Page 2 of Buckled in Barbwire

My sister smiles, although the edges wobble. “Lucky for you, I found someone to care for those precious babies in my absence.”

The restless energy brewing in my veins sparks as if preparing for battle. “Who?”

“My friend.”

“Oh, that narrows it down.”

“Paisley.”

My expression wipes into a blank slate. “Am I supposed to recognize that name?”

Bianca’s grin spreads ever so slightly. “You know who she is.”

“Can’t say that I do,” I drawl.

My sister crosses her arms, staring down at me like I’m a stubborn toddler. “She’s the bubbly bundle of sunshine usually at my side. You can’t miss her.”

And that’s the truth. Not that I’ll ever admit it. Paisley Keaton might as well be an infected pimple on my ass for how much she annoys me. The pure joy she emits grates on every nerve until I’m rubbed raw. I find it inconceivable that a person can be filled with sheer glee and compassion at every turn. She really outdid herself at the funeral. That reminder flexes my muscles as heat rushes through me.

“Not happening,” I grit. “She’s not a suitable candidate for the job.”

“Oh, puh-lease. Paisley has more cowgirl experience than me.”

But I’m not hearing it. “I’ll find someone else to handle the horses and barn chores.”

My sister scoffs. “Sucks for you, big brother. Paisleyalready accepted the position. She started yesterday, gainfully employed by Benson Farmstead.”

“Under whose authority? I didn’t approve of hiring her.” Especially not for the astronomical amount I’m certain Bianca offered to pay her friend.

“Talk to Teresa if you have an issue with her payroll process. My work here is done.” She begins backing away.

Family is a soft spot for me, one of my only weaknesses. Bianca is too aware of this and uses it to her advantage. She knows I won’t deny her. I’ll let her leave and pick up the slack, not that she’s expecting me to. Nope. My thoughtful sister hired Paisley to do the honors. Little does Bianca realize, I’d rather wrap my dick in barbwire than grant that woman easy access to my property.

I launch to my feet, crashing the chair into the wall. “Wait a damn minute.”

“For what? It’s clear you won’t wish me well on my journey.”

“Fuck.” I rake through my hair. “I’m not trying to be an asshole. This isn’t what I expected when you stepped into the office.”

Bianca nods. “It’s been a rough adjustment, which is why I can’t be here. Just… give me time. I’ll be back.”

“When?”

She shrugs. “I can’t say for sure. But I won’t be gone for good.”

My mind spins in too many directions. “Why doesn’t Paisley go to Europe with you? Then you won’t be alone.”

“Nope. I need to do this for myself. Soul searching,” she says.

This evasive maneuver shouldn’t come as a surprise.We’ve been coping in our own separate ways since my mother passed two months ago. Her death shattered our family at its core, testing our strength. Dad was the first to crumble. He’s a shell of his former self. If I went searching, I’d find him sitting alone with only a bottle of scotch for company.

I flatten a palm on my abandoned paperwork. “Did you tell Dad?”

“Tried. He’s in a sour mood.” Which is a polite term for his benders.

My exhale is choppy. “Well, make sure you say goodbye before you go.”

“You’re giving me permission?”

---