Page 6 of Buckled in Barbwire

I pause before asking, “Have you talked to him about your mom?”

“A little.” She crosses her arms and avoids my questioning stare. “He’s ignored the subject whenever I’ve asked.”

I bob my head, recalling how Brody reacted when I broached the topic of his feelings at their mother’s funeral. “Grief is…”

“A real bitch,” Bianca finishes for me and hitches her shoulders. “Don’t worry about Brody. He’s got a support system to lean on if he chooses. Our dogs and horses are great listeners. The rest of the animals aren’t too bad either.”

“Not to mention the horde of women ready to soothe his aches and pains,” I mumble under my breath.

“Gross.” My friend shudders and pretends to retch. “Don’t talk about my brother andwomen. As if I need that visual stamped in my brain. How traumatic.”

“Whoops,” I laugh. “Figured it was common knowledge.”

“Puh-lease,” she drawls. “Brody might be a virgin for all I know. He’s never brought a girl home to meet us.”

That stops me short. “Interesting.”

“Not really. Why are we still discussing my brother’s dating habits?” Her eyes narrow on me. “Are you interested in him?”

“What? No,” I sputter. “I don’t even know him. We’re practically strangers, which is odd since you’re my best friend. It’s almost like he pretends I don’t exist.”

Bianca swats at that comment, gaining the bartender’s attention. She graciously accepts the opportunity to order another round of drinks from Sal. “Brody’s a busy guy. Don’t take it personally.”

“I don’t.”

Her watchful stare is still glued to my face, prepared to spot a slip. “You’ll rarely see him in the barn, but he’s never far if you need help. He’s reliable like that. I’ll put his number in your phone just in case.”

My focus is riveted to her fingers tapping on my screen. “Seems fair enough.”

“Glad that’s settled,” she chirps. “I don’t want to spend my last night in the States gushing about my brother.”

“Me neither.” Our fresh martinis arrive, and I drift my fingers along the delicate stem. “I’m gonna miss you, Bee.”

“So very much, Lee.” Bianca plops a noisy smooch on my cheek. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

That’s when I notice our fellow patrons throwing sympathetic looks at Bianca. “Our public display is gathering attention. We’ve got rubberneckers.”

My friend glances at those nearby. “They’re waiting for me to crumble.”

“But you won’t.”

“Just might if I stay in town. I have to escape this”—she motions wildly around the room—“before I turn into a hermit and never leave the house.”

I nudge her with my elbow. “As if I’d ever let that happen.”

“Putting thousands of miles and the Atlantic Ocean between me and Cloverleaf Meadows should help. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough. Cheers.” Bianca raises her glass.

Nerves bubble in my stomach as I lift mine to clink against hers. “Here’s to finding exactly what you need where you least expect it.”

My measured stride kicks up dust on the trail that leads to the north pasture gate. “Good to see you out and about for a change.”

Dad doesn’t turn as I approach, continuing to stare at the grassy field straight ahead. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

I chuckle and scrub over the stubble on my jaw. “Could ask you the same question.”

“You’ve got it under control.”

The confidence he’s dumped on me isn’t misplaced, but some active involvement in the company would be appreciated. Especially with certain conflicts.

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