Page 63 of Buckled in Barbwire

We glide across the lake like it’s a sheet of ice. Wind whips through my hair as Brody pushes for more speed. It’s chilly but refreshing. I tip my head to the gray sky and stretch my arms out. If not for the slight bumps and splashes, I could convince myself I’m racing on horseback.

Nobody else is on the water, which doesn’t surprise me considering the isolated area. That allows me to be swept away by the natural beauty at every turn. Green and brown still hog the landscape, but my favorite season has entered the scene. Trees along the shoreline offer pops of fall colors as their leaves begin to change. It’s comforting and peaceful, except for the other person onboard.

Warmth churns inside of me, burning hotter as I glance at my husband. Brody sits in the captain’s chair like a king on his throne. Thick fingers drum on the wheel before regaining a loose grip. The stubble on his jaw is thicker than normal. I shiver while recalling the rasp of that coarse scruffagainst my neck when he smelled me earlier. Desire had pumped through me, much like now.

When another gust hits me, I tighten my scarf to avoid squirming. Gosh, I cannot fall for this man. Absolutely not.

“What else is on our agenda today?” I shout over the breeze.

In a fluid motion, Brody yanks on the throttle and cuts the engine. My body rocks on the waves from our abrupt stop. The absence of sound captures us in a bubble that my husband doesn’t burst. I’m about to repeat my question when he swivels his seat.

His steely expression softens when he focuses on me. “You’re not going to ditch me when we dock?”

I narrow my eyes playfully. “Wasn’t planning on it unless you give me a reason to scoot.”

“It’s barely noon. A lot can happen in one boat ride.”

“Speaking from experience?”

He shrugs, more carefree than I’ve seen him. “And our… volatile history.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” I chide. “Besides, we have a truce.”

“Indefinitely?”

The urgency in his tone raises suspicion like a red flag. It’s unlike him to be vulnerable unless several bottles of champagne are involved. I study him through a squint. A lazy smirk greets my perusal. Brody’s posture is slouched to match the wide spread of his legs. The long sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, putting his tattoos on display. He’s unbuttoned and unbothered and… almost unrecognizable.

I dissect his mixed signals again. “What are you worried about, Mr. Benson?”

He casts a sideways glance at his phone that’s abnormally quiet. “The usual.”

“Is it work?”

A subtle shake of his head disputes that theory. “Dad has it covered while we’re here.”

My brain misfires. “You took time off?”

Brody stretches, appearing completely at ease. “It’s our honeymoon.”

“But it’s not real.”

“Crushing my hopes and dreams, wife.” He clutches his chest.

“You’re a goof.”

“Bet you didn’t think I had it in me.”

I roll my eyes. “Not sure why you’re still laying on the charm when the deal is done.”

“Maybe I want you to stick around. Willingly,” he emphasizes.

Welp, that settles it. There’s an undeniable change in him, which adds to the contradiction. My gut instinct tells me that he’s hiding something. He’ll probably do whatever it takes to keep the secret buried. But that’s not where my concentration rests right now.

“This trip is good for you, boss.”

Brody scowls at the nickname, reminding me of his grumpy self. “I think it’s more about who’s with me. You’re an unexpected relief.”

“There you go again,” I laugh.

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