Page 51 of Buckled in Barbwire

“I have to see this through.” He adjusts on the seat again. If I didn’t know better, I’d assume he’s uncomfortable.

I narrow my eyes at this expert in deception. “Where are you taking me?”

“Not sure, Twinkles.” Brody glances out the window. “But we’re about to find out.”

Agruff chuckle parts my lips as I step out of the limo to admire our home for the next week. My dad sent us to an isolated cabin in the woods. But calling this place a cabin is an insult to the builder. The log structure is massive and modern. It’s the type of spot that someone with money owns to escape the daily grind. Comfort and luxury are combined.

I do a visual sweep of the area. There’s nothing else to see except the lake and trees. No sign of people or civilization. Only nature in its purest form. We’re alone, which is far from peaceful.

At least there’s a truck in the driveway. That must be Dad’s doing as well. It’s awful considerate to provide us with a means of escape.

I turn back to the Escalade, peering through the open door. “Planning to join me, wife?”

“No,” Paisley mutters from her seat. “And quit callingme that.”

“That’s what you are, I’m afraid.”

Her baby blues narrow into feisty slits. “For how long?”

“Why don’t you get out and we’ll talk.”

She sniffs, still not moving. “I’d rather go home.”

“And I’d rather we never met but here we are.”

Paisley sucks in a sharp breath. “Rude.”

“Accurate.” I stretch my arm, fingers curling to beckon her. “C’mon.”

“No.”

“You’ve already come this far,” I grit. “Might as well enjoy the scenery.”

After several disgruntled huffs, my bride slides across the leather and accepts my hand. I hoist her from the vehicle like she’s a sack of feathers. She squeaks at my gentle treatment but the sound cuts off when her gaze locks on our lakeshore home.

“Wow,” she breathes.

“Not too shabby, eh?” Even I can admit that Dad chose well for us.

“It’s stunning.” Paisley’s steps are clumsy as she blindly walks toward the A-frame cabin. “We get to stay here?”

“Oh, now you want to stay?”

Her wide stare moves along the log base, lifting skyward to the tall peak of the roof. “I might’ve been a bit hasty at first.”

My chuckle confronts her feigned indifference. “Wonder what you’ll say after seeing the rest.”

“Ready when you are.”

“It’s okay to admit you’re excited.”

“Just cold.” She shivers and I’m reminded that it’s muchcooler in northern Minnesota compared to the southern region.

Her wedding dress does little to conserve any warmth she’s cooking.My suit jacket can be a quick fix to that problem. I have a hunch that the gesture will get shrugged off instantly. A blanket of burrs would be better received.

“Dammit, woman.” I gesture to the cobbled path. “Get your ass inside.”

Our driver unloads the bags and we trail after him to the front door. He unlocks the deadbolt, stepping aside to grant us entry. I pass him a hefty tip in exchange for the keys, and then he’s backing away to allow our honeymoon to begin. Just fucking great.

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