Page 35 of Worst Nanny Ever
She looks at me as she lifts her bottle to her pink lips, wrapping them around the opening. I watch as she drinks deeply and then lowers the bottle. She gestures to the other beer. “Live dangerously, Travis.”
I’d like to pull her to me and taste the beer from her lips.
This attraction is becoming…uncomfortable. While she was off-limits before because of her friendship with Sophie, now she’sextraoff-limits.
By Norland College standards, Hannah Moroney might be the worst nanny ever, but she’s exactly what Ollie needs, exactly what both of us need, and I’m not going to endanger that. Not for anything.
Especially not for sex, even though I’m certain it would be incredible.
I shift away from her slightly. “Thank you for getting Rachel to take down that post, by the way. I should have thanked you sooner.”
She smiles mischievously at me. “I have my ways. And you’re welcome. She messed with the wrong nanny.”
“So it would seem,” I say with a laugh. “I’m still getting the odd message accusing me of being an asshole, but it’s possible it’s related to something else.”
“Oh, you’ll always get those,” she says, bumping her shoulder against mine. “Now, try the beer so I don’t have to die alone if it’s poisoned.”
I lift my eyebrows. “You make a terrible argument.”
“I was president of the debate club.”
I twist the cap off and take a sip. The beer is smooth and delicious with a note of citrus. “Not a bad way to potentially die.”
“I’ll recommend that to Liam as the name.” She studies my face, her eyes lingering above my hairline, and without a thought, I lift my hand to rearrange my hair.
“I don’t know why you always try to hide it,” she comments. “It’s fascinating.”
“I hate it,” I say more vehemently than I intended—but Idohate it. It’s always felt like a defect. A sign that I’m not what I’m supposed to be.
“It’s in the shape of a heart.”
“Doesn’t make me like it any better. My mother used to make me spend an hour in her makeup chair before every event so it could be covered up with foundation.”
Hannah’s eyes light up with rage. “I’m a makeup artist, and I’dnevercover it up. Never. They’d have to kill me first.”
My lips curl up higher. “Who would give you an ultimatum between covering up my birthmark and death?”
She shocks me by reaching over, beneath my hair and tracing it—just one finger, the slightest touch, but it vibrates through me.
“A true sadist,” she says, pulling her finger away.
My eyes hold hers for a moment too long before I look away. “I guess. So are we finishing this terrible movie or what?”
She stares at me in shock. “You really want to watchShips Ahoywith me?”
“Not really, no. But it amuses me that you like it. Maybe you can help me see it through new eyes.”
“Seriously?” Enthusiasm hums off her in an electrical cloud. Damn, I’d like to absorb it. To become an energy vampire so I can taste her excitement.
Of course, that puts an intrusive thought in my head about other ways I could taste her excitement, but I bury it and hand her the remote. “Do the honors, Hannah. I have a feeling I’m going to need this beer.”
She watches me with a playful glint in her eyes. “You’re surprising.”
“I thought I had a drumstick shoved up my ass.”
She lifts her eyebrows. “I’ve never said that in front of you.”
I laugh. “You’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are. Now, what part were you watching?”
