CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
M y gaze is hooked on Paisley as she spears a forkful of elbow noodles and slips the bite into her mouth. I lean closer, holding my breath while she chews. Her lashes flutter shut on a moan. That sound pumps me full of heat, traveling south to twitch my dick.
Blue clashes with green when she opens her eyes and looks at me. I wait for her critique like it’s a backstage pass into her good graces. Paisley leaves me hanging. A quirked brow is the extent of her feedback as she stabs more pasta from the bowl. That’s probably a good sign. Or she’s indecisive.
Since when do I give a shit about gaining approval?
The answer is sitting right in front of me. I care about what this sparkly cowgirl has to say. This newfound affliction is far worse than that based on my recent behavior. Fuck, I’m weak for this woman. Or just that taken. She’s proven to be too much, which I’m realizing is exactly what I’ve been missing .
“So?” I jerk my chin at her dinner that’s already halfway gone.
Paisley hums, tipping her head left to right. “Want me to be honest?”
“Please,” I grind out.
Her laugh strokes my fraying nerves into submission. “It’s delicious, husband. Much better than I would’ve given you credit for.”
My smile is a slow grower, sprouting under her praise. “That’s what I needed to hear.”
Paisley freezes, her fork hovering in mid-air. Her wide stare is feasting on me rather than the food. It takes a full minute for her to recover, which stretches my grin higher.
“Good grief,” she mumbles and drops her gaze. “Watch where you’re pointing that thing.”
I blindly skewer a bite for myself, unable to take my eyes off her while she stuffs her mouth. “Is my wife flustered?”
“Too hot for your own good.” Paisley blushes, still avoiding my blatant attention.
“I’m all yours, Twinkles. Might as well get your fill.”
“It’s just temporary.” The hushed tone is mostly meant for her ears, along with her resistance.
“We’ll see,” I counter and shove the pasta past my lips.
Her focus flickers to me as I taste my first attempt at homemade macaroni and cheese. She appears to be on the edge of her seat for a change. I’m about to celebrate that accomplishment, but a burst of flavor momentarily distracts me. It’s savory and creamy. Packs an appetizing punch. Definitely passable for the beloved comfort food.
I’m quick to scoop more into my mouth. “Not bad. ”
Paisley huffs another laugh. “Are you surprised?”
My nod is absolute. “Figured I’d burn the place down before serving something edible.”
Considering I barely cook for myself, this is unfamiliar territory for me. It seemed fitting that I prepare our last meal together. Luckily, Paisley’s favorite dish isn’t too complicated. She gobbles more pasta, a pleased noise offering compliments to the chef. My gesture seems to be hitting the spot. Come tomorrow, she’ll want nothing to do with me.
I’ve been thinking about coming clean, ripping off the bandage. It felt like a wasted effort. My shot in the dark is focused on showing her what she’s done for me in such a short amount of time. A month ago, I never would’ve seen myself playing house with a woman. The idea was inconceivable. Not until Paisley blinded me with her blingy sunshine. My future is brighter now, but only if she stays in it. Damn, look at me getting caught up in foreign feelings.
“Well, I’m about to burst.” She pats her flat stomach. “Thanks for making dinner. It was very tasty.”
I finish mine before gathering the bowls and utensils. “You’re welcome.”
She gawks when I rise to clean my mess in the kitchen. “And you’re doing the dishes?”
My gaze finds hers while I begin scrubbing at the cheese stuck to the pot. “I’m not worthless, Twinkles.”
Paisley snorts into her cocktail. “Nobody would suggest otherwise.”
“Only care what you think.”
Her exaggerated throat clearing pairs nicely with her lofted glass. “You’re a very rich man, husband. Wealth drips from your pores. I can smell success on you. Money follows in your footsteps, just waiting to be spent. You’re flush with cash and charm. It’s an honor to be a cent in your dollar. Cheers!”
I grunt but raise my beer for her toast. “Clever.”
“What can I say? You inspire me.” She polishes off her beverage in a swig.
My palm rubs at the sudden pang in my chest. “Guess I’ll drink to that.”
Paisley’s attention drifts out the window, dismissing me and my sullen tone. She might believe I’m putting on an act to get what I want. I don’t blame her for assuming my purpose is self-serving. That’s been my motto since setting my sights on her for this scheme. But my position at Benson Farmstead is no longer the only prize at stake.
“Would you like me to make you another espresso martini?” That phrase can get added to the list of things I never thought I’d ask.
Her smile finds me with the shaker already in my hand. “Sure.”
“Coming right up.” I grab the Tito’s and coffee liqueur. “Go make yourself comfortable on the couch. I’ll be right over.”
“Such service,” she croons.
My concentration splits between mixing the contents and tracking Paisley as she crosses the room. Her soft sigh derails me completely. Golden hair fans around her while she gets situated in the corner seat. She tips her head back, eyes sliding shut for a brief reprieve. It’s only then I realize that I’m fixated on her rather than completing the task at hand. Rookie mistake.
Her explicit instructions play on repeat while I shake the concoction like my marriage depends on it. After adding a chocolate swirl to the bottom of a clean glass, I fill it to the rim with her choice of cocktail. Two coffee beans get dunked in foam on top for the garnishing touch. There might be a career behind the bar for me yet. If my dad were here, he’d be laughing his ass off. Mom would shove me out of the kitchen and directly into Paisley’s arms. She always knew what was best for me.
I fetch myself a fresh beer before joining my wife on the sectional. Her gaze isn’t shy about stalking my approach. She’s particularly interested in what’s swinging beneath my sweats, and it’s more substantial than the drawstrings. I’ll have to buy more if this is the response I get. At this point, I’ll use any means necessary to win her over. Other than further coercion. She has to come willingly.
I barely manage to stifle a groan while covering the distance between us. But damn, the visual of Paisley begging me for relief is too tempting. Especially with her sprawled on the cushions like she actually wants to be here.
“Oh, my,” she purrs while accepting the drink. “You’re spoiling me.”
My scoff calls bullshit while I take a load off beside her. “This is nothing.”
Her eyes narrow. “Why do I have the feeling this is more than you’ve done for all your previous relationships combined? ”
“That’s a low hurdle,” I chuckle.
“But it’s true?” Paisley’s eyes sparkle while she tastes the martini.
“Twinkles,” I drawl. “Don’t mistake me for a romantic.”
“Yet you cooked my favorite meal from scratch and whipped up not one”—she counts on her fingers—“but two very yummy cocktails.”
“Is it that easy to please you?”
“What? No.” She scoffs, but her blush betrays her.
I drop my voice to a rasp and murmur, “You haven’t been properly pampered? Such a shame. I’ll be fixin’ that right quick. Pull out all the stops.”
Her giggle is shrill. “You sound like a country gentleman.”
“And you sound impressed again.”
Paisley squirms and refuses to meet my gaze. “I can’t help it. This is strange.”
“What is?”
Her sigh is drawn out. “Just sitting here as if we’re a normal couple. You’re being semi-sweet to me. Gosh, and we’re married. That’s really insane.”
My chuckle startles her. “How strong did I make your drinks?”
“Oh, hush. I’m having a moment. Fantasy and reality are clashing.” Her hand clenches into a fist before popping open to mimic an explosion.
The dots she’s connecting are invisible to me. “You’ve lost me, wife.”
“I have a confession,” Paisley murmurs.
“Now that I can understand.” A creak sounds from the couch as I turn to give her my full attention .
Her bottom lip gets tortured between her teeth. “Promise not to let it go to your head?”
My snort is instant. “Absolutely not.”
“Fine, I won’t tell you.” Paisleyredirects her focus to straight ahead.
“It’s not nice to tease, wife.” I shift closer until our thighs bump. “Tell me.”
She shakes her head, and a blonde curtain hides her from me. “No, I changed my mind.”
I tuck the fallen hair behind her ear, my fingers brushing her red cheek in the process. “C’mon, Twinkles. Spill the beans.”
“I had a crush on you,” she blurts. Her exhale is loud as if she’s pushing a weight off her chest. “If I can even call it a crush. It was more like an infatuation. You were just so hot riding that mechanical bull. Really left an impression.”
“Ah, yes. The first time you saw me.”
“And one of the only times until recently,” she clarifies. “I always knew Bianca had an older brother and there were plenty of rumors, but you were an enigma until that night at The Paddock. That drew quite a crowd. No wonder why. Once I caught sight of you, I was hooked. Never told a soul. It was silly and shallow.”
The past tense isn’t appreciated. An irrational spike of jealousy boils in my gut as I listen to her babble on about a former version of myself. I put my beer on the coffee table, giving this issue my undivided attention.
“Why didn’t you ever try talking to me?” Not that I would’ve been receptive, especially to my little sister’s best friend who I frequently compared to an infected pimple on my ass. Damn, I deserve to be stomped under her sparkly boots.
Paisley’s flat expression reflects a similar thought. “I approached you at your mother’s funeral. We know how well that went.”
“Not my finest moment,” I admit on a wince. And prior to that, I avoided her overly optimistic attitude like she would plague me.
Her brows lift in acknowledgment. “My so-called crush was squashed after that.”
“Have I redeemed myself?”
“Hardly.” She swirls the liquor in her glass. “It’s going to take more than a few nights of you being civil toward me. I’m not that easy.”
Did someone give me a shovel? I’m digging myself into one hell of a hole. My palms rub together, and I stretch out in a vulnerable position.
“Clean slate, Twinkles. Ask me anything. I’m an open book for you to pry apart.”
“That doesn’t benefit me.”
“I’m trying,” I murmur. “Doesn’t that count for something?”
“Maybe a little bit.” Paisley holds up a pinch.
My exhale ends on a grin. “I like that you make me work for it.”
“Can’t imagine the last time you had to.”
A faded memory surfaces. “Ninth grade.”
“Oh, wow,” she laughs.
I nod. “Misty Johnson needed to be dined and dated before I could touch her tits.”
“How romantic. ”
“Goes to show there’s room for improvement.”
Her snort becomes a dry laugh. “Like an entire estate worth.”
“We’ve gotta start somewhere.” I motion for her to let me have it. “What do you wanna know?”
She flounders for a moment. “I can’t think of something on the spot.”
“Not so spontaneous, hmm? Fine, how about I ask you?” I peer deep into her eyes. “Tell me about yourself, Paisley Benson.”
“First of all, I didn’t agree to change my last name.” My sassy wife wags her finger. “And second, that’s not any better. I need a helpful prompt.”
My brain takes a deep dive into the past when I actually cared about getting to know the person across from me. “Would you rather…?”
Her gasp brightens her features. “Oooooh, a game? I didn’t peg you as the type.”
“There’s a lot you wouldn’t guess about me,” I taunt. My hand signals for her to go ahead. “Ladies first. Take your time. No pressure.”
“What about rules?”
“Do we need them?”
“I can play fair if you can.”
“Spoiler alert, babe. I prefer a dirty twist.”
“Fine,” she concedes. “But I get the option not to answer.”
“And then you drink.”
Paisley sputters. “This is heavy on the vodka.”
“You can switch to something weaker,” I offer as a compromise .
“Or we can just behave ourselves.” Paisley glares, just waiting for me to argue. Her lips twitch at my feigned obedience. “Would you rather ride a bull or a bronc?”
“Bull,” I answer automatically. “More of a thrill.”
“Figured.” She rolls her eyes, mostly at herself.
“That was too easy.”
“Am I supposed to make it hard?” Her coy tone gets me halfway there.
“You won’t hear me complain.” I spread my thighs to hide the evidence stacking against me.
Paisley nudges my shin with her painted toes. “It’s your turn.”
My palm catches her ankle before she can pull away. Once she’s secured in my grasp, I start massaging. Her skin is softer than velvet, even on the bottom of her foot. My thumbs dig into her arch and add more pressure.
She sags into the cushions, her mouth hanging open. “Ohhhhh, yes. Right there.”
Desire slams into me and I almost grind against her heel. “You like that?”
“Yes!” Her lashes flutter while she surrenders to my touch. “Harder. Please.”
The need to hear her utter that phrase in a very different context has me upping my game. I repeat the motions, and she practically melts in my hands. Her whimper begs for more. A haze of lust descends as I gladly satisfy her plea. While she’s lenient and agreeable, I settle on a question.
“Would you rather kiss me or reveal a secret?”
“Secret.” The response is barely a wheeze.
“Go on then,” I urge .
“That’s not how the game works.”
My focus shifts from the bliss slacking her features to the color of her pedicure. Glittery pink polish, of course. “There aren’t any rules, Twinkles.”
She whines when I slow my kneading. “You make a really great pillow.”
“Did you sleep well?”
Her head bobbles loosely. “Best sleep I’ve had in ages.”
Pride swells in my chest until it’s difficult to breathe. “Same for me.”
“Just sayin’ that,” she mumbles.
My fingers pause their assault on a tough spot.“Wouldn’t lie about that.”
Her eyes fling open to pin me with a threat of bodily harm. “Don’t stop!”
“Never, wife.” I grab her other foot to provide the same treatment. “I’ve got you right where I want you.”
“Until tomorrow.” Suspicion gleams in her gaze, and it’s my fault.
I built that barrier between us. Hell, it’s been there from the start. We never had a chance. Not when I forced her into this situation. She hates me for it, or should. I deserve her spite.
A weary exhale does little to ease the strain on my guilty conscience. Maybe she can learn to trust me again. We can build a solid foundation after I reveal the truth about Bianca. Or I can keep dreaming.
“It’s your turn.” The stony edge in my voice alerts her to the mounting tension.
Paisley fights a courageous battle between staring at me and surrendering to relaxation. “Would you rather own Benson Farmstead without any strings attached or be forced to marry me as a contractual obligation?”
I almost laugh at her strategy. “That would’ve been another easy one if you asked me two days ago.”
Her baby blue depths beckon me to take a deep dive and never resurface. “But now?”
“You’re my wife and the best decision I never would’ve made for myself. No regrets about buckling you in barbwire, Twinkles.” I glance at her ring while my palms run along the top of her feet, drifting across her legs. “Now that you’re mine, I never want to let you go.”