Page 33 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
With practiced ease, Libby pressed her free hand to the ground, then gently lowered her legs and came to her feet.
“What’s the catch?” he asked, ignoring the yoga nutter showoff.
“You run the nine-mile race with a donkey. That’s why it’s calledAss-in-Nine.”
He cocked his head to the side and stared at the police chief. The woman’s expression remained muted, but she had to be kidding. “A nine-mile running race with a donkey. That’s an actual thing here?” He turned to Libby, who looked just as perplexed as he was.
“It celebrates Colorado’s mining roots,” Madelyn supplied.
He stared at the stylish woman. Now, she was an expert on donkey racing, too?
“I remember learning something about this when I was in elementary school,” Libby added. “It’s called pack burro racing, right? The donkey carries mining equipment.”
“You remember correctly. It’s our state’s heritage sport,” the chief answered.
Heritage or not, this race sounded absolutely insane.
“Why don’t they make you run with a bar of gold or silver or whatever miners mine in this place?” he blathered.
The chief peered at him. “That’s not how the race is structured, Mr. Cress.”
“So, you want me to run a race with a donkey and an ass?” Libby clarified.
He turned to her. “No, plum, it’s you and me and a—”
Bugger! This was not the time to come off a thick prat.
“Very funny,” he said under his breath.
But he had real questions. Did donkeys even run? When he pictured a donkey, which he didn’t often do, he thought of them as slow, meandering animals. How do you get one of them to sprint on command?
“It’s quite a challenging endeavor. You’ll need several weeks to prepare. But you both appear to be in tiptop condition. Excellent candidates, Madelyn,” the chief answered when someone knocked. The chief pointed at the closed door. “Is that the second part?” she asked the matchmaker.
“There’s a second part to this? And I’m not sure I can commit to weeks of donkey training. I’ve got a fight coming up,” he rattled off.
“That’s right, you’re a big deal in the boxing world,” Libby crooned.
“Yeah,” he answered, feeling like the bloody opposite of a big deal.
“There’s no reason to fret about your upcoming fight,” Madelyn began. “We’ve considered everything and found a lovely home for you to rent in Rickety Rock that can accommodate the equipment you need to train. My people are preparing your lodgings as we speak.”
She had to be kidding!
This fight was his make-or-break moment to prove he was still the best. He didn’t have a second to waste, and he certainly didn’t have time to run around the mountains with a donkey in tow.
His mobile chimed an incoming text, and it dawned on him that he had another problem. “What about the media? The little misunderstanding between myself and Libby must be streaming on social media by now.”
“We can address that. Come in, gentlemen,” Madelyn called.
The door opened, and bloody Briggs and Augie sauntered in.
“Aug?” he said, staring at the man.
“Who are these people?” Libby asked.
“Augie Bimston and Briggs Keaton. They work for me,” he answered as the men nodded to Libby.
“This is Libby Lamb,” he said. “She’s…”
