CHAPTER FOUR #2
We stayed there with Monarch for a few more minutes, then Tom led us to the next barn where the goats were. “Sometimes they interact with the donkeys and horses, but Pinata has been bothering them a lot. So they’re being kept separate from him for now. For their safety and his.”
“Did you name him Pinata?” Sam asked, which totally startled me since she never asked strangers questions—ever.
Tom nodded. “He came with the name Johnny. He is not a ‘Johnny.’ He is the inspiration for Pinatas. So that is why he is Pinata.”
I snorted a laugh. “I guess we know why he ended up here.”
All Tom could do was make a face of regrettable agreement and nod again. “I do not choose who comes here. If they need a home, they are welcome. Even the assholes.” He glanced quickly at Sam. “Oh, scusi. The jerks, I mean. I should not swear in front of children.”
Sam glanced at me and smirked. “Mom swears. So do my aunts.”
I cleared my throat. “Anyway.” I was about to say something else when a loud, obnoxious series of quacks interrupted us.
It definitely sounded like several ducks were telling each other—or someone else—off for swimming in their pond.
Tom tilted his head to the side for a moment, then alarm filled his eyes and he took off jogging around the goat barn to where a big pond with a small, man-made, stone water feature babbled gently in the corner.
Various aquatic plants filled the murky water.
The ducks continued to go crazy with their quacking, and now we all knew why.
Even the big white goose was honking and flapping its wings like a Karen at the customer service desk asking to see the manager.
A donkey—I guessed Pinata—was standing in the water at one end of the pond, and I could have sworn that guy was smiling.
“Pinata?” Sam asked.
“Si,” Tom sighed.
Portia followed him as he trekked over to Pinata, shooing the ducks and goose away.
Not bothering to take off his shoes, or hesitating for even a second, he walked right into the pond and started to push the donkey out of the water.
Only, that thing must have had some horse in it somewhere because it was mule-level stubborn and instead, started to back talk Tom.
Pinata was full-on hee-hawing at Tom as Tom attempted to remove the menace from the duck pond while the ducks continued to quack in protest and the goose seemed like it was going to have a heart attack from the stress of it all.
Portia stood back a little on the shore, one of the ducks right next to her, the two of them watching the chaos unfold.
“I shouldn’t laugh,” I said, smothering my mouth with my hand. “I shouldn’t laugh.”
My daughter giggled beside me. “This is hilarious though.”
“It is.”
“Should we help him?”
I glanced at her. “What would we do? Help him move the donkey?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. How do you move a donkey?”
For some reason, that question made a big laugh bubble up from my chest, and I had to spin around to hide my face in case Tom lifted his gaze to us.
I could barely hear it over the frenzied hee-haws, quacks, and goose honks, but I’m pretty sure Tom was swearing in Italian at the donkey as he drove his shoulder into the animal’s side in an attempt to get him to budge.
“We should help him,” I finally said, not sure exactly what I would do to help, but knowing I couldn’t just stand there.
I touched Sam’s elbow to encourage her to follow, and we made our way around the pond to where Tom was grunting and definitely swearing in Italian at the amused donkey. “How can we help?” I asked.
“Run … to my house,” he said, slightly out of breath and not bothering to look up at us. “Go … into the fridge. Get carrots. He will do anything for carrots.”
“You hear that?” I said to Sam.
Worry flickered in her eyes for a second.
Understandably, she didn’t feel comfortable going into a stranger’s house, but something wonderful came over her, and she nodded, then took off running.
We’d only been here a little under an hour and already this place was helping my daughter in ways I never could have imagined.
Pinata stomped his hoof several times, sending dirty pond water splashing up Tom’s jeans and soaking the front of his white T-shirt.
It was impossible not to notice the definition of his torso when the thin fabric clung to it like a second skin.
“Asino stupido,” he muttered, giving the animal one final shove before shaking his head and stepping out of the pond.
“Is this the first time he’s done this?” I asked.
Tom shook his head. “No. It’s been a while since he has though. He is a terror.”
Sam appeared with several carrots in her hands as she ran across the driveway toward us. She ducked through the fence, only slightly out of breath. Then, with her golden curls falling around her shoulders and a big smile on her face with her eyes bright, came to stand before us. “Here,” she said.
Like he could smell them, Pinata turned his head toward us and the carrots.
“That’s right, you testone. You want this?
You need to get out of the pond and stop pissing off the ducks.
” Tom waggled the carrots so the donkey could see, and Pinata turned around in the pond and sloshed his way out, his stretchy lips moving and showing off his enormous teeth as he tried to snag the dangled carrot.
But Tom kept moving backward, his shoes squelching with each step across the grass as he led Pinata away from the pond.
Once they were around the corner—Sam and I following in fascination—Tom gave Pinata one carrot.
He shook his head. “I feel like I am rewarding bad behavior. I didn’t give my son candy when he cut up a pair of my jeans to make his friend a skirt. He was disciplined. Why am I rewarding this … this idiota?”
Right! Tommaso had a son. Cameron did mention that. Where was he? How old was he?
Sam giggled. God, I loved that sound.
“There’ll never be a dull moment when you’re here, I’m sure,” I murmured to my kid.
Tom led Pinata further away from the pond, and transfixed by all of it, Sam and I just followed until the carrots were done and the donkey seemed to forget all about traumatizing the waterfowl. Then he took off to go bother the horses at the far end of the field.
Muttering more Italian curse words under his breath—which I will admit I found rather sexy—Tom brushed his hands on his wet jeans and took in his soaked clothes. He didn’t seem overly put out about any of it though and actually smirked a little when he reached us.
“So, uh … we should probably leave you to get changed and stuff, hmm?” I asked, unable to peel my eyes from the ridges of his torso and the way the wet white T-shirt had turned translucent as it clung to him.
“Hmm? Oh … uh, si.”
Did Sam just whimper beside me? I looked over at my ten-year-old, and she did indeed look disappointed to be leaving.
“When should I bring Sam back to start … working with the animals? What exactly will she be doing?”
He seemed distracted. Red flushed his cheeks beneath the salt-and-pepper scruff, and he refused to look at me.
“Um …” Stroking his chin and facial hair, he glanced around the field.
“Uh … tomorrow. After school. Scusi. I must go.” Then he took off out of the field toward his house, Portia hot on his heels.
Sam and I just stood there, watching him walk away from us. He climbed the porch steps, yanked open the door, and disappeared inside.
What was that all about?
“D-did I do something wrong?” Sam asked, a slight quaver in her voice.
I shook my head and wrapped my arm around her shoulder, leading her toward the gate. “I don’t think so. That was peculiar though, wasn’t it?”
She nodded and stepped through the gate first while I made sure it was secure behind me then we climbed into the RAV—me in the front, her in the back—and with one final glance at Tom’s house, I did the same U-turn as I did yesterday and headed back up to the main road.
While I really didn’t think my daughter or I did anything wrong to cause Tom to switch gears as drastically as he did, a niggling feeling at the back of my head told me that even if Sam said she was comfortable staying here alone with him, I wasn’t ready for that myself.
Tom seemed like a nice enough guy, but I knew nothing about him, save from what Cameron—and trusty Google—told me.
So before I left the most important thing in my life here by herself, I needed to vet this mystery millionaire a little more.
Hopefully, Gabrielle and her sleuthy ways could help. Otherwise, it looked like I’d be spending more time with Tommaso Barone because given how at ease my daughter seemed after just an hour there with animals, she was probably going to want to spend a lot of time there.