Page 28 of Chaos

“We need to get him into the aisle first.”

Easier said than done. I thought maybe Ruin and I forged a little bit of a bond during our chat, but apparently I was wrong.

He won’t come anywhere near us. We call and click and croon, but the Arabian remains out of reach, stubbornly plastered against the farthest wall. Kissing his teeth, Finn reaches for the door latch, apparently willing to risk letting an erratic stallion loose.

I stop him before he can. “Lemme try something.”

Clearly surprised by the offer, Finn steps back. When I gesture for it, he passes me the harness before holding up his hands in a silent‘have at it.’

Slipping my free hand into my back pocket, a quiet laugh sounds from beside me when it comes out clutching the sugar cubes I don’t ever leave the A-frame in the mornings without. Popping one on my tongue—and hoping the sugar hit makes my damn hands stop shaking—I leave the others on my palm and extend it towards Ruin, letting a short whistle loose to catch his attention. “C’mon,” I coo when those wide, dark eyes flit my way, flat ears twitching. “I know you want ‘em.”

It takes him a minute. More than that. A mane toss and a low nicker, and then a relenting sigh precedes the clop of hooves as Ruin cautiously, reluctantly sidles over. Muzzle bumping my hand, he nips at my fingers once, twice, three times, before closing his teeth around my sweet offerings instead.

As much as I want to, I don’t glance at Finn to gauge his reaction—to search for approval, I reluctantly acknowledge, much to my own disgust. I keep my eyes on Ruin as he chomps,as I slowly move the rope harness into his line of sight. He snorts a hot breath against my palm and I mutter reassurance, making sure I move even slower as I gently brush it against his neck. “See?” I mutter. “Not gonna hurt you.”

The last sugar cube crunching between his teeth, he nudges my wrist impatiently.

“You want more?” Ever-so-slightly, I tilt my head to the side. “Finn’s gonna give you some. That okay?”

“I don’t have any.”

I glance at Finn, then down at my back pocket.

He coughs. Chokes a little, I swear. I can’t tell if he’s moving slow on account of the semi-feral horse we’re trying to wrangle or if he’s just that reluctant to touch me. The latter, I think, considering he’s in and out of my pocket so quickly, I barely even feel the brush of his fingers.

“What?” I can’t resist drawling playfully. “You think something’s gonna bite you back there?”

Finn grunts. “I think the horse is the least of my worries.”

“Hey,you’rethe one who doesn’t likeme.”

“I never said that.”

“You never denied it.”

“That really bothers you, huh?” Finn cocks his head, grinning like a little shit. “That I might not like you?”

An impatient whinny and teeth digging into the meaty part of my palm save me from answering.

“Hey, now.” I hiss a reprimand at Ruin. “I’m the one with the sugar, remember?”

“You okay?’

I nod away the concern—far worse things have happened to me on this ranch than a measly nip—and gesture for Finn to cough up his own offering. He does, mimicking my actions exactly, slow and calm and quietly comforting. Soon enough, that heavy head is weighing down his palm instead, leaving theone of mine not clutching the halter free to scratch behind a twitching ear. “I’m gonna put this on now, handsome, okay?”

An arm brushes mine, breath hot on my temple as Finn stoops to murmur, “You talking to me or the horse?”

I cut him a narrow-eyed look. “In your dreams, cowboy.”

“Would feedingyousugar make you docile?”

“Try it and find out.”

He pretends to consider it for a second. “Nah.”

Somewhat desperately, I want to know what the hell the very specific smile stretching his mouth wide means. A little teasing, a lot honest, even more… jarring, I guess is the word for it.

Because for once, it’s real. It reaches his eyes. Those pretty, obsidian irises light up along with the rest of his face.

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