Page 17 of Buckled in Barbwire

Ryder is suddenly in front of me. “You rang?”

“Where’d you come from?”

“The throng.” He hooks a thumb at the lively bunch. “They’re thirsty in this heat and I don’t miss an opportunity to sell our fresh squeezed juice. Tips are stuffing my pockets.”

Mama pats his cheek as if he’s five. “Such a shrewd businessman.”

Another pitiful sound spills from my lips. “Uh-huh, great work. Way to give them what they want.”While they plot my demise.

“I learned from the best.” Ryder wags his brows. “Thanks, sis.”

“At least one of us wins. Meanwhile, I have to move. Cassidy will take pity on me. Hopefully.” Or I’ll offer my cousin free babysitting in exchange for her cooperation. “Knox Creek has always been like a second home. I’ll fit right in.”

“And get recognized instantly,” my mom drawls.

“What do you suggest?”

“Simple,” she chirps. “Brush yourself off and get back in the saddle.”

“Huh?”

Mama pulls me off the chair. “Go ride your horse.”

“Why?”

“How else will you beat the gossips at their own game?”

“Umm…” The answer continues to evade me.

She parks her hands on her hips. “I didn’t raise you to be a quitter. Save the bronco and bang a Benson.”

My jaw drops. “Mother!”

“Oh, don’t act scandalized. I saw you squirming.” She pushes me from the tent as if I’m a baby bird fleeing the nest. “Giddy up, Paisley. Make Mama proud.”

“You’re the talk of the town, son.”

I slide my gaze from the computer screen to watch Dad enter the office. His choice of greeting suggests that he’s aware of our latest investment statement. That isn’t possible unless he decided to check his email for the first time in months. In addition, the report just arrived an hour ago. News must’ve traveled faster than normal through the rumor mill. Unless he’s being facetious and this is his clever way of telling me something else broke at the farm.

Or I’m simply overthinking his comment, which is the most likely option.

“I’m on the edge of my seat.” The dull edge in my voice betrays me. “Better spill or I’ll fall on my ass and embarrass both of us.”

My father ignores any sense of urgency, strolling to an empty chair across from me. His jovial expression soothes the irritable thrash in my veins. That easy grin is a sightI wasn’t sure I’d see again. I scrub over my chin while he adjusts in the seat. The change in him over these past two weeks is nothing short of a miracle.

Maybe he read the email after all…

He steeples his fingers, further prolonging whatever this is. “Guess who I just got off the phone with?”

My exhale is steeped in restored frustration. “Are we seriously playing this game?”

He chuckles and I feel like an ass. “Would you rather be a party pooper?”

“Yes.”

“That isn’t an option in this house.” He scolds me with a wag of his index finger.

“Dad,” I chide in return. “Can you get to the point? I’m swamped.”

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