“Briggs said I should go into PR after you’re done with me as your spiritual advisor and Sebastian’s nanny. I assumed he’s got a plan for us parting ways. Am I right?”
He could feel the heat coming off her, or perhaps it was the frantic energy they created when their emotions ran hot—when he didn’t know if he should kiss her into oblivion or work out his frustration on the heavy bag, punching until his knuckles bled and his mind emptied of all things Libby Lamb.
“Briggs plans for everything. It’s his job.”
She stopped, standing on a large rock protruding from the side of the trail where the route broke off into two pathways. A slim stack of rocks was piled next to her as she pegged him with her fiery amber gaze.
He concentrated on the stones—the marker of the right path.
Too bad that didn’t translate into real life.
He didn’t know what the right path was supposed to be—only that he had to walk it alone.
“It’s settled,” she bit out. “Doug will be the benchmark guy. I’ll wait until after the Ass-in-Nine race to seduce him. He said he’s leaving for Tibet at the end of the summer. It’ll be a one and done.”
Was she serious?
Then again, this was entirely his fault. He’d offered up the flowing-haired yoga plonker.
He hardened his features. “Sounds like you have a plan.”
“I certainly do,” she shot back with the tiniest shake to her voice. It was subtle, but he caught it. Unable to reply, he stared at her as the rain cascaded down her cheeks. Her long wet hair hung past her shoulders in tangled waves. With the blustery sky and the rich greenery glinting in the rain, it was like staring at a woodland nymph. She parted her lips, and he couldn’t help but hope she’d take it back. It made no sense—knowing he couldn’t have her but not wanting her with anyone else was selfish and utter madness. Nonetheless, he wanted, no, needed her to reject the yoga cowboy.
Say you don’t want anyone else.
Say you don’t want to sleep with Zen Dougie.
“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.”
“What does he care what rope I pick up?”
She pressed her hand to her heart and closed her eyes. “I’m getting a vibe.”
“From the donkey?” he shot back.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she glared up at him. “Yes, from the donkey. Just like humans, animals can forge deep, spiritual connections.”
He glanced at Beefcake, currently sniffing Plum’s ass. “Yeah, I can see that,” he deadpanned. “But I think I’m good to grab hold of Plum’s lead.” He took another step forward, picked up Plum’s rope, then tugged. The gray Jennie released an alarming cry and tugged back, triggering Beefcake to dart toward him, baring those bloody giant donkey teeth.
“Raz, be careful!” Libby called.
He dropped Plum’s rope and raised his hands above his head.
This Beefcake was worse than any bloke he’d faced in the ring. But now, he understood the beast. Cooing and sweet talk wasn’t the way to make his point.
That’s not how beasts communicated.
He had to change tack. It was time for a meeting of the beefcakes.
He paced across the barn as the pound of rain against the roof slowed to a gentle pitter-patter. “All right, all right, I get it, Beefcake. You don’t want me messing with your girl, you wanker burro. I see where you’re coming from.” He caught Libby out of the corner of his eye. With her jaw nearly hitting the floor and her head cocked to the side, she observed as he bantered away with Beefcake like they were two chaps in a pub. A tingle ran down his spine. He liked having her eyes on him. He puffed up a little more, getting into character. “You see, mate, I can’t leave you here untied. You can eat the bloody strawberries. Your girl can, too, but I’m going to tie your lead to that post. Are we seeing eye to eye, Beefcake?” He glanced at Libby. “You want to add anything? Any vibe you’re picking up?”