Page 18 of Buckled in Barbwire

“Fine. Ruin my fun.” His huff belongs to a disgruntled teenager. “Excuse me for trying to build anticipation.”

“Consider me adequately eager.”

My father plants his palms on my desk and leans forward. “Lynn Ellen Paige shared the latest from the farmer’s market.”

The nuisance’s name gives me a migraine. “Did she straddle a cucumber?”

“Goodness gracious, Brody.” Dad’s laughter is the richest reward. “Don’t be crude.”

“She’s done worse.”

“Be that as it may, what I have to tell you is far more personal. Dare I say it’s positively private.”

The blink I send him is dipped in molasses. “You’re beginning to sound like the blab herself.”

There’s a distinct twinkle in his eye when he asks, “Have you seen Paisley this afternoon?”

“No.”

Dad’s gaze cuts to the window behind me where a sprawling view of our property is on full display. “I find that hard to believe.”

Probably because I’m full of shit. My concentration has been divided ever since the motion sensor detected her arrival. I’ve developed an unfortunate response to the ping from the entry gate. Once I hear the beep, my focus is obliterated. That was at least two hours ago, and the battle against my self-control rages onward. I’m fighting the pull now while Dad scrutinizes me, just waiting for a crack to appear. It won’t take much at this rate.

Paisley’s presence sears my back and I strangle the urge to check if she’s still in the outdoor arena. Before my father walked in, she was racing barrels on one of her horses.

The sight of her wrapping those tight turns, sitting deep in the saddle, is a temptation I don’t need. I’m willing to admit that she’s a great rider. She’s an even better adversary in an argument. Our heated banter gives me a bigger thrill than I’ve felt in years. That’s one more reason the twinkly cowgirl needs to kick rocks.

Fuck, she’s driving me crazy. Nearly the entire compound separates us yet there’s a restless energy thrumming in my chest, as if she’s next to me. Or maybe she left for the day. I didn’t get a notification from the gate, but she could be hiding in the barn. My knee bounces in preparation to launch me upright to feed the addiction.

It’s only then I realize the silence has stretched longer than a morning piss.

I force my attention to Dad. “Are we done here?”

That gleam hasn’t left his gaze. “We’re just getting started. As I was saying, rumor has it that Paisley sang your praises at the market.”

A gruff scoff calls bullshit. “I find that very hard to believe.”

“Several reliable sources claim that she’s crazy about you.”

“First of all, there are no reliable sources in Cloverleaf Meadows.” My earlier intuition about them blabbering about me was mostly spot on, but that’s beside the point. “And the second portion of that statement is only factual if they meant in the delusional sense.”

Dad waves off my retort. “The town thinks you and Paisley are destined to be together, which got me thinking about your love life. Or lack thereof,” he adds on a grumble.

“Since when do we listen to gossip? It’s a bunch of bull.”

“Not in this case.”

“Agree to disagree.” I recline in my seat, the leather creaking beneath me. “Is that all? I have work to do.”

“Funny you mention that since it leads into my next point.”

The throb at my temples gains intensity and I rub at the ache. “When will this end?”

“Very quickly if you accept what I’m proposing.”

“Get on with it.” I roll my wrist to hurry him along.

“Before I dive into the specific terms, I want to acknowledge how much you’ve done for Benson Farmstead. The investments alone have brought us to another level. I’m very proud of what you’ve accomplished, Brody.”

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