table I temporarily forgot was there. “And what do you want?”

She gets up, her eyes fixed on me. “I want to be there for Ollie, and to help the staffers at Big Catch. And I really want to help Eugene get laid.”

I laugh. “And here I was hoping you might want to help me get laid.”

Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that .

But she starts laughing too and taps her full lips with her finger. “I don’t think that was in the job description, but I have already gone above and beyond to help keep this place clean. I suppose I could help you with that too.”

She’s only teasing, of course, but I feel the line I crossed. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you probably shouldn’t have,” she says. “Because now I’m going to expect you to do something about it.”

The next thing I know, she’s standing in front of me and holding my arm, her fingers wrapped as far around it as they’ll go—not very. I stop in my tracks, my whole body shifting its focus to her.

At this particular moment, she might as well have wrapped her hand around my cock.

“Hannah,” I breathe out.

“Are you going to take what you want?” she whispers, her voice curling around me.

Her hair is in luscious soft curls around her face, and I let myself run my fingers through one.

Instead of answering her question, I lower my face toward hers, our mouths a whisper apart. Her lips are so touchable, the dare in her voice obvious.

My mouth answers for me as I press my lips to hers, the contact instantly sending a shudder through me.

I’m disappointed in myself—I only held out two days, two days —but I’m so relieved to be touching her again that I can’t make myself care.

My hand weaves into her hair, drawing her closer, and I kiss her as if it’s the only thing keeping me going.

She’s the first to pull back. “Why, Mr. Sir Travis…”

“Oh, for the love of God,” I groan.

She grins at me, her eyes full of mischief. Then she leans in to kiss me again before saying, “The couch. I want to straddle you. I’ve been thinking about it ever since we watched that movie together.”

“Hannah, we shouldn’t…”

“I don’t care,” she says, holding my gaze. “Not tonight. Let’s let ourselves have tonight.”