Jace
"How's the ass?" Beth called behind her as I let out another streak of swear words into the trees.
"Angry."
"Maybe he's hungry."
"No, I'm going to go ahead and go with angry. I'd be pissed if a two-hundred-pound man was riding me too."
"Maybe you should stop talking for a while." She laughed. "You're not doing so well with the whole stringing-words-together thing."
"Damn mating spiders threw me off."
"And again, point proven. Maybe this should be quiet time where you stare longingly at me and say I'm beautiful and irresistible and—"
"Can we switch animals?" I complained as Donkey let out a fart that smelled like dead chicken and enchilada. How was this supposed to be a romantic excursion?
She turned around and smirked as Donkey made another grunt and tried to catch up. "No."
"Please?"
"Be the prince, Jace!"
"My noble steed's older than Grandma! I need a steed!"
Donkey farted again, this time gifting me with the smell of roses. If roses smelled like burning flesh.
"Such a stud." She chuckled. Her posture was perfect on the horse as it galloped ahead. It made her look like some sort of avenging princess storming the castle.
Shit. Did that make me the damsel?
"Beth…" I growled. "I take it this isn't impressing you or making you feel like you're living in some damn romance novel."
She stopped the horse and turned around. "Take off your shirt, and we'll talk."
"No." I shook my head firmly. "I have to draw the line somewhere. I'm not going to take off my shirt while riding an ancient donkey through the jungles of Hawaii."
"Fairytale." Beth coughed, her damn eyes lighting up with humor, while mine narrowed with self-loathing and defeat.
"Why yes, Channel Six News, I am a prostitute. Want to see my client list? Oh, Senator Brevik? He's so extravagant!"
"Well played." With jerky movements, I finally managed to get Donkey to stop walking and peeled off my shirt. "Happy?"
"Immensely." She sighed happily. "Now mush."
"Not at the Iditarod," I called after her.
"So what are we supposed to say?" she grumbled. "Our guide is too far ahead of us, and I'm not getting lost again."
"I don't know, say please?" I really had no experience with animals or nature. My hikes had been by the Columbia River, not in spider territory.
Hybrid Metrosexual: Man who likes showers more than dirt but still knows how to smoke cigars and chop wood. See also: Tom Hardy.
"Go!" Beth pulled on the reigns and then kicked her heels into horse's sides.
Of course, it reared up.
And, of course, it took off into a gallop.