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Gilli gestures down to the yoga pants and flannel shirt she’s got on, tied at the front in a knot near her belly button. “This will be fine.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes.Just like a fucking kid. A sweet pair of tits doesn’t make her mature.

“You’ll need jeans. Something thick so you don’t get scratched by whippy limbs.”

She doesn’t argue with me again, even when I hear her muttering under her breath that there is something wrong with me. There is, of course. Somethingiswrong with me.

Once she’s changed into jeans, I march her outside to the utility vehicle. Aiden’s truck is gone.

It will be good for him to have some time to himself to reconnect with nature. He’s always surrounded by people. The staff at the school, the students he coaches on the football field… He deserves a break. Some alone time does a man good, and gives him ample opportunity to pull his head out of his ass where my stepsister is concerned.

The desire to fuck her is fine, but acting on it is a different story.

Gilli eyes the machine and the chainsaws in the back like they’re vipers waiting to attack.

As soon as she’s in the seat beside me, I take off, fast enough to have her grabbing the overhead bar.

She clutches the bar as we aim for the driveway and the downed tree I saw on my dawn walk. My jaw flexes. She accused me of being a bully and I am; it’s in my nature to take charge, and when anything is amiss in my life, I handle it.

The chip on my shoulder is one I’ve filled with everything from drugs to booze to women, and when none of those things made a difference, I learned to live with the emptiness.

This time, I’m at my whits end. The vacationI’dneeded is out the window and Gillian pisses me off with her very presence.

A bully and an asshole, yeah. That’s me.

I can’t be depended on to say the right things and I can’t always be soft and accommodating. I’m not the type to play games. I say what’s on my mind and it tends to rub people the wrong way.

The brakes grind a little when I pull to a stop near the fallen tree. Pushing up the sleeves of my black hoodie, I wait for Gilli to meet me at the back of the vehicle.

“I’m going to take a stab in the dark and say you’ve never worked a chainsaw before. Electric or otherwise.”

She glares at me. “I know my way around a scalpel, but no, I’ve never used machinery like this.”

“A scalpel?”

“Vet clinic,” she clarifies. “I help perform surgeries.”

It’s a small piece of information and one I hope I would’ve figured out with some light digging into her past. But she offers it up to me withouthesitation.

I explain to her how the battery-powered chainsaw works.

“Seems simple enough,” she murmurs.

“Good. Then you’ll have no trouble working it.”

She’s pulled her hair back in a braid that travels down her spine. Her glasses perch on the edge of her nose and a ray of sun streaks across her face, bringing out the green of her eyes.

“What are you going to do if I fail at this?” she asks. “Are you going to kick me out of the cabin and make me camp in the woods until I chew the tree into pieces?”

Her stubbornness is maddening. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

“I’ve got a right to wallow,” she mumbles. “Sometimes it hits me all at once. It’s hard to push aside and pretend the world is rainbows and sunshine.”

She feels the need to defend herself. That isn’t always a bad thing.

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” I reply. “Whatever it is you’re going through, you said you’re dealing with it on your own, and I’m inclined to let you. I don’t give a shit about your feelings. Sorry.”

She glares at me and I reach over to grab the chainsaw and thrust it into her hands.