Page 65 of Buckled in Barbwire

Brody’s jaw works to the sound of grinding gears. “He would…”

A daunting realization bulges my eyes. “Hold your horses. He doesn’t know?”

His carefree expression shutters. “Don’t blame me for his assumptions.”

“Oh, please. You didn’t bother to be honest and reveal the truth.”

“Why would I? He wants to believe we’re crazy about each other. There’s no harm in letting him.”

A pit forms in my stomach. “He’s going to find out. We’re not paid actors.”

The sparkle dims from his gaze. “Do your parents know the truth?”

“Of course not.” I throw my hands in the air. “You didn’t give me the chance to tell them before shoving this rock on my finger.”

He glares at the diamonds I shove in his face. “What’s the difference?”

“Are you serious?” The impulse to throttle him fists my hands. “This isn’t about me or my parents.”

“How do you figure? You’re deceiving them just the same.”

“Nope, not happening. Quit trying to turn this aroundon me, master manipulator. I wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for you and your blackmail.”

His shrug couldn’t care less. “But you could’ve set the record straight.”

“We’ll share that honor when we get an annulment,” I huff.

He bolts upright, posturing going rigid. “We’re not getting an annulment.”

“Excuse me? You’re not keeping me in this phony matrimony.”

“Not forever, but we need to stay married until I take ownership of Benson Farmstead.” A vein throbs in his neck.

“Which is what? A month? Maybe two? How long will it take to convince your dad that we’re not meant to be?” I tap my chin. “A week should do it. Let’s hope he gives you credit for trying.”

Brody pinches the bridge of his nose. “Twinkles—”

“Holy shit,” I blurt. Realization dawns on me while the sun remains tucked behind the clouds. “Bianca thinks this is real too. Is she pissed at me?”

My darling husband takes a sudden interest in checking the gas gauge. “Beats me.”

“Oh, you’re an ass. That’s why she hasn’t talked to me in weeks.”

“Or maybe she was just busy in Europe,” he evades.

“I need to call her.” My upturned palm beckons for his phone.

Brody makes no move to fulfill my request. “Wait until you see her.”

“You better be joking.”

“It’s for the best. Trust me,” he presses.

The desperate edge in his voice gives me pause. Bianca must be really mad. Maybe my husband is trying to protect me from his sister’s wrath. That seems far-fetched, even for this unlikely scenario I’m trapped in.

I rake trembling fingers through the snarls in my hair. “How can I trust you? This is all your fault.”

His stare implores mine, convincing me to search his soul. “Am I that bad?”

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