Page 20 of Unmanageable

A loud, mocking bleat breaks the spell from ten feet away.

Cash bites back a laugh, a slow, self-deprecating smirk gradually returning to his face. He’s clearly trying to hold it together, but he’s fighting a losing battle.

He clears his throat, pushing himself up off me, though his hand lingers on my hip for a second too long before he completely detaches himself.

He offers me a hand, hauling me to my feet with a single, effortless pull.

My body feels entirely too cold the moment the physical contact breaks. Even the grass feels less solid without him there.

Standing near the fence line, Nico is holding Barnaby by a makeshift rope halter, shaking his head at us with a look of disappointment.

“Glad to see you guys are taking the animal rescue seriously. I thought you were supposed to be securing the perimeter, not getting into a wrestling match.”

***

Four hours later, the house has settled into a state of quiet, grim recovery. We’re all back in the living room, slumped over like the survivors of a natural disaster, clinging to mugs of coffee.

The blue lipstick is mostly gone from Dean’s face, though his jaw still has a faint, ghostly tint. Jenna is lying face-down on the rug, clutching a cold compress to her lower back, looking like she’s given up on life.

I’m sitting on the floor, leaning against Cash’s legs while he sits on the sofa.

It’s an unconscious move, one I don’t have the energy to fight, and honestly, I don’t want to.

His hand is resting on my shoulder, his fingers tracing the collar of my shirt in a way that’s agonizingly casual.

“Three days,” Ivy says, staring at the ceiling as if she can find the answers there. “In three days, I am getting married. I am going to be a wife. With a rib tattoo I can’t even identify yet. This is not the itinerary I had in mind.”

“And a husband who bought a goat,” Callahan adds from the recliner, looking defeated.

“The wedding will be perfect,” I promise, closing my eyes, leaning back into Cash’s touch. “Because the bar for ‘perfect’ has been significantly lowered. As long as nobody gets arrested, branded, or kidnapped by a goat again, we win. That’s the threshold now.”

From across the floor, a blanket pile stirs.

Noah finally pushes the wool off his face, his eyes clear and sober. He blinks at us, then stares intently at our wrapped limbs.

“Wait,” Noah says, his voice raspy but sharp, as if he’s just realized the scope of our stupidity. “What did you guys actually get tattooed? I’ve been trying to run the probability models on your poor decision-making, and I’m terrified.”

“Alright, I can’t take the suspense anymore anyway,” Jenna groans, rolling over and sitting up with a dramatic wince. “We are peeling. Now.”

A collective wave of nervous tension ripples through the room. The boys lean forward, entirely invested in our downfall.

“My lady first,” Cash rumbles right behind my ear. “Let’s see the damage, Sharky. Don’t keep us in suspense.”

I don’t even have the strength to punch him for calling me his. I just peel it back, the plastic crinkling in the quiet room.

It stings as the film lifts away. I grab a damp paper towel from the coffee table and carefully wipe away the excess ointment and the stray ink.

I look down, and my breath catches in my throat.

What.

The.

FUCK.

The entire living room goes dead silent for three whole seconds before Callahan and Brick erupt into chaotic, shrieking laughter.

“No way!” Callahan laughs, slapping his knee so hard it echoes. “Scottie, you didn’t! Tell me that’s a joke!”