Page 106 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
He rubbed his eyes. “I have a lot on my mind, Libby. Sure, rescue donkeys are brilliant,” he grumbled, which set off a charge of irritation prickling through her body.
Couldn’t he see his son’s excitement? Would it kill him to show an iota of interest in the boy’s passions? She stared at the man, anger simmering in her belly. If she had a vibrator, she would have thrown it at his thick skull. Yes, he had a fight, but that was one fight. It would come, and it would go. But his son was his forever. Could he not see that the boy adored him—idolized him? She knew what was in store for him if he continued to disappoint his child.
“Libby, Erasmus,” Maud called. “You need to be here when we open the doors.”
“We’ll give you some space and watch from the porch,” Luanne offered.
Augie nodded. “It’ll give me some time to go over your schedule before we start training out here.” He concentrated on Raz. “We’ve got to get your head in the game, mate.”
“Yeah, I hear you, Aug,” Raz answered as the frantic energy swirling around the man amplified.
What a pair they made! His chi was no more stable than hers.
“Dad, Libby, come on,” Sebastian called, hopping from foot to foot.
“Let’s get this over with,” Raz mumbled.
The infuriating beefcake!
The group gathered around the back of the trailer. Gentle stomps and muffled grunty brays drifted out of the metal enclosure. Anticipation hung in the air, sweet and expectant. Sebastian came to her side and took her hand, and she gave him a gentle squeeze.
“They want to meet us. You can feel it, too, can’t you, Libby?”
“I can,” she answered. It wasn’t a lie. There was a distinct pull between these animals and this place.
Wobbly Bob rested his hand on the latch of the trailer door. “Here’s how this is going to go. Erasmus and Libby, you’ll lead your pack burro out of the trailer. Plum is the gray Jennie, and Beefcake is the big brown Jack.”
“And where should we store the donkeys?” Raz asked.
Store the donkeys?
“It’s the three of you in the big house, right?” Bob tossed back, eyeing the giant Victorian.
“Yes.”
“Then you’ve got a couple of extra bedrooms.”
“You want us to give the donkeys actual bedrooms?” Raz shot back, wide-eyed.
“Oh, don’t take Bob too seriously,” Maud said, shaking her head. “The donkeys will stay in the barn. There’s a fenced-in area for the burros to move around and graze. We’ve got it ready for them. The feed schedule is tacked to the wall, and our donkey rescue volunteers will keep you stocked.”
“The donkeys are staying here with us?” Raz asked.
Wobbly Bob cocked his head to the side. “How else will you bond with them? It’s the most important thing a burro racer can do.”
“I thought we just ran with them,” Raz mumbled.
Bob gazed down the mountainside into the valley. “There’s a lot more to burro racing than running.”
“What more is there?” the man asked.
Wobbly Bob’s expression grew pensive. “The donkey knows.”
“The donkey knows what?” Raz repeated.
“Like your boy said, donkeys are smart animals. They’re your teammates in the burro race, and they’re also spiritual creatures. They understand what you need to do to be the best version of yourself. The trick is learning to listen.”
“That’s your area, right, Libby?” Maud asked. “You’re the spiritual advisor.”
