Page 59 of Buckled in Barbwire

Her laugh lacks humor. “You’re a worse liar than Dad.”

“Uh, thanks?” The beans finally start to grind and I give myself a round of applause.

Frustration spews from Bianca and I’m betting she wants to throttle me. “What did you do while I was gone? I want the truth.”

“Made money. Fixed random shit on the farm. Herded cattle. Kept the horses alive.”

“And?”

“Tolerated your new hire,” I add just to be a pain in her ass.

“Rumor has it, you’ve done a lot more than that,” she mutters. “Why isn’t Paisley answering her phone?”

A chuckle almost slips free to betray me. “Have to ask her.”

“Put her on then.” Bianca’s tone is a cheese grater against my last nerve.

“She’s still asleep.” I’m ready to beg this machine to go faster.

“At this hour?”

“Guess she’s tired.”

“And why might that be?”

My knuckles bleed white as I grip onto granite, trying to borrow its strength. “Dunno.”

It sounds like Bianca pounds on a hard surface. MaybeColton’s loyalty to me. I’d pay to see that fight. My sister’s labored breathing suggests she’s losing the battle against his iron will.

“What’s up with you lately, Brody?”

“Didn’t we already go over this?” By some miracle, the second mug is almost full. So. Close.

She huffs before inhaling deeply. “You’ve been really cagey whenever I mention Paisley. Why won’t you let me talk to her? Are you hiding something? If you are, I’m going to find out.”

And that’s my cue. “What was that? The service is spotty.”

“Oh, don’t you dare hang—”

I stab at the screen before she can finish her threat. Before her persistence can call me back, I shut off my phone and toss it in a drawer. It’s been the better half of a decade since I’ve had a real vacation. I’d say it’s long overdue. This also allows me to delay the inevitable for another day or two.

Paisley is beginning to stir when I return to the lofted den. I stand back and watch as she escapes the clutches of sleep. She stretches in an exaggerated arch across the sheets. An ear-splitting yawn raises the roof to notify the other wild animals in the area. When she’s done howling, her tongue smacks the roof of her mouth. I bet it’s drier than a July pasture in there.

“Water,” she croaks.

“That’ll require a second trip.” I lift my full hands.

Her baby blues are bleary while she tries to focus on me. Blonde tangles frame her face, which has me thinking about a roll in the hay. I’d have her far more disheveled if that were the case.

Paisley struggles to prop herself on an elbow and manages to sit semi-upright. A sloppy palm scrubs at the drool crusted to her cheek. My wife is mussed and messy and never looked sexier. Damn, I’m a simp for this bundle of sunshine.

“Look good in my shirt, Twinkles.” The fact she’s wearing something of mine is icing on the cake.

She squints down at the white tee covering her upper half. “Aw, shit.”

“Hungover?”

Her nod is jerky while she massages her forehead. “I think we overdid it on the celebrating.”

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