Page 112 of Nanny for the Athletes

“Yes, you have.”

“I’ve been careful.”

“I don’t have time for this shit. That’s what Claire said to the lady from Social Services. And then Claire explained that she overheard Uncle Braden say that when Pickles wouldn’t do his business on a walk.”

Hearing his name, Pickles got up from the dog bed in the corner and rested his snout on my leg. I gave him some scratches behind the ear.

“That does sound like you,” Christian muttered.

“Heh. I guess it does.” Braden sighed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make it worse for you.”

“Honestly, it probably didn’t matter. I already blew the interview. She probably thinks I’m using child labor here at the kennel.”

“I mean, you kind of are,” Braden pointed out.

“Dude,” Christian snapped.

“What? I’m just being honest.”

“You’re being a little too honest tonight,” Christian replied.

“I appreciate the honesty,” I said. “When Claire first started coming here, I was happy that she got over her fear of dogs, so I let her help out a little. I never should have allowed it to turn into something she doeseverytime she stays here. I should have done a better job taking care of her, and helping her study.”

“That’s not on you,” Christian pointed out. “That’s on Logan for dumping his daughter here without warning.”

“The first time, sure. But since then…”

“Can we stop throwing blame around?” Braden said. “Let’s try to forget about this. We have enough problems to worry about right now. Our last game of the season is Sunday, and then we’ll probably be traded. Beth goes to court tomorrow afternoon to deal with her idiot ex-boyfriend. Am I missing anything?”

Suddenly I realized that I had forgotten to give them the other news: that the St. Louis Post-Dispatch was going to run a story about our unorthodox four-person relationship next week. That was the entire reason I asked the guys to come over tonight, but the visit by Kathy had wiped it from my focus.

“Oh man,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I think I feel a migraine coming on.”

Braden, who was sitting in the chair across from the couch, cocked his head. “You sound like you need a distraction.”

“Yes. Desperately.”

He glanced over at Christian, who smiled. “Is that how migraines work?” he asked. “You can get rid of them with…?”

“I’m willing to find out,” Braden said.

I didn’t realize what they meant until I noticed them looking at me hungrily. That look, coming from both of them simultaneously, was like a fire being stirred between my legs.

“Only if you want to,” Christian said. “If you have a migraine, we can give you a massage instead.”

“Or a massage… with our dicks,” Braden added.

In spite of everything, I laughed. And my migraine faded away. All of us were smiling now. Once again I thought about how lucky I was to have men in my life who lifted me up when I desperately needed it.

I’ll tell them about the journalist later,I thought.First, it’s time for some much-needed self-care.

46

Beth

I never outright told them that yes, I was interested in getting frisky tonight. I didn’tneedto tell them. After being together for several months, they knew me well enough.

Braden rose from his chair and joined me on the couch. His crystal blue eyes were intense as his hand caressed my cheek, fingers sliding to the back of my neck and into my hair. He kissed me slowly and passionately—more passionately than I was used to with him. Lately, Braden had been taking me rougher and faster than usual.

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