Page 60 of Smart@ss Cyborg

Auction workers are moving thetwenty-five (!!) donkeyspacked into the pen into a holding area.

Becky pulls away enough to meet my gaze. “Think how happy Paco will be,” she says with an endearingly mischievous smile.

I feel her happiness melt something in my heart.

With a grunt, I move my gaze back to the herd we evidently agreed to purchase. My ire melts away. “Well, I’ll say this. The bid I didnotmake isn’t a terrible price. After all, I paid more for Paco. Technically, these work out to be far more affordable animals.”

“No,” C’vest says grimly. “That bid you made wasper animal.In a lot of twenty-five. They’ll want the credits before you leave.”

“WHAT?!!” I shout.

Before I can topple over from the shock, C’vest offers, “If it helps, those aren’t just any donkeys. Those are Mammoth donkeys. And while Stella would have been delighted with a standard donkey like your Paco, I’d be pleased to have a mount sized like any of those. If you don’t want them, we’ll buy them.”

Stella hugs her husband, a thrilled squeeze. “Thank you!”

He caresses her back and gives her smoldering eye contact that makes her cheeks heat and arousal rhythms increase in her brain.

When she recovers herself, she shares with us, “Ever since meeting your Paco, I’ve been asking C’vest if we can get a couple donkeys.” Her smile splits into a grin. “Now we’re getting a herd.”

Glancing away from the couple, Becky bites her lip.

Watching her brain, I cup her chin and ask, “What are you thinking?”

She tries to avoid my eyes as her shoulders rise in a shrug. “Let me have Mattie,” she starts to say.

“In a moment,” I assure her. “First, tell me what you’re thinking.”

Shooting a guilty look at Stella, then another at me, she admits, “I was kind of excited. I want some more donkeys too.”

I pass our daughter to her. “How many do you want?”

***

We buy two donkeys from C’vest and Stella.

Becky names them before we even manage to fit them with halters. Clementine and Fern.

They’re very nice animals, with such biddable dispositions that they follow me without complaint or resistance all the way to the hitchingpost where we parked, then over to the hitching post where C’vest is tying his string of stately donkeys to his wagon.

Stella and Becky are seated atop it, holding our children, chatting amicably.

“Something wrong?” C’vest asks, looking at Fern and Clementine.

“Yes,” I confirm. “As you know, we’ve been teaching Paco to drive. We drove him to this auction.”

“You need a ride home?” C’vest guesses.

“We do,” I confirm. “He chewed through his lead rope. Several people said they saw a donkey trotting out of the parking lot with an empty wagon, headed in the direction of our ranch. I expect he’s at home now. No doubt he’s broken into the tack room and he’s eating all the chicken feed. Again.”

C’vest jerks his head to his wagon. “Welcome aboard.”

I tie up our jennies and move to seat myself beside my wife and daughter. I kiss them both on the top of their heads.

“Are you mad?” Becky whispers as C’vest joins us and begins carefully backing their wagon out of its spot, forcing the string of donkeys to collectively back up as well.

“I’m disturbed,” I reply, and lean in to drop a kiss on my wife’s nose. “Because either in spite of his antics—orbecauseof them—I really like that little smartass.”

Helplessly, Becky grins. “Me too. I’m so happy we got more!” She leans into me, pressing herself against me in a way that makes my body stir. She lowers her voice, very obviously meaning her words for my ears alone when she whispers, “You’ve racked up so many brownie points, Mr. Cody. Tonight,Iwant to be the one to serviceyou.”

C’vest coughs, perhaps a polite reminder that he can hear us.

Or perhaps he’s remembering The Brownie Points Incident that happened about a month ago, when he and Stella visited our shanty. There was some confusion when Becky announced she was making brownies and I stood up from the table and unzipped my pants.

Now I’m gripping tightly onto the handrail and my wife, thinking we can’t get home fast enough.

Smirking, C’vest curls his arm around his own wife and clucks to his horse, and we move for our homestead with an entire herd of smart asses following behind us.

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