Page 30 of Smart@ss Cyborg

I flounder for words for a moment. “Do mates not court one another? Isn’t that the point of taking a mate?” I look at her. “To take on the responsibility of courting them for the rest of their days?”

She blinks. “Some couples… date. Like date nights…”

I latch onto this offering. “How do I date you? I have brought you the finest kill that I could take down in order to demonstrate how highly I value you. I know that you do not enjoy the scent of my preferred sea meats and because I wish to provide well for you, I thought bringing you this land-bound Oryx for your meat,” I gesture to it, “would prove how I prize your happiness and comfort.” I feel the corners of my mouth tug downward with my internal dismay. “But searching your mind’s mechanics, there is no indication that you connect my caretaking with courting affection, let alone love.”

“Love?” Becky croaks.

Nodding, I move to Paco’s other side.

Becky watches me, alternating between wringing her hands and holding her stomach, her brain in turmoil.

I sigh. “This morning I was so moved by your gesture to make me yet another seafood meal that I wanted to kiss you. But you didn’t enjoy my attempts to affectionately caress you, so I gathered that you would not welcome my kiss.”

Becky goes still.

“I thought perhaps I could do the dishes for you. The smell of my meal was very strong on them so I knew it would be unpleasant for you to wash them, and you have washed all of our dishes thus far. I wanted to take up the task and contribute to our dwelling rightness with thisdaily chore, but you guarded the sink contents and sent me from the kitchen with aggression.”

I’ve reached Paco’s neck, and I finish out my currying task in confident, careful strokes. Hanging up the brush, I frown at the wall hooks as I tell my mate, “You alone hold the power to evoke my interest—sexually and affectionately.” I look over at her. “Caretaking also. I don’t patrol this farm simply because it’s my territory. I do it to ensure that the borders that house you are safe. So that you will never again be harmed by a wandering aggressor. Is this the only way you will accept courting affection from me? You only want me as your territory guardian?”

Hands smoothing anxiously over her belly, Becky is watching me with an intense expression on her face. A strange one. “I’m…” Her mouth works. Her eyes are very blue. “No. William… I’m—I’m sorry I didn’t… Thank you. For showing me you care about me.”

Her words soothe me. Yet they also cause a sharp sensation to dig into my emotions. Emotions that I don’t begin to know how to detangle and identify. Dropping my gaze, I move to Paco’s lead rope and untie it from the stall bars. I begin to walk away with the intention of drawing him out of the stall so that I can turn him loose in the paddock, but the moment the barest tension begins to turn the rope taut, it pulls from between his lips and falls to the ground.

Turning, I look down to confirm what I know about the lead rope’s fate.

It’s been chewed clear through.

Short brushy-ended tail wagging, shaggy ears rotating to focus on my position, Paco spits out the scant remaining amount of rope that had been stuffed in his mouth. Covered in spittle, it swings from the clip that’s still affixed to his halter’s ring under his chin.

I watch it for a moment. Then I raise my eyes to his.

His are twinkling.

“HEEEEEEEEEEE!”he explodes, deafening me—and Becky too, judging by the way her hands fly up to cover her ears as Paco’s bray reverberates around the stall walls. “HEEE! HEEE! HEEE!REEEEE!”

Knowing that if I raise my hand now, Paco is likely to flinch, expecting to be struck—I opt to do something else. I step toward him.

Paco skitters back, startled.

But I catch him, closing my arms around his neck, and pat him with my hand.

He pulls back frantically for a moment, panicked.

His movements slow when he realizes that besides the hugging pressure and the pat I’ve given him, I’m not hurting him. His large head crests over my elbow, testing—allowing him to discover that my hugging grip isn’t tight.

He stops struggling entirely, body falling still. His ears—which had fallen flat—partially rise, telegraphing his confusion.

Meeting his eye, I inform him, “You're a pain in the ass, Paco. And you try my patiencemightily.”

He heaves a breath out of his nose, steaming my skin.

“But,” I go on, “I’m fond of you anyway. Somehow very much.” Scrubbing a hand along his neck, I continue to hug him to express affection.

Usually, scratching and patting behavior is a form of reward for a donkey.

Paco’s tail begins swishing.

He may not truly comprehend that I’m affectionately hugging his neck. A predator would exhibit much the same behavior when attempting to choke donkey prey to death, after all. But Paco is still receiving the message that he is doing well by holding still while I perform what is no doubt slightly worrisome, odd behavior by his reckoning.

---