Page 63 of The Jack*ss in Class

“Right.” She slugged me in the arm.” Well, you should know that even if you do get your heart broken or something, you’d survive, you know?”

Why was Jules The Kickass being so gentle with me right now? It was totally unnerving me.

“Just like Dad survived Mom dying.”

The brush stilled in my hand.

Did he?

We didn’t talk about Mom often, especially not like this.

“Low blow, Jules.”

“Not a blow. An observation.” Her voice softened. “I just think maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you let someone in. Especially someone who looks at you the way she does when she thinks no one’s watching.”

My head snapped up. “How does she look at me?”

Jules’s smile returned, smug now. “Like she’s trying really hard not to look at you at all.”

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed with a text from Dad.

Dad: On my way with the food. Gryff joining. Drills at 2.

I showed Jules the text. “Dad’s bringing lunch. You sticking around?”

“Nah.” She hopped off the fence. “I really do need to find my purple Converse. I’m meeting friends at the library.” She started toward the house, then paused. “Flynn?”

“Yeah?”

“That donkey needs a name. A real one. It’s weird calling him ‘the donkey’ all the time.”

I glanced at our four-legged friend who was now contentedly munching on the hay I’d laid out. “I’ve been trying to guess his name for weeks. Tempest won’t tell me.”

“Maybe she hasn’t named him yet.” Jules tilted her head, considering. “He seems like a Fernando to me.”

“I already suggested that.” I grinned. “Along with about fifty other names.”

“Well, keep trying.” She gestured between me and the donkey. “You two have a lot in common. Both stubborn as hell and in desperate need of Tempest’s attention.”

Christ, she knew me way too well. “Hilarious.”

“I know.” She blew me a kiss and disappeared inside, leaving me alone with a nameless donkey and thoughts I wasn’t ready to examine too closely.

By the time Dad returned with enough sandwiches to feed his defensive line, I’d finished reinforcing the donkey’s pen, patched the hole in the fence he’d somehowcreated overnight, and was working on a more secure gate latch.

“Looks good.” Dad surveyed my handiwork, handing me a bottle of water. “Though I still expect those combine drills done this afternoon. Lots of teams are interested in the two of you this year.”

I always assumed we’d somehow both get drafted to the Mustangs like every Kingman before us.

“Yes, sir.” I took a long drink. “Sorry about the herbs.”

He shrugged. “Plants grow back.” He watched the donkey, who was now napping in a patch of sunlight. “Interesting girl, that Tempest.”

I nearly choked on my water. “You talked to her for all of two minutes.”

“Sometimes that’s all you need.” He leaned against the fence. “She reminds me of your mother.”

The comparison startled me. “How?”

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