Page 105 of Buckled in Barbwire

“I thought we could go somewhere, like on a trail ride. It’s a beautiful day to be outside. Together.” She gulps and wrings her fingers again. “And then we can talk.”

“About what?” Consider my suspicion piqued.

“Us? You? Me? The weather?” She laughs, and the tune is a bit breathless.

I narrow my eyes at the missing pieces. That doesn’t stop me from telling her, “Okay.”

Paisley blinks. “Okay?”

“I love spending time with you, wifey.” After shutting down my computer, I saunter to where she’s stalled. “Especially for no reason other than to get to know each other better.”

“Same.”

I gather her hand in mine, leading us to the nearest exit. We step into the sunshine and I tip my head to the sky. She was right about the temperature. Late September can be finicky, but this afternoon is mild. It feels damn good to take advantage before the snow flies.

I have this woman beside me to thank for that.

“One horse? Or two?” My wife squints up at me as we approach the barn.

My fingers clamp against hers. “I wouldn’t mind going double with you.”

She grabs a halter off a hook near the hitching posts. “Ritzy, Maverick, or Echo?”

“Doesn’t make a difference to me. Whichever you choose.” But my eyes drift to the buckskin mare.

Paisley’s smile is warmer than the rays above while she heads straight for my mom’s cherished steed. “Should we go bareback?”

My gaze is glued to her ass as she slips through the fence. “Don’t we always?”

Her bottom lip is trapped between her teeth when she glances at me hanging off the boards. “I suppose.”

Hinges creak as I open the gate for her to bring Echo out of the pen. “We don’t need a saddle. This one will give us a gentle ride.”

“Which is actually true, unlike you.” Whatever tension she was carrying earlier drifts away with a throaty laugh.

“You’re the one always begging for me to go harder, wife.”

Her lashes flutter, a blush coloring her cheeks. “Maybe you know me too well already.”

“Gonna dig a little deeper. Giddy up.”

That prompts her to fling the lead rope over the mare’s neck. A quick knot attaches the loose end to the other side of her halter, creating makeshift reins. My brows rise at her confidence in our mount.

“No bridle either?”

“We’re throwing caution to the wind.” Paisley tosses her head to let a gust thread through her blonde waves.

And her reckless spirit spurs mine, not that there’s anything to worry about.

My palm smooths along Echo’s golden coat. She might be a barrel racing champion, but she’s also trained to be safeand reliable. That’s why Mom treated her like a third child. This buckskin can do no wrong.

I ditch my hat so I’m not constantly thumping Paisley with the brim. While using Echo’s wither as a handhold, I swing astride the mare’s back in a practiced motion. My ass scoots backward to make room for my wife.

Paisley chomps on her bottom lip. “You make everything look sexy, cocky cowboy.”

My brows waggle and I extend an arm toward her. “Need a boost?”

“No,” she huffs. But her boots remain planted on the ground.

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