Page 141 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
Sebastian closed his eyes, raised his arms, and touched his thumb to his index finger on each hand, creating a mudra. “You and me and my dad belong here with the donkeys. I’m making this my almost-seventh-birthday birthday wish slash intention. I’m bundling them together.” Sebastian squeezed his eyes closed like he was mustering up as much psychic energy as he could. “And one more thing, universe. I’d like to keep Mibby. If I had to put my intention wishes in order, I’d say I’d want Mibby, then Plum, then Beefcake. Beefcake’s last because he farts so much, but I still love him like I love Plum and Mibby. What do you think of my intention?” Sebastian asked, opening his eyes.
Libby swallowed hard, not sure if sweeter words had ever been spoken. But how was she supposed to answer? She’d fallen head over heels for the boy. It wasn’t hard. He was a terrific kid. Their connection had been immediate. The car ride over to the park had solidified her feelings for him. From that moment on, Sebastian Cress had occupied a place in her heart, but she didn’t have an answer to the what-came-next part.
“Mibby, what do you think? Do you think the universe heard it?”
She nodded, willing her eyes not to tear up. “I do.”
“And do you think that means we’ll stay together like we are now?” he pressed as his stomach rumbled.
Saved by the belly.
“I think this mountain biking has made you hungry,” she replied instead of answering. “And if I remember correctly, Maud mentioned there would be a hot dog tent in the square tonight.”
At the mention of food, Sebastian’s pensive countenance brightened. “Phoebe’s gonna go right bonkers over that.”
She tapped his nose playfully. “Yep, I think you’re right. It’s a good night for eating hot dogs.” It wasn’t as if she wanted to brush off Sebastian’s earnest intention or evade his question. It was that, despite knowing better, a piece of her heart wanted the same thing.
They continued down the trail quietly, listening to the gentle clop of Plum’s hoofs meeting the path.
“Hey, Mibby?”
“Yeah?”
“Why were my dad and Dougie racing? When they ran past me, my dad looked scary. He was making his boxer lion face, and Dougie was puffing his cheeks like he was giving it all he’s got.”
Another doozy of a question.
How was she supposed to answer this one?
In a quest to find my lost O, your dad and I are in a physical relationship to maintain the quality of my sexual response, and Doug is the final test to see if my O decides to stick around.
Um…there was no way she was dropping that explanation.
“A butterfly,” Sebastian remarked, and again, she was saved from formulating another answer.
Plum, bless her donkey heart, noticed the butterfly and tugged on the lead.
“Let’s follow the butterfly, Plum,” Sebastian suggested, getting back on his bike and pedaling beside the donkey as they picked up speed.
“Easy, girl,” Libby said, patting the Jennie’s neck. They’d gone from a meandering walk to a brisk running pace in a matter of seconds. She clucked her tongue, trying to get the burro’s attention, but Plum had locked in on the insect. A gust of wind thrust the butterfly forward, and the motion elicited an enthusiastic cry from the burro. They picked up more speed, chewing up the trail.
Left, right, left, right.
Libby concentrated on the rapid beat of her feet striking the ground.
Slow down.
“I’ve never seen Plum move so fast,” Sebastian called, pedaling furiously.
Neither had she.
She tugged on the lead, beckoning the donkey to slow down but to no avail. They flew down the trail, passing couples out for an evening walk. Gaining more and more speed by the second, panic flooded her system as they rounded a bend, and the lights from Rickety Rock’s town square came into view. Complete with a makeshift boxing ring for the night’s event, the place was packed with people milling around, securing their donkeys, and coming and going from the many food tents scattered on the periphery of the square when a realization hit.
If she didn’t get her donkey under control, their entrance wouldn’t be pretty. There was a good chance they’d careen into the crowd like a freight train.
She eyed the butterfly. “Fly away, little insect. Go find a nice flower.” She wasn’t one to wish harm on nature’s creatures. Still, she’d be A-OK with a crow swooping in and picking off this renegade butterfly riding the breeze like a fluttering kamikaze paraglider.
“Easy, Plum. Slow down, girl,” she called to the burro, her voice going up an anxious octave.
