Page 85 of Chaos

He’s good with him. I knew that already—I’ve seen them interact, heard Alex wax poetic about Uncle Finn—yet it still gets me every time, smacks me right in the ovaries. I don’t have the burning desire to procreate right this very minute—frankly, I think I need to be at least forty before I pop out a kid to balance out the median age of parenthood in this family—but I think quite literally anyone,everyone, would take one look at Finn crooning at my nephew and have seconds thoughts.

Right?

I don’t realize I have an audience of my own until a shoulder brushes mine. “Woah.” Blue eyes widen with an obviously false sense of concern. “Watch out.”

Reluctantly, I shift my gaze to my sister-in-law-to-be as she bypasses the coffee pot in favor of the kettle, pouring boiling water over the teabag she already dumped in a mug. “What?”

Bringing her mug to her smirking lips with one hand, Luna gestures at the floor with the other. “That puddle of drool. I don’t want you to slip.”

Running my tongue over my teeth, I scoff. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh.” Luna slurps her herbal blend, loud and obnoxious. “Sure you don’t.”

With a huff, I turn back to the stove, trying to ignore Luna’s not-so-quiet snickering and finding it a lot easier when the front door opening signals the arrival of several hungry ranch hands.

Taking up the rear, my brother crooks a brow at me. “You done?”

I’m mid-handing over Yasmin’s breakfast, but I nod anyway.

Mouth quirking, Jackson shakes his head once before jerking it towards the open front door. “Go on. She’s here.”

It’s a miracle I manage to muster up the patience to make sure someone else has a good grip on the plate in my hand before I let it go. Wiping my suddenly clammy palms off on my jeans, I scoot around the other ranch hands and haul ass outside, making it to the barn just as a truck stops outside it.

Unfolding herself from the driver’s seat, a tall blonde scans the dust road she just rambled down before smiling at me. “You must be Lottie.”

Briefly, I wonder how my brother described me—medium height, medium build, temper as red as her hair.“That’s me.”

“Carmen,” the new trainer introduces herself, holding out a hand for me to shake as her green eyes flit to someone behind me. “And you are…”

Another hand appears in my peripheral, grasping the one I just let go of. “Finn. I work here.”

“Nice to meet you both.”

Carmen’s gaze flits between us, lingering on Finn a little longer, dipping and rising in what cannot be mistaken as anything other than an appreciative glance. I can’t blame her, can I? I can’t judge her either—the look on her face makes me want to drag Luna out here and ask if I was wearing the same one a few minutes ago.

To her credit, though, she doesn’t let the stupidly handsome vision that is Finn distract her for too long. “You wanna introduce me to your guy or should we wait for you brother?”

“I can do it.” I’m already halfway to Ruin’s stall, Carmen hot on my heels and Finn right beside her, for some reason. Eyeing him over my shoulder, I let him know, “I don’t need a bodyguard, cowboy.”

He holds up his hands, the picture of innocence. “I’m just here to see if you pull out any more tricks.”

I snicker. Yeah, right. There’s a hot blonde giving him the eyes, but it’s my running mount he’s here to see.Okay. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

His wink catches me so off-guard, I don’t notice his hand moving until it’s yanking one of the two braids I managed to split my ponytail into all by myself this morning, no help needed. Screeching a protest, I try to bat him away but miss, and the other braid suffers a similar fate.

Managing to wrap my fingers around a thick wrist on my second attempt, I shove the offending limb away. “You’re a little boy in a decrepit old man’s body, you know that?”

“Decrepit old man?” With a scoff that sounds genuinely, deeply offended, Finn flexes both arms so those plentiful muscles bulge beneath a thin, dark gray long-sleeve. Looking way too cocky to find attractive—yet here I am anyway—he repeats, “Decrepit old man?”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Because I am. Extremely. I’ve always been a sucker for arms and his are… well, I mightactuallybe drooling now. “Put those away. Show off to Carmen on your own time.”

Finn’s arms drop. A little furrow appears between his brows, his downturned mouth opening, but before he can, I don’t know, reprimand me for embarrassing him in front of his little crush, a loud neigh makes someone’s else’s presence known.

The next half hour passes quickly. A deluge of information is thrust upon me, training plans and trust exercises and books I should read, techniques I should know, classes I could take, if I’m serious about this horse training business.

Which Carmen thinks I am. She thinks I’ll be good at it. She watches me intently as I interact with Ruin, she croons a compliment or two, and when the stallion rests his heavy head on my shoulder, nuzzling between my shoulder blades likehe can sense the healing bruised skin beneath my shirt, she remarks, “He likes you.”

I smile at Ruin as he headbutts me, a firm reprimand when I dare to stop scratching for even a second. “I like him too.”

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