Page 116 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
“I don’t—” she began, her eyes trained on the ground.
“Say it,” he rasped, his heart in his bloody throat.
She cocked her head to the side and swiped the rain from the apples of her cheeks. “I don’t know which way the donkeys went. Their trail ends here. You see, the path changed. There’s not as much mud and gravel. It’s too rocky, and there are so many pine needles on the ground, I can’t make out if they stayed on the main trail or took the offshoot.”
Beefcake and Plum.
The bloody donkeys!
With the thought of her with Zen Dougie dominating his mental capacity, he’d nearly forgotten they were on a donkey rescue mission.
Buck up and focus!
He studied the trail. She was right. There weren’t any hoof prints past this point nor the winding line from the donkeys’ leads.
He peered down the two trails. “The donkey knows,” he whispered.
“Did you say what I think I heard you say? The donkey knows?” Libby shielded her eyes from the rain, staring at him like he’d sprouted donkey ears.
He shrugged. “I’m trying to do what Maud and Bob told us—you know, channel the donkey. The donkey knows.”
“Do you know which way they went?” she pressed skeptically.
“No, but I’m trying to think like a donkey.”
“That shouldn’t be difficult for you. You’ve got acting like an ass down pat,” she murmured.
He’d walked into that one. And blimey, she was properly pissed off at him.
Bloody brilliant.
He wasn’t walking sunshine either.
He needed a pithy retort—something that could counter her sharp wit, but before he could get a word out, the bray of the donkeys floated through the air.
She stilled, and the irritation in her gaze vanished as another round of donkey noises cut through the blustery rain and wind. “Did you hear that, Raz?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“The sound came from this way. They’ve left the main trail, but we’ve got to be close,” she said, setting off down the narrow path.
He followed a few paces behind her as the trees grew thin and a rickety barn emerged on the edge of the slope. It had to be abandoned. Several planks from the roof were missing from the sun-bleached shelter, and the door was nowhere to be found.
“I see them. They’re in the barn!” Libby called, sprinting up the side of the mountain. “Hey, Plum! Hey, Beefcake!”
He caught up to her, but as they approached the pair of burros, Beefcake let out a great shriek, baring his big teeth and maneuvering his massive body in front of Plum.
Libby took a step back. “I don’t think they’re happy to see us.”
He scanned the space. Weeds grew in the corners of the weathered structure, but that wasn’t what Plum and Beefcake were munching on. They’d stumbled upon something far sweeter. “They found a wild strawberry bush,” he said, craning his neck to see the ruby-red fruit amid the tangle of leafy greens.
The male donkey stomped his foot, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the loudmouthed beast. He knew a thing or two about putting on a puffed-up testosterone show. He met the animal’s eye. “We’re not here to interrupt your meal, Beefcake,” he said, taking a step toward the donkey with his hands raised. “But we can’t have you gallivanting around a mountain during a lightning storm.”
The creature’s fierce demeanor dialed back.
“That’s a good donkey. We’ll take this nice and easy.” He turned to Libby, who watched him with a curious glint in her eyes. “I’m going to get hold of Plum’s lead. It’s closer,” he said, gesturing with his chin toward the ropes resting on the ground amid the old planks.
She chewed her lip. “I don’t know if Beefcake will like that.”
