Page 17 of Tempting Wyatt (Triple Creek Ranch #1)

“Just the cattle. Horses get mostly grain and hay. But the ranch hands stay on top of that. We’re just checking to make sure nobody’s got a limp or a cut, injuries or hygiene issues that need tending to.”

He starts walking again, and I jog to keep up.

The horse pasture is even bigger than the previous one, stretching out toward the tree line, where the rolling hills of the ranch rise and fall like ocean waves.

A few horses graze in the distance, their coats gleaming in the midday sun, while others stand near the fence, ears pricked as we approach.

They watch us with quiet intelligence, dark eyes tracking us.

When a fawn-colored one moves closer, I lift my hand cautiously over the fence, unsure if I’m about to make a mistake. “Is he friendly?”

Wyatt shrugs. “He won’t bite.” Then, after a pause, “Probably not anyway.”

I’m about to ask him for the actual odds on a horse biting me when a sudden blur of movement catches my attention. Something small and scrappy barrels out from behind the horses and makes a beeline straight for us.

“What the—”

“Dammit, Jasper.” Wyatt sighs heavily, his brow wrinkling above the bridge of his nose like this is a headache he’s endured one too many times.

Jasper, as it turns out, is not a dog, as I first assumed.

Jasper is a donkey. A short, shaggy, wild-eyed donkey with a mind of his own and absolutely no concern for personal space.

He skids to a halt in front of us, his ears swiveling like radar dishes as he sizes me up.

“Aww. Who’s this little guy?”

“This,” Wyatt huffs out, clearly exasperated, “is the biggest pain in my ass on this ranch. No pun intended.”

“Until I got here, right?” I laugh, but Wyatt doesn’t look amused. “I take it he’s not supposed to be here?”

“He’s not supposed to be anywhere.” Wyatt folds his arms over his chest, eyeing the donkey like he’s about to start negotiations with a terrorist. “Jasper’s got a bad habit of slipping through fences, sneaking under gates, and showing up wherever the hell he pleases.

We’ve pinned him up more times than I can count, but it never sticks. ”

Jasper lets out a bray that is entirely too loud for his small size, as if he’s proud of his reputation. Then, without hesitation, he sticks his nose into my side and starts rooting around my jacket, like he’s looking for snacks.

“Whoa, buddy. Easy,” I say, stepping back.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Wyatt mutters. “He’s relentless. Probably thinks you’ve got treats on you.”

“I don’t.”

I pat my empty pockets for emphasis, but Jasper is unconvinced. He nudges me again, persistent and stubborn.

Wyatt shakes his head. “Go on, Jasper. Leave her be.”

I raise a brow at him as the donkey ignores him completely. “So he isn’t just supposed to have free reign of the land?”

Clearly, Jasper is under the impression the entire ranch is his domain.

Wyatt gives the overzealous animal a hard stare reminiscent of the one I received when I first arrived.

“He is not. He’s supposed to keep coyotes away from cattle in the outlying pastures.

Which he’s decent at because he’s loud, obnoxious, and territorial.

Nothing much wants to go near him. But then he roams, overeats the grass, which is not meant to be the main staple in his diet.

” He nods to a broken fence gate beside us.

“He also breaks shit everywhere he goes because he’s destructive like a toddler, if toddlers hulked out on everything they touched. ”

I try really hard to contain my smile. “If he’s such a problem, why haven’t you sold him?”

“Trust me, we’ve tried.” Wyatt scratches at his beard. “But he always finds his way back. Sold him to a neighbor once. He was back in our yard by morning.”

I blink. “Like a boomerang?”

I’m thinking Jasper might need a name change.

“More like a curse we can’t get rid of.”

Jasper brays again, louder this time, and I can’t help but laugh.

“I think he just has attachment issues.” I watch the animal prance proudly around Wyatt. “I think he loves you. Maybe play with him occasionally. Take him for walks.”

“I’ll get right on that.” Wyatt grumbles something I don’t hear under his breath and takes a step forward. “All right, you little menace, time to go.”

Jasper doesn’t move. If anything, he plants his hooves more firmly into the dirt, clearly deciding that this particular spot is now his.

Wyatt exhales again, the kind of weary, put-upon sigh of a man who has lost this battle before. “You wanna help me wrestle him back into his pen, or you just gonna stand there, laughing?”

I bite my lip to stifle another chuckle. “I’ll help. But just so we’re clear, if he escapes again, I say we just accept that he’s the rightful owner of the ranch.”

We spend the next fifteen minutes attempting to corral Jasper, which quickly proves to be an exercise in humility. The donkey ducks under Wyatt’s reach and zig zags around me like I’m a tree, and at one point, he outright kicks up his heels in defiance before making a break for it toward the barn.

“You said he wasn’t fast,” I remind Wyatt as we jog after him.

“He’s not. He’s just agile.”

Jasper, clearly enjoying himself, slows just enough for us to get close, then bolts again at the last second.

I throw up my hands and catch my breath while contemplating adding some cardio to my morning yoga routine. “This is ridiculous.”

Wyatt mutters something about donkeys being the Devil’s creation before finally outmaneuvering Jasper near the barn doors. With a firm grip on the scruffy animal’s halter, he leads him toward the smaller pen near the back.

“Okay,” he says over his shoulder, “go ahead and open the gate.”

I do as he says, swinging the wooden gate open and stepping aside. Jasper hesitates for only a second before trotting in, as if this were his idea all along. I quickly latch the gate behind him, dusting my hands off on my jeans.

Wyatt eyes the donkey like he’s waiting for him to make another escape attempt. “If he’s still in there by nightfall, I’ll be surprised.”

I lean against the wall beside him, feeling more at ease now than I did when we first started this whole ordeal.

“You know,” I say, glancing up at him, “for all your complaining, I think you like the little troublemaker.”

Wyatt scoffs. “Contrary to your romantic notions, Hollywood, I’m a busy man up to my neck in shit to deal with already. I don’t enjoy feisty rebels, who show up where they aren’t supposed to be, adding a bunch of extra bullshit to my day.”

Our eyes meet as we realize simultaneously that Jasper and I aren’t all that different. I work hard to hold in a comment that would only piss him off further.

But when Jasper lets out a triumphant little snort and Wyatt shakes his head with something that looks suspiciously like fondness, I can’t help myself.

“Oh, rancher, you don’t fool me. I see you. And I suspect today is about the most fun you’ve had in a long time.” I wink at him and turn to leave. “You’re welcome,” I call out, just before Jasper brays a goodbye at me.

Turns out my kindred spirit is a stubborn jackass. And I have a lot in common with the donkey, too.