Page 35 of Buckled in Barbwire

“As if you expected my answer to change.”

“Sure would make this process easier,” he drawls.

A shadow stretches over me from his towering height. It’s only then I realize just how close we’re standing. At this distance, I notice the complex landscape in his eyes. The darker rim fences in a much lighter shade of green, which fades into gold near the pupil. I’m mesmerized by the hypnotic impact of the colors swirling together.

Once again, Echo saves me from becoming a mindless mess who will do whatever this man says. A gentle shove alerts me to stay strong. Supportive solidarity at its finest. Her jab also reminds my scattered wits that it’s my turn to speak.

“Um,” I mutter eloquently. “This is a dead end, boss. Turn around and set your sights elsewhere.”

“Nah, you’re the one I need. Nobody else is too much, which is just right for this situation.”

“I still don’t understand how that’s possible. You hate me.”

“Hate is such a strong word,” he murmurs.

My breath hitches when he tucks hair behind my ear. “What are you doing?”

His eyes become bottomless pools that threaten to drown me. “Have you thought about our kiss?”

“No,” I blurt.

“Why don’t I believe you?”

Probably because I’m lying my blingy-butt jeans right off. “Not sure, but you should. There’s no spark between us. The leftover glitter on your face doesn’t count. Better luck with the next gal.”

Low thunder booms from his chest and sends a burst of static across my skin. “Should I try again? To prove you’re full of shit.”

I feign nonchalance with a shrug. Meanwhile, my pulse is a stampede of wild mustangs. “It’s your pride on the line.”

His mouth flattens into a hard line. “Do you regret not pushing me away? Maybe I shouldn’t have been spontaneous.”

I consider feeding into his misplaced guilt. The pinch in my gut scolds me. My conscience won’t allow foul play. “You would’ve known if I wanted you to stop.”

That devilish smirk reappears. “Does that mean you like me, Twinkles?”

“Don’t press your luck.”

“Unfortunately for you, I’m going to do just that.”

I brace myself for his underlying meaning to lunge at me. Brody bends slightly, the brim of his hat bumping my high ponytail. Silence crackles between us and I’m frozenwithin the static. All I can do is breathe, which is a mistake. He smells too good. The woodsy musk is intoxicating my common sense. I’m liable to fall for his nonsense scheme if I don’t get some space.

Before I can move, he lifts his hand and I anticipate his touch. Just before making contact with my cheek, his palm shifts to land on Echo’s head. Awhooshescapes me. Flutters erupt in my stomach as heat sizzles across my face. This man has me rattled. Again.

“It’s interesting that you chose to ride this one today,” he muses while petting the mare’s forelock.

“Why’s that?” The husky notes in my voice betray me.

But Brody doesn’t seem to notice, or pretends to be consumed in stroking Echo’s black mane. “I just talked to my uncle about adding her to the upcoming auction.”

That sobers me immediately. The warmth traveling through my veins gets snuffed as I replay his words. But the message still doesn’t compute. “What did you just say?”

“Not sure if I’m ready to sell her, but she deserves more than sitting around the compound. Mom would agree.” The briefest flash of a grimace is his only sign of remorse.

I laugh. The sound is choppy and unhinged. “Wow, that’s a good one. You’ve pulled some pranks, but joking about getting rid of your mom’s favorite horse isn’t funny.”

“Which is why I’m taking this very seriously.”

“You can’t just… get rid of her. She belongs to your mom. How could you even suggest that as an option?” An emotional tidal wave crashes over me and my vision blurs against the onslaught.

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