Page 52 of Worst Nanny Ever (Babes of Brewing #2)

CHAPTER THIRTY

TRAVIS

The hair continues falling down onto the sheet.

I didn’t know I had so much hair. But it’s hard to pay attention to it, because I can feel Hannah’s tits pressing against me, her fingers gliding over me.

Even the feeling of her scissors slicing through my hair, cutting off the deadweight, is almost sensual.

Right now, I need her more than I need air.

Bixby’s betrayal keeps stabbing into me, bringing back those other betrayals. All the reasons I’d wanted to live my life quietly. But I don’t want that anymore. It was a desperate wish made by a hurting man.

I want to live my life loudly—to be someone Ollie and Hannah can be proud of.

No more hiding.

While I’m not about to wear a sailor suit and sing about the Good Ship Lollipop to get people interested in my band, I’m not going to cringe from who I am anymore. If I’d accepted that sooner, this would never have happened.

She climbs off her stool and circles back around to the front again, her breasts on display, and I can’t miss the opportunity to bury my face in them. I feel her laughing before she gives me a little push. “Come on, I need to see it from the front.”

A grin stretches across her face as I lean back, letting her look her fill.

“You are ridiculously good-looking,” she says, letting the scissors fall onto the sheet, and then climbs into my lap. I groan as my already-half-hard dick gets all the way there.

She kisses me and then kisses the birthmark on my forehead before rocking against me, her delicious heat hidden from me by her yoga pants and my jeans. Too many layers.

“I’m going to have to lay down the law at your shows, because there’s no way I’m letting women throw their unmentionables at you.”

“Last time it was a toy boat,” I say. “They clocked me in the birthmark, which you just made a clearer target.”

“If anyone tries to use you for target practice of any kind,” she says, moving her hips, “they’re going to have to get through me first.”

“Lucky for you, there probably won’t be any more shows,” I say darkly, still not wanting to think about it. I want to savor her for as long as I can. Until the reality of what happened bites me in the ass.

She grips my chin, lowering it so my gaze is glued to hers. “You listen right now. There will be.”

“Two people don’t make a band,” I say, wrapping my hands around her hips.

“So you’ll find two more.”

“We weren’t having much luck finding one more before we dropped Bixby.”

She sighs, burying her face in my chest, above the area where a massive bruise is forming, thankfully, and says, “Liam plays guitar, and I know he jams with his friends sometimes. He might be willing to sit in for a while. ”

“What?” I ask in shock.

“He’s pretty good,” she says. “You know I like to sing…”

“Yes…”

“We used to have this super lame family band when we were kids—Liam, Connor, my dad and me. We were the Moroney Movers and Shakers. It was my dad’s other way of bonding with us…you know, besides the beer thing. I almost hate to admit it, but there are videos.”

“Seriously?!” I say, laughing as I glide my hand up and down her back, pulling her closer. “Why have you been holding out on me? Don’t tell me you were embarrassed. You saw the Ships Junior videos. What could be worse than that?”

“Honestly? I figured you guys might be interested in bringing Liam into the band if you knew, and I was still pissed at him. But I’m not mad anymore, so yeah, I can talk to him. I bet he’d be willing to help you out for a while. Or point you toward someone else.”

“That’s great, but I also want to see these Moroney files,” I say, gripping her close. “I need them. It’s the only thing that will make me feel better.”

She bites my chest playfully, and I laugh, then stand up with her and swing her up over my shoulder. She shrieks as I carry her into the bathroom like that.

“What are you doing?” she asks, laughing.

“You cut my hair. The least I can do is wash you off.”

I stop in my tracks when I glimpse myself in the mirror.

“Wow,” I say.

I set her on her feet, barely recognizing my reflection in the mirror.

My hair’s not overly short, but it doesn’t hang in my face anymore.

The birthmark I’ve spent my entire adult life trying to hide is on full display.

I’m surprised by how much I don’t hate it.

By how good it feels to embrace the change.

“Do you like it?” she asks, her tone a little self-conscious .

I turn toward her, lowering my hands to the waistband of her pants. “I love it,” I say, pushing her yoga pants down. “But I love this even more.”

I turn the shower on, testing the spray with my hand, and Hannah gives me an indulgent smile. Probably because she always leaps in without testing the water first. So fuck it. I pull her under into the tub and under the still cold water, and she laughs and dances in it, even as it soaks us.

She’s breathtaking. Easily the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“Oh my God,” she squeals, “it’s freezing.”

But it’s already warming up, and I pull her to me, kissing her as the water rains down on us.

Kissing her like she’s my salvation. I slide my hand between her legs, feeling her there as the cold water heats up, steam clouding around us, and she gasps into my mouth even as she reaches down and finds my hard cock.

The feeling of her hand around me, squeezing my tip, is almost enough to make me come on the spot.

But I hold off. I need to come inside her.

She practically leaps up onto me, wrapping her legs around me, and I laugh into her mouth and back her into the wall.

There’s barely enough space in here for one person, but if we can make that storeroom work, we can make this work too.

She reaches down to adjust my angle, and I thrust into her as the water beats down on us.

My shorn hair is soaking wet, and her drenched curls are plastered to the sides of her face as she leans her had back, giving me the perfect angle to trail kisses down her neck as we move together.

My need builds, and I move faster as she tightens her legs around me, her fingers exploring my shorter hair and tracing the line of my back.

I feel her come around me, and I follow her two thrusts later, kissing her face, her lips.

Overcome with ecstasy not just because the sex is so good with her, but because I’m with her.

Because she loves me. My body hurts where Bixby bruised me, and my soul hurts worse, but she’s helping me heal it.

I already feel a thousand times better than I did at The Missing Beat this afternoon.

I feel hopeful. With her love, I feel like I can do anything.

“I promised to wash you,” I say.

“I can definitely wash myself,” she replies, her expression amused.

“Obviously, but I’m asking for the privilege.”

The wry humor fades from her face. There’s something bare and open about her expression as she nods. “Yeah, okay.”

I slowly wash her body, getting half hard already, and then her hair, following her instructions, making her laugh with my ineptitude with curly hair.

“I’ll learn,” I say.

And she looks up at me with love in her eyes and says, “I know you will.”

We follow the trail of our discarded clothing back to the living room, getting dressed as we go.

Once we’re put back together, I pull her against me, meeting her gaze.

“It’s probably too late for me to go pick up Ollie.

I’d like it if you’d spend the night at my house with me.

It’s closer to Dottie’s house, and we can go pick him up together in the morning and drop him off at school.

Maybe you’ll get a chance to say hello to your new favorite teacher. ”

She wraps her hand around my arm, her eyes lighting up. “Travis, I didn’t tell you.”

I smile, because I love her enthusiasm about everything. “What?”

“Mrs. Applebaum is meeting Eugene on Friday at Big Catch. She seems excited about it.”

“I’ll play them ‘Blue River’ until my fingers bleed.”

“God, I love you,” she says, getting on her toes and wrapping her arms around me.

“I love you too.”

“What will Ollie think about us?”

“He already knows how I feel about you,” I say with a grin, “and he told me he doesn’t mind if we’re friends too. I think he’ll be happy. But there’s something I have to do first.”

“Oh yeah?” she asks, giving me a quick kiss.

“I’m going to need to watch those videos of the Moroney Movers and Shakers while I fold your clothes.”

I forward the videos of the Moroneys to Rob, who needs a reason to smile too.

It’s both adorable and hilarious to listen to Hannah sing about the importance of brushing your teeth daily.

They were genuinely talented, and it makes me want to meet Connor and her dad.

Thanksgiving’s coming up quick, but maybe we can find a last-minute flight to Boston to join them for the holiday too.

Maybe Liam will come, too, and it can be a Moroney reunion.

We text Dottie, who confirms “dear Ollie” is already asleep after drawing star charts with her.

She insists she’ll have him ready for school in the morning, because fate “knew” he’d be staying over.

It turns out her grandson is exactly the same size, so he won’t need to wear today’s clothes tomorrow.

Hannah and I head back to my house and make love in my bed, slowly, thoroughly before falling asleep in each other’s arms. It’s been a turbulent day, full of really low lows, and impossibly high highs, and I’m toast.

But before our alarms are set to go off, someone rings the front doorbell—four times .

Hannah and I both sit up, immediately alert, and exchange a worried look. It’s a look probably all parents know: what if something happened to him? What if he’s not okay?

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” she says. “It’s probably a rude neighbor.” But she gets out of bed and opens my dresser drawer, throwing me a thermal shirt before she starts whipping on the change of clothes she brought.