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It didn’t take long before I was freezing, soaked, muddy, and helping Trixie load chickens into her hatchback.

She had a whole setup at home. A fancy coop she called the Millenhen Falcon that her fiancé had built her, though I’d never met the guy.

All I knew was that he apparently thought her hilarious obsession with punny chicken names was adorable.

“Come on, Hennifer Lopez,” Trixie cooed, somehow managing to cradle three chickens at once. “Your vacation home awaits. ”

I caught another escapee and passed it to her. “How many can you take?”

“As many as needed.” She settled the chickens into their makeshift travel crates. “Luke Skycocker and the girls will love having company.”

I trudged back to my car, remembering I still needed to tell Maria about the donkey’s social media debut.

She was by the fence, still on the phone, but now arguing with someone about emergency foster placement.

“No, I understand your process, but I have thirty-seven animals who need—yes, I know you require home visits, but?—"

Baby donkey chose that moment to let out a tiny bray from the back of my SUV. Maria glanced over, then did a double take at his wings.

I opened my mouth to explain, but she just waved a tired hand. “Whatever you need to do, honey. I trust you. I’ve got to figure out where to put these sheep and—no, sir, I am not being unreasonable.”

She hurried off toward a new crisis, leaving me standing there with a baby donkey who needed a place to stay and absolutely no plan whatsoever.

I looked back at him. He looked at me, those big brown eyes somehow even bigger than usual.

“Okay,” I sighed, climbing back into the driver’s seat. “I guess you’re coming home with me. Temporarily. Just until...” Until what? And honestly, where was I going to take him?

There was no way I was going to hide a donkey in a sorority house.

It only needed to be until the barn was fixed. But I had no idea how long that was going to be. I popped onto the sanctuary’s website and made a quick, but big, donation. My shiny new accountant said I could write it off.

I could take him...home. We had the space.

My sisters would freak, except Freddie, of course.

Until she had to scoop donkey poo. It wasn’t like I wanted to move back to Casa Navarro, even for a few weeks.

Not even for an adorably cute baby donkey.

I loved my family, but they were a lot. Especially when I was the odd middle sister out all the time.

Abuela wouldn’t mind watching baby donkey. Despite her glamorous telenovela star facade, she was the one who I inherited my love of animals from. But she wasn’t back for another few weeks.

Donkey stuck his nose between the front seats, his wings rustling.

The sorority house was totally not a good idea, but I’d have to figure out how to make it work.

“Don’t look so smug,” I told him, but I was already mentally calculating how many bales of hay I could fit in my room without our house mother noticing. “This is just temporary. And we’re taking those wings off before anyone sees you.”

He brayed again, softer this time, like he knew he’d won. Reminded me of a certain cocky football player I knew. Maybe I should drop baby donkey off with him and they could strut their stuff together.

I texted Parker from the parking lot behind the Kappa house.

Me: Need help. Don’t ask questions.

Parker: I’ve got the shovel and I know where we can stop to get columbines to plant over the body.

Me: Actually, do ask questions. Many questions. Like how much trouble we’d get in if we temporarily housed farm animals in our room.

Parker: ...

Parker: Is this about the FlipFlop donkey?

Parker: OMG IT’S ABOUT THE FLIPFLOP DONKEY

Parker: I’M COMING DOWN

One minute later, she stuck her head out our second-floor balcony instead. “Please tell me you have him.”

“Shh.” I glanced around the dark parking lot. “Yes. But we have a problem.”

“Only one?”

I popped open the back of my Lexus. Baby donkey looked up from where he was curled on the bed of towels, his wings now definitely crooked from the day’s adventures.

Parker’s eyes went wide. “He’s so much cuter in person. But also... bigger than I expected.”

“Yeah.” I ran a hand through my hair. “So about that...”

“Ladies?” A voice called from the front of the house. “Is someone out here?”

Mrs. Henderson. Our house mother. The woman who’d once written someone up for having one of those pretty blue Beta fishes and had developed a love of random room checks.

“Quick.” Parker tossed down a bright red rope. “Like we practiced.”

“We’ve never practiced this,” I whisper shouted back.

“Yeah, but I’ve been reading a lot of heist novels lately. Same principle.”

The donkey chose that moment to let out a tiny bray.

“Was that...” Mrs. Henderson’s voice got closer. “Is there an animal out here?”

I grabbed the rope and started tying it around the donkey’s middle, thanking every deity I could think of that I’d done that shibari class for research on my second book. “Parker, if you let him fall on me...”

“Please.” She disappeared from the balcony. A moment later, the rope started moving upward. “I once hacked the dean of students’ laptop for fun. I think I can manage some basic pulley physics.”

I steadied the donkey as Parker hauled him up, praying he’d stay quiet. He seemed more interested in watching the ground get farther away, his tiny wings fluttering like he was trying to help.

“Hello?” Mrs. Henderson rounded the corner just as Parker grabbed the donkey and they tumbled onto the balcony. “Miss Navarro? What are you doing out here?”

“Just...” I gestured vaguely at my muddy clothes. “Getting some things from my car. Volunteering at the sanctuary. You know how it is.”

She sniffed. “You smell like barn. ”

“Yes.” I tried to look apologetic. “I was going to shower right now, actually.”

“See that you do.” She gave me one last suspicious look before heading back inside. I swore that woman had it out for me this year.

I waited until she was gone, then sprinted for the side entrance. Taking the stairs two at a time, I burst into our room to find...

Parker sitting cross-legged on her bed, feeding the donkey what appeared to be her secret stash of fruit snacks.

“First of all,” I closed and locked the door, “those aren’t good for him. Second...” I looked around our small room. “Where is he going to sleep?”

“Already figured it out.” Parker pointed to the corner where she’d somehow constructed a makeshift pen using a random shower curtain rod, some command hooks, and what looked like every blanket we owned.

“The balcony can be his outdoor space during the day. No one ever looks up there anyway, and we’ll get some fake plants or something to block any lookie-loos.

And I’ve got three of my noise machines, white, brown, and pink noise, ready to rock to cover any suspicious sounds.

Ooh, this is the perfect excuse to get that sleep sounds app I’ve been wanting to try. ”

Never before had I been thankful Parker was an insomniac.

I stared at her. “You did all this in the five minutes it took me to get upstairs?”

“I told you. Heist novels. Well, actually romantic suspense. What’s a heist without a little smut, you know?” She scratched behind the donkey’s ears. “Also, I maybe already had some contingency plans in place. You know, in case we ever needed to hide something... or someone in our room.”

“Why would we ever need to—” I stopped. “You know what? I don’t want to know.”

The donkey had finished the fruit snacks and was now investigating Parker’s laptop, his tiny wings leaving glitter on her keyboard.

“So,” Parker grinned at me. “Want to tell me why we’re harboring a fugitive farm animal?”

I sank onto my bed, suddenly exhausted. “The sanctuary’s flooding. Everything’s chaos. Maria was dealing with emergency foster placements, and I just... I couldn’t let him get sent away somewhere.”

“Hmm.” She studied me for a moment. “And this has nothing to do with a certain bearded football player who spent his afternoon chasing said donkey across campus?”

“What? No.” I grabbed my shower caddy, needing something to do with my hands. “I barely know Flynn Kingman.”

“And yet you knew exactly who I meant.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “You know, this could make excellent research for your next book. Hot football player, secret donkey-sitting, forbidden?—”

“We are not having this conversation.” I headed for the door. “Just... keep him quiet until I get back. And no more fruit snacks.”

“Fine.” Parker was already pulling out her phone. “But we’re definitely talking about the fact that you’re blushing. Also, we need to name him something epic. Something that captures his true spirit of chaos and glitter.”

I left her scrolling through baby name websites, the donkey peering over her shoulder at the screen.

My donkey problems would have to wait. I needed to space to think, and the best place to do that was a long, hot destinkifying shower. Then I could come up with a plan, and possibly a miracle.

Behind me, I heard Parker’s delighted laugh, followed by the distinct sound of more fruit snacks being opened.

Make that definitely a miracle. Something like one of those Hail Mary passes.