Page 39 of Worst Nanny Ever (Babes of Brewing #2)

“There have already been lots of social media posts about the Ships Ahoy fans at the performance today,” he says, glancing away, a far-off look in his eyes.

“A reporter called me. Everyone knows.” He pauses.

“Frank, the producer who’s interested in the band, knows too.

He told Rob and Bixby we should lean into it.

He says he’ll pick us up if we go with it.

He doesn’t even care how Drake plays with us. ”

“Oh fuck,” I say, because he doesn’t need to tell me how much he hates that. I know it in my bones. This is Travis’s worst nightmare, descending on him in a bunch of poorly matched sailor dresses.

He turns back to face me. But when he meets my gaze again, he says, “Lilah’s going to find out and take him away from me.”

My heart goes supernova in my chest. This man’s worst nightmare is coming to pass, but he’s not thinking about himself—he’s worried about how it will impact his son.

I didn’t want to feel this way about Travis. I’ve tried very hard not to. But he’s making it difficult tonight, damn him.

“You’re a much better father than you give yourself credit for,” I say, smoothing his hair back. “And she’s already been gone for nearly sixty days. You have a stronger case than you think. Even if she steps off a plane in Asheville tomorrow.”

I’m not sure that’s true. I know next to nothing about the law, but I’m nothing if not determined. And I will not let Lilah use Ollie as some kind of bargaining chip to enlarge her bank account.

“Now, drink some of that Pedialyte so we can both go to sleep.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he says, trying to get up.

I wrap a hand around his thick bicep. “Nope. Not happening.”

His gaze darkens. “I’m not going to let you sleep on the couch. This is my screwup. You might as well sleep in here anyway. The pillows already smell like you. They always do.”

“They do?” I ask, surprised. “I’ve only been in here a couple of times. But I did hide under your covers once for hide-and-seek.”

“It’s been driving me insane,” he says with a groan. He reaches for the Pedialyte and takes a swig, following it up with the Tylenol I set out for him. The satin sheet pools at his waist, showing off his chest and arms.

I swallow against my suddenly dry throat, then take the Pedialyte from him and take a big gulp, very aware that his lips were pressed there before mine. Maybe it’s the closest I’ll get to kissing him again—a depressing thought if ever I’ve had one.

I set the bottle down. “If it’s driving you insane, why do you want more of my scent all over your bed?”

“Sometimes a man wants to be driven insane,” he says thickly. “I can’t sleep anyway. Stay with me, Hannah. I won’t touch you. I’ll just dream about it.”

“Shouldn’t I be promising you that?” I smile at him. “You’re the one who’s compromised. ”

“Stay,” he says, his gaze holding mine. “I don’t have any virtue for you to keep safe.”

I don’t believe that for a minute, but I get up and circle around to the other side of the bed before pulling the covers down and climbing in next to him.

“I thought you were leaving,” he says, shifting to face me.

“As if I’m not perfectly well aware that you’re one of those people who has a preferred side of the bed,” I say as I plump my pillow.

“What kind of maniac wouldn’t?”

“I don’t. The whole bed is mine. Why settle for less?”

He smiles at me, and there’s such hidden depths in that smile. I wish I had the ability to put it into words.

“You should never settle for less than you deserve.”

“I know. That’s why I’m working for someone who pays me an insane hourly rate for playing with a kid I’d play with anyway. You are aware that you’re basically paying me double the going rate, aren’t you?”

“You deserve it. You’re incredible. A natural with him. With everyone. Look at what you’ve done for Eugene.”

I laugh. “Yeah, I got him shit-faced, just like you.”

“You weren’t even there,” he says, giving me a small smile in return. “You may be the most badass woman I know, but I don’t think you have magical powers.”

“You say that like a man who wasn’t inside my magical pussy last night.”

Oops. Didn’t mean to say that.

He swears and rubs a hand over his eyes. “Maybe it was a bad idea to ask you to sleep in here.”

“Too late. You can’t ask me to leave now. It would be rude.”

“Pillows,” he mutters. “We need a pillow barrier. There’s at least two extra pillows we can use.”

I laugh, then laugh harder because I can tell he’s serious .

“You don’t trust me?”

“I don’t trust myself,” he says raggedly, grabbing an extra pillow from the floor and starting the barrier. I add another, our fingers brushing in a way that sends electric heat right to my magical pussy, and then we settle back into our places.

“Did your pillow barrier help your self-control?” I whisper, turning toward the very short wall.

“No.” His tone is morose. “I don’t think anything would at this point. I know what it feels like to kiss you. To be inside you. I can’t forget that, and I don’t want to.”

“Yeah, it would have been much better if you’d tasted like onions. Next time you kiss someone you’re not supposed to, eat a blooming onion first.”

“I don’t want to kiss anyone else.”

There’s no hesitation, no doubt, in his voice.

I tell myself that’s only because he’s drunk. But I’m pleased anyway. I want him to want me, because despite everything, I want him. I want him in a deep, desperate way, and attraction is only part of it.

I peek over the pillow barrier and prepare to ask him what’s probably an unfair question, because I suspect he’d never do this sober. “Travis?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you sing me to sleep?”

“You want me to sing to you?”

“I’ve never heard your voice.”

An inscrutable look crosses his face, and then he starts softly singing. The song is unfamiliar to me, but his voice wraps around me in an embrace as sensual as the black silken sheets.

“What song is that?” I ask after a minute.

“I wrote it about you.”

I reach across the pillow divide, my heart gushy and soft in a way that scares me, and he clasps my hand in his big, callused fingers.

“You scare me,” I admit.

“You terrify me.”

“Will you finish the song?”

I fall asleep to the sound of his voice, my hand nestled in his as if I’m something precious.