Page 8 of Buckled in Barbwire

A retort is perched on my tongue like a sharpened blade, ready to annihilate his despondence. But then a car door slams and our attention swivels toward the sound. Paisley struts across our property as if she owns the place. Sunlight bathes her hair, spinning the strands into pure gold. Her athletic tank top is fit for the August heat, but the snug style molds to her breasts veryunprofessionally. Especially for her first day on the job.

Not that it matters what she wears. I couldn’t care less, which reminds me where my concentration belongs.

“Better get back to the office,” I grumble while backing away from this disaster waiting to happen.

My father’s eyes are narrowed in the blonde’s direction. “Is that the oldest Keaton kid?”

My retreat halts and I snort. “More commonly known as Bianca’s best friend.”

“What’s she doing here?”

I rip my gaze off our new employee to gape at the manwho rules this roost. “Your daughter didn’t tell you before she left?”

“Why, yes. Of course. This is the expected response from somebody in the loop.” His sarcastic retort almost makes me smile.

“Bianca hired her to manage the barn while she’s gone. We also gained two more horses in the process.”

“Interesting,” Dad muses.

“Not really. I tried to talk her out of it.”

“And why would you do that?” There’s no missing the conniving lift in his tone.

My eyes stray to where Paisley is petting my sister’s favorite gelding. I become captivated by her even strokes along the palomino’s neck. She doesn’t notice us or chooses to ignore our presence. Most likely the latter.

“We don’t need her help,” I grind out.

“Are you planning to keep those horses in shape? How about mucking out the stalls?”

I grunt at the suggestion that my sister does dirty work. “Bianca hasn’t touched a pitchfork since she dressed as a devil for Halloween in third grade.”

“No matter. It gets done on her watch.” Dad’s attention slides toward the corral. “Decent stock.”

I send him a curious look. “Bianca won’t settle for less than the best bloodlines.”

“Not talking about the horse.” If I didn’t know better, I’d think amusement colors his tone.

“She’s not a broodmare.”

“Could’ve fooled me with the way you’re ogling her hindquarters.”

I cut my gaze off Paisley, taking a sudden interest in the dirt. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Holy shit,” my father hoots. “Are you blushing?”

My eyes snap to his laughing face. This is what it takes to get a rise out of him? Fuck, I’ll sacrifice my dignity to prolong his boost in mood. It’s not like anyone else is around to witness my unconventional methods. A sideways glance proves that Paisley is still ignoring our existence.

“She’s a walking distraction,” I mutter. “A liability waiting to happen.”

He pats me on the back. “Might as well be a marriage proposal.”

“Fuck that.” And forget putting on a show for his benefit.

Dad’s chuckle threatens to thaw my frozen heart. “Happens before you realize you’re too far gone. You’re completely in control one minute, living your best bachelor life. The next, a pretty filly prances across your path to rearrange your priorities.”

“Not gonna happen to me.”

A disturbing twinkle flashes in his stare. “Don’t act like it’s a hobble on your freedom. Couldn’t be further from the truth. The day I convinced your mother to spend her life at my side was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

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