Page 163 of Chaos

And why the hand that wasn’t just almost inside me shakes a little as it rolls down the window at the urging of the man on the other side.

Two tan forearms stack on top of the frame, the gold band on a long ring finger glinting in the afternoon sunlight. A tall, lean body stoops until a familiar face comes into view, and even though I already knew who it was, I still have to restrain a wince.

“Hi, Oscar.” I smile innocently like I haven’t just been caught red-handed—and red-faced, and red-mouthed too—doing something no older brother should witness. “How was the honeymoon?”

The tick of Jackson’s jaw tells me he’s probably wishing he was still lounging on a beach with his new wife. “Lux told me you two were out mending fences. Thought I’d come help.”

I pat the silent man beneath me on the shoulder. “We finished.”

Finn chokes.

Jackson flushes, but his hard expression perseveres. “And now?”

“I really don’t think you want me to answer that.”

Both men groan, one raking a hand down his scrunched face while the other knuckles his eyeballs like he’s trying to erase the sight before him from his memory.

“Finn?” the latter grunts through gritted teeth.

The former winces. “Yeah, boss?”

“Get your hands off my sister, please.”

He does—a little too damn quick for my liking.

“Lottie?”

I sigh. “Yes, boss?”

“Get off my ranch hand, please.”

“But I’m so comfortable.”

“Charlotte.”

I huff. And then I do as I’m told, awkwardly clambering back to the passenger seat, making a real show of zipping up my jeans and fixing my skewed top purely because I’m kind of really getting a kick out of the level of discomfort thickening the air.

“Careful.”

My first instinct is to glare at my brother, to snap that Finn’s a grown man who can handle himself, even against a wretched girl like me.

Except he isn’t talking to me. He’s talking to Finn about me, and though my second instinct is that he’s warning him, I quickly realize that’s not the case either. Not in the way I automatically assume.

Jackson curls his fingers around the window frame. He pushes off the truck, still bent at the waist so he can eyeball the man who was a lot more than an employee even before he caught his little sister sitting on his lap. “Got a lot of land, Akello,” he oh-so-casually states. “Would hate for you to go missing on it.”

Finn swallows audibly. “Yes, sir.”

With a sharp nod, Jackson straightens and backs up. He rakes a hand through his hair, the serious edge to his expression giving way to a soft chuckle. Mumbling something I don’t quite catch, he knocks on the truck again. “Get back to work.”

“Yes, sir,” I parrot, saluting. And as he walks towards the saddled horse lingering a few feet away, I crawl across Finn’s lap so I can hang out the window. “Hey.”

Hoisting himself onto the back of a dappled Appaloosa named Scooby, Jackson turns back to me.

“Threaten my boyfriend again and you’ll be the one who goes missing.”

With a smirk that proves our shared DNA more than any biological test ever could, Jackson brandishes his middle finger before galloping into the distance.

I grin as I reel back into the truck. When I look at Finn, he’s grinning too. “What?”

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