Page 79 of Buckled in Barbwire

Paisley reaches for her fresh martini. “It’s just a business arrangement.”

“Which includes dipping his company pen into your untainted ink.” Bianca dry heaves again. “I can see what’s happening here. You’re a big girl and can make good choices.”

“I’m not going to sleep with my fake husband.” But there’s no mistaking her blush as she notices the bulge below my belt.

Bianca finishes her popcorn and hops off the stool. “Get some. What’s the harm?”

My wife squints at her before glancing at Colton. A smile splits her lips. “Ah, okay.”

The instigator blanches. “What? No. This is about you making nice with my brother. He’s a grumpy asshole, but I think he means well. Maybe don’t divorce him quite yet. It’s kinda cool that we’re sisters.”

Paisley grins. “We can share your wing in the mansion.”

A glance at my scowl and Bianca snorts. “I doubt that’s gonna fly, babes. Good luck.”

They exchange a hug before my sister trots away with Colton hot on her heels. My wife squirms on her seat, taking another sip of her drink while avoiding my stare. Desire thrums in my veins as I shamelessly admire her. She’s not immune to the static charge gaining intensity between us. Another shift from her hips suggests she might beg for relief from this standoff.

A throat clears, ruining the moment. The bartender hasn’t left his station. “You good, Paisley?”

Anger rushes under my skin, replacing the gratification of her proximity. “Youwon’t be if your eyes don’t quit fucking my wife.”

The cowgirl in mention has an answering glare aimed at me that promises to maim if I don’t behave. That earns her a smirk. She rips her upset off me, swiveling to face the other man’s concern. I’m crowding her in the next breath. An elbow jabs at my ribs and I chuckle. My wife is feisty.

“You can go, Ty. Thanks for the drinks.” She taps the stack of cash, nudging it toward him.

“Have a great night,” he murmurs.

“We will.” The growl in my voice has him shrinking away.

“Don’t mind him.” Paisley pats my cheek while coddling his overstayed welcome. “My husband doesn’t like to share his toys.”

I glower at the sugary tone she gives him. My animosity trails his hasty retreat out the door. “You’re not a toy, Twinkles.”

She turns until our gazes clash again. “Could’ve fooled me with the way you insist on playing with me and my emotions.”

Those words hit me harder than a sucker punch. My mouth clamps shut for a beat. “I’m sorry for making you feel that way, and for everything else too.”

“Are you really?”

“Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” I whisper.

“I can’t just forgive you.” Her exhale is weary. “And what’s there to fight for? Our entire marriage, or whatever this is, serves a sole purpose.”

“It did, but not anymore.”

She shakes her head. “You don’t need me. The deal is done. Benson Farmstead is already yours.”

“I’ve realized that owning the company isn’t all that matters.”

Her scoff calls me a liar. “Since when?”

My palms flatten on the wood counter, caging her between my arms. “Since I started falling for you, wife.”

Paisley sucks in a sharp breath. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Maybe not yet, but eventually. We can start over. I’m just a guy in a bar, hitting on the woman of his dreams.” I swoop down until our noses almost bump. “Do you come here often?”

Her chest rises and falls rapidly. “Only when I need a release. A stiff cocktail usually takes the edge off.”

---