Page 184 of Chaos

The most sombre I’ve ever seen them, the trio nod.

As I lower my weapon and palpable relief replaces the metallic tang of fear, I almost laugh. I don’t, though. Because what I just did isn’t funny. I got no pleasure out of it. I just wanted to make myself crystal fucking clear, and I hope to God I’ve succeeded.

Because Iamserious. If they touch my family, if they even think about it, I’ll do exactly what a rancher does to a predator.

I’ll put them the fuck down.

With a stilted nod of my own, I sling my gun over my shoulder again and utter one final warning before getting the fuck out of there. “Do not be here tomorrow.”

I don’t mention what might happen if they are.

I think they’ve got the fucking gist.

I can’t say I’m entirely surprised when, after locking up Gaia and the gun I hope I never have to touch again, I scale the porch steps and find a man waiting on the swing. The dog resting her head in his lap yips quietly at my approach, a canine question that gets repeated in human form. “Where were you?”

It’s not an accusation, not even close, but past experience has me taking it as one. “None of your business.”

We both wince.

“Fuck.” I rake a hand through my hair, swallowing the emotion of the day—frustration. “Sorry.”

While Finn might accept my apology, Grouch does not. She whines, nuzzling the thigh beneath her chin. I take a step in their direction and she actually growls, and when I whistle for her to jump down, she ignores me. It’s not until Finn gently repeats the command that she obliges, huffing as she settles at his feet instead.

“You stole my dog,” I accuse softly, daring to take the vacated spot on the swing.

“You stole my horse,” Finn counters, and I wince again.

Busted.

Tucking my fidgeting hands beneath my thighs, I shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither,” Finn says, and I wonder if I didn’t sneak out as much as he let me go. “You went for a ride?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You should’ve told someone.”

“Someone would’ve stopped me.”

“I would’ve come with you.”

“I needed a minute alone.”

Contrary to what I brace for, Finn doesn't get offended. He doesn’t get hurt or pissy; he just kisses my temple and stands up.

“Hey, hey, hey,” I chide gently, grabbing his hand. “Minute’s over, cowboy.”

There it is. That smile. Muted and laced with concern, but no less stunning. Warm against my forehead as Finn stoops, burning hot against my lips as he pulls me to my feet. “If we go to bed, are you gonna stay there this time?”

“Depends.” I dance my fingers across the waistband of his pajama shorts, pretending to think about it. “You gonna keep me there?”

Dark eyes narrow. Zone in on my smiling mouth. Soften, as tender as the grip on my waist as Finn whisks me upstairs. Ushering me into my childhood bedroom, he locks Grouch out despite her whines, making something in me whine because I take the banishment as a very, very good sign.

And then I’m whining for different reasons because yes, he’s kissing me. Yes, he’s undoing the top button of my jeans and yanking them down enough for him to thumb my tattoo. He’s slipping his hands beneath my sweater and he’s pulling it off, he’s removing the rest of my clothes too.

But he’s reaching for my bag. Rustling around for pajamas. Stripping me down to my underwear only to re-dress me.

I stop him.

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