CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
P aisley peruses a rack of shirts, humming absently. “I thought Bianca was going to help me spend your money.”
“Changed my mind.” I’m shamelessly staring at her while she shimmies to the upbeat song playing in the store. “I’d much rather do the job myself.”
Especially after witnessing a nonstop slew of men slobber over her at the fairgrounds. They should’ve applied to be rodeo clowns considering their cheesy performance. Paisley’s obvious indifference is the only reason their kneecaps are intact. When she flashed her wedding ring and proudly pointed at me, I smirked at them like a smug jackass who has everything he wants. If they only knew the threat of bodily harm that was hidden behind the expression.
“Doing okay over there, husband?” Paisley’s voice clears the haze of violence from my vision. “You’re looking a tad… tense.”
I stretch my arms along the back of this uncomfortable sofa. “Are you offering to sit on my face to take the edge off?”
Her complexion reddens into the shade of a tomato. “You did not just say that.”
“Need me to repeat myself?”
“No,” she rushes to silence me. “And I’m not doing that here.”
I lick my lips, getting half hard when she tracks the motion. “Who’s going to see, Twinkles?”
“Is that what makes this a hot date?” She gestures around the vacant shop.
“Go look in a mirror and find your answer.”
Her blush reignites and she ducks her chin. “You’d love to corner me in a dressing room.”
The thought drills a hot spike of arousal into me. “Take your pick. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Stay where you are. You’ve already chased everyone away. Again.” She sounds disgruntled, but her smile reveals the truth.
My gaze feasts on her. “Don’t want to share your attention more than I already do.”
And I made that perfectly clear when we stepped inside Cowgirl Charm. The sales-clerk was very willing to close the boutique to give us exclusive access and privacy. After locking the doors, she made herself scarce. It’s just the two of us, and Paisley is in her element.
Except she hasn’t picked a single thing in the hour we’ve been here. Her browsing is enthusiastic until she looks at the price. I watch as she grabs a pair of studded jeans, but then flinches at the cost. She moves on and the process repeats .
Little does she realize, I’m keeping track of every glittery thing she admires. And to think I first called her Twinkles as an insult. I snort at the long line of my mistakes where Paisley is concerned. This woman dazzles me with her sparkle—inside and out.
“It’s not that bad.” My wife pouts at the sequin dress she’s holding up. That bottom lip sucks in once she peeks at the tag. “You’re right. It’s too much.”
Just for that comment, she’s getting two in each color.
I sit forward, propping my elbows on my knees. “Should we go somewhere else? I’ll take you wherever you want to go. Just name it.”
“You’re becoming quite a smooth talker.”
“Does that make you happy?”
She hesitates before nodding. “But you make me happy when you’re surly and dirty too.”
“Since when?” My mouth is a firm line, but I’m beaming on the inside.
Paisley gestures wildly at our surroundings. “I usually avoid this store because it’s too expensive, but you rented it out so I can shop in peace without feeling judged.”
My ass is off the cushion in the next second. “Who makes you feel that way?”
She laughs a twinkly tune. “As if I’m going to tell you and your grumpy side. But see?” A pink polished nail points at her wide grin. “Happy.”
Another burst of need jets through my veins, pumping me with desires only she can fulfill. I rumble while taking a meaningful step toward her. If she’s not ready to leave, I’ll drag her behind the curtain for a quickie .
My wife notices the change in me and visibly squirms. “Uh-oh. I’ve awoken the fiend.”
And he’s famished. “Are you done here, wife?”
A longing look drifts over the so-called country couture before a sigh slumps her shoulders. “I think I’ve had my fill. We can go.”
“Right after I pay.”
The clerk magically reappears as if summoned. “Allow me to assist with that. I’m Monica, by the way. Please let me know if you need anything else while I collect your selection. I’ll get a total for you shortly.”
She begins gathering the clothes and accessories Paisley quietly admired. There must be a camera somewhere or Monica is too good at her job. My wife gawks at the other woman grabbing several pairs of jeans. Shirts and dresses are next.
Her baby blues widen exponentially as the stacks on the counter grow taller. “What’s happening?”
The clerk doesn’t pause while explaining, “Mr. Benson gave me explicit instructions to collect the garments you’re interested in.”
Paisley’s jaw drops again. “But this is your entire selection in my size.”
Monica’s smile is professional. “And we’re grateful for your business.”
My wife sputters and begins arguing. The other woman doesn’t listen, choosing to wisely follow my orders. While those two are preoccupied, my attention wanders out the front window.
I freeze when my gaze lands on Uncle Jimmy across the street. He’s talking to a very recognizable loan shark with a reputation more crooked than Main Street. What’s worse is the connection this man has to certain unlawful individuals in our community. Unease slithers through me, replacing the comfort my wife provides.
She rests a gentle hand on my arm as if hearing the knots clenching my gut. “Is that your uncle?”
I bob my head while expletives play on a soundless loop.
Paisley narrows her eyes at the sight. “Who is he talking to?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Bad news?”
I cup her cheek, smoothing the worried furrow between her brows. “Don’t worry about it. Dad will deal with him.”
Wouldn’t be the first time. Jimmy has an unfortunate tendency of sinking himself in hot water. It’s precisely why he could never take ownership of Benson Farmstead. I still wasn’t willing to take any chances, which turned out to be my best decision yet.
That’s why I turn away from the unsavory scene playing out. Paisley follows my lead, allowing me to guide her to more favorable outcomes. Bags stuffed full of clothes line the floor.
“All set,” Monica chirps from behind the register.
My wife attempts to block my path to completing the purchase. “I’m flattered, husband. Truly. But this is too much.”
“Not possible. Hope it’s becoming clear that I’ll never get too much of you.”
“Which is why you’re showering me with a new wardrobe?”
“All the sparkles and rhinestones your heart desires, Twinkles.” I snatch her hand, lifting our linked fingers to kiss along her knuckles.
She exhales, swaying into my side. “This reminds me of when you bought every stem Sassy had in her shop. You paid off that bartender too. It’s a very expensive habit.”
My lips roam to her inner wrist, breathing in vanilla and sunshine. “I can afford it.”
She rolls her eyes. “Okay, Edward Lewis.”
I bristle under an intense explosion of jealousy. “Who the hell is that?”
My wife laughs as if my reaction is amusing. “It’s the character Richard Gere plays in Pretty Woman .”
“Never seen it,” I grumble.
“That’s a travesty I’ll fix immediately. I’ve actually compared our relationship to theirs on a few occasions.”
That narrows my eyes into a glare. “We’re one of a kind, wife.”
“Yes, of course.” She runs a palm along the snaps of my shirt, soothing the feathers she’s ruffled. “But our story is somewhat of a Cinderella retelling too.”
“Very loosely,” I concede begrudgingly.
“Only the main premise. Rags”—she stabs at her chest before pointing at the shopping bags and wiggling the bling on her finger—“to riches. That’s what you’re doing to me.”
“Are you complaining?”
“Probably not enough.” Paisley rolls her lips between her teeth. “You shouldn’t spend so much money on me. This isn’t…”
My stare bores into hers, daring her to claim we’re not real. “Finish the sentence.”
Her lashes flutter under the weight of my gaze. “This isn’t fake anymore, but it’s very new. I feel weird accepting all of these clothes. It must’ve cost a small fortune.”
Which prompts me to tap my phone to the machine. I don’t bother glancing at the total and wave off the sales associate’s offer for a receipt. Monica grins, dutifully waiting for us to move along. Her stare is unfocused as if she’s mentally tallying her commission and trying not to faint.
“Somebody will stop by to collect the bags,” I tell her before pressing a palm against my wife’s lower back. “We’re going to the next boutique. Bronco Bling is expecting us.”
Paisley tries to slam on the brakes. “You’re not buying me more stuff.”
“We both know I can, and will.” I dip until my lips brush her ear. “You’ll be a good little wife and try everything on for me at home later.”
She trembles against my demand. “Okay.”
“And you can wear your favorite outfit tomorrow.”
She quirks a brow. “Did you make plans for us?”
“I took the liberty of inviting our family over for dinner.”
“Our family?” Her stride is slow while we approach the exit.
The early evening chill smacks my face as I open the door for us to leave. “Yes, as in both. Combined. The one big happy variety that we’ve become.”
Paisley naturally cuddles against me to ward off the cold. “Uh-huh, and what’s the occasion?”
“Figured it’s high time we set the record straight and come clean. No more lies standing in our way.”
“Really?” She smiles up at me, but then a thought seems to occur to her. “Would this include Gemma and Ryder?”
I nod. “Already spoke to them. ”
Her steps falter and my arm tightens around her waist. “What? When?”
“Earlier when I was looking for you.”
Paisley’s eyes round into saucers. “I haven’t told them we got married. Last Gemma heard, you were pressuring me to fake date you.”
“They didn’t seem shocked by the news. I’m sure your parents talked to them.”
She chews on her bottom lip. “I guess.”
“Would you prefer to wait?” A bell jingles overhead when I lead us into the shop. Two associates hover nearby, but wait to be acknowledged. “Since you just accepted that this is real between us.”
She glowers at my smug comment. “Are you actually asking me?”
My head dips in confirmation. “I’ll cancel the chefs if you’re not comfortable sitting everyone down yet.”
Her eyes blow wide again. “What chefs?”
“The duo I hired. It’s a husband-and-wife team, which is fitting. They’ve earned all sorts of prestigious awards for their food, including a James Beard and Best New Restaurant from Food & Wine magazine.”
“I don’t know what that is,” she mumbles.
“It means their food is worthy of your palate. Have you heard of Two Spotted Cows and a Gray Duck? It’s an upscale farm-to-table downtown.” A grumble rises from my stomach in preparation.
“Oh!” Her gasp drowns out my hunger pangs. “They’re viral on TikTok a lot. It looks really fancy.”
My flat expression isn’t surprised to discover where she finds news on the latest hot spots. “Kate and Pat own that place. They’ll be cooking for us, but only if you agree.”
Paisley appears dumbfounded and it takes her several seconds to escape the daze. “How is that possible? Tomorrow is Saturday. Don’t they need to be at their restaurant?”
“I made them an offer they couldn’t refuse.” After cradling her face between my palms, I swoop down to press our lips together.
Her cheeks heat under my touch. “Mhmm, I’m quite familiar with your persuasive tactics.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” she breathes against my mouth.
“The starter course will be served at six sharp.”
“Do you assume I’ll be late?”
“We might be if you don’t get to browsing.” I tip my head toward the eager employees.
She stiffens against me, just remembering where we are. Her gaze sweeps across the interior of Bronco Bling. “Oh, no. I’m done spending your money.”
“You’ve barely begun, wife.” I turn her to the nearest rack and lightly spank her into motion. “My credit card doesn’t have a limit.”
Paisley whirls back toward me. “Are you serious?”
“Try maxing it out and see.”
My twinkly cowgirl is already shaking her head. “Nope, not happening. You’ve given me too much already.”
“Have it your way.” I sweep her into my arms before glancing at the sales-clerks. “We’ll take one of everything in a size six. Send me a bill. ”
“Don’t you dare. This will not end well for you,” my wife mutters.
“Love when that sassy mouth comes out to play.” I lean in and nip at her lips. “You’re itching to get stuffed, huh?”
Her eyes glaze over, and she sags into my hold. “Yes, boss.”
“That was quick.” My cock jerks while I carry her to the truck.
“But accepting no limits won’t be,” Paisley quips.
My wife is determined to test me, and I’m feral for it. “We’ll see how you feel after coming to your senses on my tongue or losing them underneath me.”