Page 72 of The Jack*ss in Class

Music and laughter spilled from the house. Cars lined the driveway and street, confirming that “small family gathering” meant something similar to the Navarros as it did to the Kingmans. Nothing small about it. Which was exactly the way I liked it.

I parked and Tempest emerged from the house. Something in my chest tightened. She wore a green dress that made her dark eyes shine, but her smile didn’t quite reach those eyes. She looked beautiful, but guarded, like she was bracing herself.

“You’re here,” She hurried over, her relief evident as she peered into the trailer. “And our favorite troublemaker made it okay?”

“He’s raring to go.” I smiled, drinking in the sight ofher. Her nervous flutter made me want to wrap her in my arms and help still whatever had her on edge.

Her shoulders relaxed slightly. “Abuela’s more excited to meet him than you, no offense.”

“None taken. I know my place in the hierarchy.”

A curvaceous woman with dramatically styled silver hair, and I swear to god, wearing one of those golden age of movies feather-lined filmy robe things, emerged from the house, followed by what had to be a dozen family members of various ages. She wore enough jewelry to open a small boutique, and her commanding presence made it immediately clear who was in charge.

“¡Ay, Dios mío! ¡Ahí está! ¡Mi burrito precioso!” She practically floated down the steps, hands clasped in delight.

“That’s my abuela, Estrella Ramirez,” Tempest whispered, straightening her posture as if preparing for inspection. “Also known as AbuelaNovela.”

Abuela Estrella reached the trailer and peered inside, her expression one of pure joy. “Qué lindo. Tempest, mi amor, es perfecto. Exactamente como dijiste.” She turned to me, eyes twinkling. “And you must be the footballer who rescued him.”

“That’s me.” I extended the flowers I’d brought to her, which she took with a twinkle in her eye.

“Very nice arms. May I?” She reached out and squeezed one of my biceps. “Tempest, no me dijiste que era tan guapo.”

I caught enough Spanish to understand I was being assessed, and that Tempest had apparently neglected to mention I was “tan guapo”— so handsome.

“Gracias, Señora Ramirez,” I replied, offering a slight bow. “Es un placer conocerla.”

Abuela’s eyebrows shot up, and Tempest’s mouth actually dropped open.

“Habla Español.” Abuela clapped her hands in delight. “Tempest, why didn’t you tell me he speaks Spanish?”

“I didn’t know,” Tempest said, looking at me with new eyes.

I shrugged. “Just the basics. Been taking it since high school. This is Denver, lots of Spanish speakers, seemed dumb not to learn.”

“Humilde y inteligente,” Abuela nodded approvingly, and handed the flowers to Tempest. “I like him already.”

With everyone’s help, we lowered the trailer ramp and guided the donkey down. Baby donkey, perhaps sensing he was the center of attention, stepped fully down the ramp, lifting his head with the dignity of visiting royalty. The crowd let out a collective “aww” as he surveyed his new domain.

What happened next was like watching love at first sight in an old movie. Abuela stepped forward, her hand extended palm out exactly the way Tempest had done the first time she stopped the runaway donkey. The animal looked at her, ears perked forward, then slowly approached, pressing his soft muzzle into her palm.

“Mi corazón,” she whispered, her free hand coming up to stroke between his ears. “Mi alma pequeñita.”

The donkey leaned into her touch like they’d known each other forever, making soft snuffling sounds of contentment.

Abuela’s eyes misted over as she wrapped her armsaround his neck. “Oh, mi precioso. My sweet, sweet boy.” She looked up at Tempest. “You were right. He is special. Wait until Leo meets him.”

“I told you,” Tempest said softly, watching the two of them with obvious affection.

Finally, Abuela turned to address the gathering with the flair of a ringleader announcing the main act. “Everyone, meet the newest member of our family. My beautiful boy. Mi Burrito Petito!”

The crowd cheered as the newly christened Burrito Petito tossed his head, acknowledging his new name.

“Burrito,” Tempest repeated, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Why didn’t we think of that?”

“Wait. Are you telling me all that time I was guessing epic donkey names, you hadn’t given the poor slob an actual name?”

Tempest shrugged and gave a small chuckle, watching as family members began introducing themselves to Burrito Petito as if he were a visiting dignitary. “I couldn’t decide on anything.”

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