Page 38 of Worst Nanny Ever (Babes of Brewing #2)

“Why are you in this car if you’re not drunk?” I ask my brother.

“One of the Ships Ahoy groupies knifed my tire. Must have been a slow leak. We got to the brewery safely, but it was flat by the time we left.”

Hot damn. That second group of fans wasn’t messing around.

“What happened at the brewery?” I ask, glancing between them.

“We all shared the essence of our souls,” Dottie tells me with a broad smile. “It was beautiful.”

Turning back to Liam, I say, “Please tell me you didn’t have an orgy.”

He gives me a lopsided smile. “It was tempting, but I promised not to sleep with any more of your friends. You know I keep my word.”

“Oh, it wasn’t an orgy, dear,” Dottie says, tapping my arm. “ It was a more beautiful kind of connection. By the end of the evening, our auras had melded together.”

Kind of sounds like an orgy.

“Eugene’s gonna flip when he wakes up,” Liam says with a low laugh. “He was drunk in front of everyone on staff. But the real horror was that he was nice to everyone. He asked them all about the BS they wrote on their name tags.”

“The name tags were such a success,” Dottie says with a soft smile. “I learned so much about crocheting and NASCAR, and your dear brother offered to teach Eugene how to box.”

I raise my eyebrows at Liam.

“He’s not going to take me up on it when he’s sober.

” He sounds irritated, like he’s annoyed he was caught being nice to someone.

“He did a lot of things he’s going to regret.

” His lips tip up. “He gave the guy who always wears that hat a fifty percent tip and told him not to spend it all in one place.”

“Jesus, Liam,” I groan. “You’ve worked there for years, and you still don’t know his name? Wasn’t he wearing a name tag?”

“Sure,” he says blandly. “I don’t remember his name, but I know he enjoys playing Dungeons and Dragons.”

I bite my lip, considering everything he’s said. “Is it possible they like Eugene now?”

“Let’s be honest,” he says. “There was nowhere to go but up. At least they know he’s human enough to get drunk. That’s something. Also, he has a new staff nickname.”

Everyone has one. Liam’s is Beast, mine was—cue eyeroll—Big Red.

“What is it?” I ask with interest.

“Spreadsheet.”

Appropriate. Eugene might even like it.

“He also told us all about his long, sordid history with Mrs. Applebaum. ”

“I missed that?” I ask mournfully.

“I’m sure your ‘friend’ can fill you in.”

Someone taps on the window, and I look over to see Rob standing outside the door. Right, it’s his car. I roll down the window. “Yes?”

“Come on, Hannah,” he says with a sigh. “It’s been a long day, and I’d like to get this over with as quickly as possible. Sophie says you’re okay with staying with Travis and Ollie?”

“Yup,” I say. “Duty calls,” I announce to the others.

“And you’re going home with Sophie,” Rob tells Dottie. “She’s waiting in her car for you.”

“Oh, what a delight!” Dottie grins at him, then turns to the others. “Have a wonderful sleep, my dears. I’ll see you soon.”

Before she gets out of the car, she reaches into her purse, which must truly be bottomless, and emerges with a couple of thumb-sized crystals. She tucks one into Eugene’s balled hand, getting no response from him other than a twitch of his mustache, and hands the other to Liam.

“You hold onto that,” she says, tapping Liam’s hand. “It’ll all become clear to you in time.”

“That’s good to know,” he says dryly, but I can tell he’s fond of her. It would be pretty impossible not to be.

Dottie climbs out of the car, and I’m about to follow her when my brother calls my name. I glance back at him, lifting my eyebrows.

“Be careful,” he says.

He’s talking about my situation with Travis. I wouldn’t have called in that favor for just anyone, and he knows it.

I salute him and exit the car.

“Thanks for bringing Liam home,” I tell Rob in an undertone after shutting the car door behind me.

“No problem. ”

Before getting into Sophie’s car, Dottie waves to us so energetically she almost topples over. Sophie waits for Dottie to settle into the passenger seat, and then she blows us a kiss and then drives off.

Once they’re out of sight, Rob hugs me and nods toward the house. “Go easy on him. I don’t really know what’s going on between you two, but he’s going through some heavy shit, and he had a hard day. I’m sure he’ll tell you the rest in the morning.”

“Thanks, Rob. You’re a good guy to have around.”

“I wouldn’t leave him with anyone else when he’s like this,” he tells me seriously.

I nod, feeling a little choked up—because if that’s not a sign of trust, what is?—and go inside.

I head into Travis’s room, expecting to find him passed out on the bed, but he’s standing at his dresser, taking his shirt off with one hand held against the furniture for balance.

I come to standstill, as if someone just paused me.

His back is to me, and oh what a back…

It’s toned and still tan from the summer, and the muscles bunch as he tugs the shirt up over his head and throws it.

I should probably leave, or maybe help him get another shirt.

But I stay motionless as he stands bowed over the dresser, his hair tumbling down in the front where it’s longer.

His hand is white-knuckling the edge of the wooden dresser.

This is one of those times when he needs music, but right now he’s in no condition to wield his sticks.

I move toward him, one step after another, the need to go to him overwhelming every other doubt.

I place my palm on his lower back, feeling his taut muscles and the delicious heat of him. “Whatever you’re doing to yourself, you need to stop. Now . Hannah’s orders.”

He turns toward me, but there’s no sign of surprise when he sees me there. Even though I’d never do anything with him when he’s like this, I feel a rush of awareness. There’s something primal about him tonight, just like there was last night. All of the gentlemanly nuances have been stripped away.

“Please don’t be nice to me right now,” he says. “I couldn’t take it.”

I almost laugh, but I can’t, because there’s a dark, haunted look in his eyes.

He stumbles a few steps toward the bed, then sits down hard at the foot of it and bows his head, his hands spearing into his dark hair.

He’s wearing nothing but a pair of dark jeans, belted at the waist, and those loafers I’ve teased him about.

He looks like a fallen god.

I sit on the floor in front of him and remove his loafers one at a time. When I look up, he’s staring at me with that same fevered intensity.

“I asked you not to be nice,” he says.

“God forbid I help a drunk person take their shoes off. You know I spent years working at Big Catch. Helping drunk people with their shoes is basically second nature. Would you like me to take your pants off too? I know from experience that I’ll appreciate the view.”

He smiles for half a second, which I consider a victory. “No, this isn’t how I’d like that to happen again.”

Heat flashes through me, because at least some part of him wants it to happen again. And he’s looking at me in a thirsty way that suggests I’m the only thing that could possibly satisfy him.

“Then you should take them off,” I say, making no move to leave. “I’ll stay to make sure you don’t fall over and hit your head. Now, that would be an embarrassing ER visit.”

“You want to watch me take off my pants?” he asks, more of a challenge than a question.

“Yes. I watched you last night, and I really enjoyed it. ”

He lowers his hands to the belt and unfastens it with careless ease. I can hardly breathe as I watch him, desire prickling across my skin. His hand misses the button on his pants on his first try, and I turn away, because suddenly it feels wrong for me to be here.

“I thought you were going to watch,” he says, his voice ragged.

“And I suddenly remembered you’re drunk. It would be inappropriate, even for me.”

I hear the fabric rustling as he pushes his pants down. I want to look, I’m desperate to look, but I say, “Get under the covers, Travis.”

“Are you going to tuck me in?” he asks with a husky laugh.

“Yes, but first I’m getting you Pedialyte and Tylenol. What kind of beer did you drink?”

He moans. “The lager.”

“That’s good. Hangovers from the dark beers are much worse. Especially Liam’s. He doesn’t like porters, so I think he does it on purpose. I’ll be right back.”

There’s another rustling sound, so hopefully he’s pulled up the sheets, and I leave the room to get the goods.

When I return, he’s lying nestled in those dark silk sheets, his head resting on the pillow, his hair pushed back to reveal the heart birthmark.

My own heart swells.

I set the Pedialyte and pills down on his bedside table, then sit on the edge of the bed and run my fingers down the side of his face.

He opens his eyes and lifts his hand toward me, playing with one of my curls as it spills down toward him. “Thank you for staying with Ollie. I knew he’d be safer with you than with me today.” He pauses. “I’m a bad father.”

“You would have been a bad father if you’d come home and gotten wasted in front of him. Plenty of dads do. My dad’s a good guy, mostly, but he drank plenty of that beer he and Liam made while he was at home watching the three of us.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Hannah. Being Ollie’s dad is the most important thing to get right, and I keep messing up.”

“He’s doing great,” I say, tracing his face again, letting my fingertips get lost in his hair.

“Because of you. You’re so good with him. I could watch you together all day. You make it look so easy to make him laugh and smile, but I don’t know how to do it. I’m no good at this.”

“Okay, stalker,” I tease as I keep running my fingertips through his hair. “You seem determined to be hard on yourself. Even more so than usual. Feel like telling me why?”