Mase
Is he seriously tying the donkey to the pool post? I grimace, knowing damn well those things aren’t the most stable. That’s something I won’t need to fix. Nope, we won’t be here long enough to care. This place is going on the market the moment we step foot in New Jersey.
Bubbles makes a beeline for the donkey, and I wince and place my beer bottle on the table. The last thing we need is for the damn dog to spook the donkey.
She yaps and I frown, making my way over before things get out of hand. “Bubbles, no!” I shout toward the dog, but she yaps louder. The donkey rears back. Oh, shit. I slowly step forward with my arms out in front of me, trying my best not to scare the donkey as I inch toward it.
“Fuck!” Tate shouts and heads toward us, but his loud bellow doesn’t help the situation because the donkey backs up, appearing more flustered than ever.
Thankfully, Eleanor grins a toothy smile, completely unperturbed as Tate stands behind it.
He gives me a nod, and I step forward, but in the blink of an eye, the donkey jerks back, making a grunting noise I didn’t know they could make.
It lashes out, kicking its back legs toward Tate.
“Holy! Fu—” Tate drops to the ground holding his groin, then stumbles backward.
My mouth falls open to warn him, but it’s too late, as he falls into the cake stand, and the cake wobbles before collapsing on Tate as he hits the ground.
Ugh, fantastic!
“Ahhhh!” Eleanor lets out a wail rivaling a war cry, and the donkey pulls away, taking the pool post and fence with it. I have the foresight to dash out of the way as the net fencing is dragged open.
The women’s screeches ring out in my ears, and I rush to grab the donkey. Who knew these things could run?
Shaw steps in front of it and grabs the rein, and the tension I was holding slips away.
The women erupt into cheers, and I roll my eyes. Not a single one of them has moved an inch.
“Cake!” Eleanor screeches, and Shaw lifts her from the donkey.
“I was only gone for five minutes,” he declares, surveying the destruction while placing Eleanor on the ground. More like forty-five.
“Helll-p,” Tate groans, and I spin to face him on the ground, cupping his balls. “Hurts.” Oh shit, I think he’s genuinely in pain. He writhes, appearing in agony.
Eleanor sits beside him, swiping the cake off his face and delivering it to her open mouth.
Then Bubbles waddles over and crouches over Tate’s leg, and I watch on in horror as the dog begins to pee.
“Welcome to my fucking world,” Reed says, standing over Tate with his hands on his hips and a hint of a smile on his face.
“Congratulations on the baby shower, man.” Shaw slaps me on the back, and I laugh. When my eyes meet Summer’s, I see the same sentiment firing right back at me.
This is happiness.