Page 27 of Chaos

Sighing, I slip an arm across her shoulders, indulging the affectionate nature we definitely do not have in common for just a minute. “By the way,” I mutter quietly as I try my very best to sufficiently love on the kid who used to make me sit on the bathroom floor while she showered because she hated being alone. “You are real, meaningful help.”

She makes a noise like she disagrees, and I really don’t like that, I really don’t like someone like Eliza, my bright, confident Eliza, doubting herself.

“Hey.” I yank her ponytail gently. “You do a lot, kid. We’d all starve if it weren’t for you.”

Surprise flashes across her face, so fucking brief, but it kills me anyway. Makes me wonder if I’m really so awful that my baby sister can’t fathom me paying her a compliment.

I wonder, when she smiles and snuggles against me again and tells me she’s glad I’m home, if Lux told her about our arrangement. About the time limit.

I wonder if she simply didn’t have the heart to, like I don’t as I lie and say that I’m glad to be home too.

I’m perched on a stool in the stable, hunched over a giant pile of dirty riding equipment when a holler of my name somehow manages to overwhelm the hyperpop blaring in my headphones.

Using my shoulder to nudge one side off, my aching neck cries out in relief when I look up, only to curse me in the next second when I promptly drop my gaze back down to the muddy bridle in my hands. “Done already? Thought those ladies would’ve kept you occupied for at least the rest of the day.”

Brown, square-toed boots step into my line of sight. “Need your help with something.”

“Well, you’re shit out of luck, I guess.” Glancing up again, I paste on a half-heartedly rueful smile. “I don’t bring Viagra to work.”

Full lips part with something that might be a restrained gasp or a laugh or a sigh, or a combination of all three. “My stamina’s just fine, honey.”

I do not glance at his crotch on purpose. It’s just in my direct line of sight. It’s on the way down as I return my attention to the never-ending pile I’ve been scrubbing for the past hour. “What do you want, Finn? I’m real busy here.”

“Don’t think the tack is going anywhere.” Plucking my headphones off—and completely ignoring my protest—Finn nudges the bucket I’ve been dropping freshly-cleaned equipment into aside with his foot. “I gotta check out Ruin and I need someone to keep him calm.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure that word is in his vocabulary.”

Finn makes a noise like he agrees, but he still insists, “C’mon. Please?”

Sighing, I drop the bridle and brace my forearms against my thighs, almost flinching when I look up to find Finn a lot closer than I expected. Dropped to his haunches, his face is almost level with mine, leaving me all up close and fucking personal with smooth, clear skin and crinkled, obsidian eyes. I blame it oninstinct, the fact my gaze drops to his lips for one moment too many before common sense kicks in. “Why me?”

“You’ve got the most experience,” he says plainly, all matter-of-fact. “You can handle it.”

God, I hate that I sit up a little straighter. Puff out my chest just a bit. Give in that easily, a single sentence that’s barely even praise, it’s just honesty, enough to hook me.

“Plus,” Finn adds, apparently unaware that I don’t need the extra encouragement. “He doesn’t like men.”

Well, now I’m definitely sold. A misandrist horse—swoon.

When I get to my feet, Finn flashes those perfect, white teeth as he stands too. “Thanks, Lottie.”

“Uh-huh.” I grunt as I roll my tight shoulders back before extending my arms above my head, stretching like a cat and groaning my relief. As my tank top rides up, Finn’s gaze drops, and I briefly wonder if it’s the bare skin, the belly button piercing, or the tattoo peeking out from below my waistband that catches his attention before I remember that I don’t care.

The perusal only lasts a second anyway. It’s over almost as soon as it starts, ending as Finn clears his throat and turns around to stride out of the stable and towards the main barn where our newest, rowdiest tenant lives.

Unsurprisingly, Ruin is pissed. He snorts and huffs and kicks the stall walls, not quite aggressive, but certainly not docile by any stretch of the means. The indents his teeth made on my hand throb in warning, but over my dead body am I backing out now.

“So what’re we doing?” I ask as I glance over at Finn, my curiosity hiking up a notch at the sight of him looping a leather apron around his waist, a toolbelt too.

Huh.

Men in aprons.

Didn’t know that did it for me.

“I’m gonna check his hooves. You’re gonna make sure I don’t get a concussion.” Snagging one of the many rope halters hanging off the wall, Finn shoots me a look. “Right?”

I hesitate for dramatic effect before reluctantly confirming, “Right.”

---