Page 27 of Buckled in Barbwire

“Jeez, sis. What did the hangers do to you?” Gemma’s voice startles me from the pit of regret.

It’s only then I realize that I’d been whipping clothes along the rack. My reckless decision mocks me.“I’m just… frustrated.”

She hums, lifting a skirt for closer inspection. “Does this frustration have anything to do with your smoochy sesh at Paddock?”

My nose wrinkles at her creative terminology. “How did you hear about that?”

“I might not be physically allowed in the bar, but that doesn’t mean I miss the fun.” Her brows wag.

“That’s quite an accomplishment.”

“The snaps and texts flooded in. I even saw a video.”

“Creepy,” I mutter.

Gemma scoffs. “Wouldn’t have to rely on the gossips if you’d spill the beans like a lopsided can. Now’s your chance, sis.” Intrigue shines in her blue eyes—the bright shade we inherited from our mother. “What’s going on between you and Brody?”

I feign an unwavering interest in a sweater that would be cozy for the approaching fall. It’s bright pink and sparkly, which is my signature. “Nothing.”

“Is that why he bought you every stem that Sassy had available?”

My teeth clack shut. If the cocky cowboy thinks an entire flower shop’s supply will win me over, he’s more delusional than I thought. He’s tainted the romantic gesture for me.

“Those were from my secret admirer,” I grumble.

“More like your partner in tonsil hockey. You’re not fooling anyone.” Her raised volume awards us several glances from fellow Bronco Bling customers.

I drag her behind a display of jeans to escape the curious stares. “He needs a… favor and is trying to mark his territory in order to convince me.”

“Wait a minute.” She palms her forehead. “Brody Benson kissed you in order to get something else from you?”

It sounds silly repeated back to me. Not that I’ll admit it. “And now my tiny studio is full of Sassy Stems.”

Gemma’s lips curve into a coy grin. “You did the favor.”

“Nope,” I cluck. “Brody decided to shower me in gratitude. I guess that’s my reward for not dumping a drink over his head.”

My sister laughs. “Wow, you’re not falling at his feet.”

“He wishes.”

Her humor escalates into a cackle. “Damn, I love this fierce vibe.”

“What can I say? He brings out the worst in me.” And I’m entirelytoo muchfor him to handle.

Gemma wanders to the candle section. Her face sours after she smells an orange jar. “So… what’s the favor?”

My pulse skips as I consider how to answer. Brody’s parting words play on a loop like a haunting omen. But I’m not his, and never will be. Fake relationship or otherwise. Agut instinct tells me he won’t accept that easily. It wouldn’t hurt to get people in my corner.

I push out a thick exhale. “He wants to pretend that we’re a couple.”

She goes abnormally still for several seconds. “And you’re hesitating?”

“Obviously.”

Her jaw drops. “Why?”

“For starters? To protect my dignity,” I deadpan.

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