Come On Over (7 page)

“Thanks,” Trent murmured, appreciative but irritated. “What, you think I'm a country bumpkin with no taste?”

Her green eyes widened. “Of course not. It's just— Well, this isn't exactly fine jewelry.”

“Nope. It's not. Believe me, I've bought my share of the expensive crap. Just ask my ex-wife.” Trent hadn't meant to throw in the sarcastic remark, and he quickly moved on. “This is different, and it's really nice. Better than nice.”

Shelby blinked and glanced down at the pendant. “Thank you,” she said in a small quiet voice. “That means a lot.”

Weirdly, he believed she was being truthful. His praise had meant something to her. And that gave him the uncomfortable feeling someone had done a number on Shelby's confidence. Even more weird, it pissed him off.

Keep your distance, Kimball. She isn't your friend.

“I plan on going back to working with turquoise and silver and maybe fire art like this while I'm here.” Excitement had crept into her voice. “Hopefully I haven't lost my touch.”

“Good. I need to score points with my sister. I give Emily something like that for Christmas, she'll keep me in chocolate-chip cookies for a year.”

Shelby laughed.

He gestured to the pendant. “You mind?”

For a second she looked startled. “Sure,” she said, lifting it off her shirt. “Or I can take it off.”

“No need. I just want a quickie.”

She coughed, or laughed. Maybe both.

Trent sighed. “I meant a quick look—”

“It's okay. I know.”

The chain put the pendant at collarbone level. He carefully took it from her and angled it to the left, then right.

“How did you do this?” he asked, more impressed each time the light caught on another deep rich color.

“Trade secret.”

He glanced up.

She was smiling. “I'll show you some time. It's pretty cool.”

Trent couldn't drag his gaze away from her perfect pink lips, how they parted slightly. How she might be thinking along the same lines as him. But even one kiss could be trouble.

Shelby took a deep breath that made her chest rise. He released the pendant, but she stayed right where she was. Close. Close enough that all he had to do was lean in a few inches...

She didn't move. Stayed completely still when he brushed his lips across hers. And then she lifted herself on tiptoes a little, just enough to increase the pressure of the light kiss.

Taking his cue, Trent pressed his mouth more firmly against hers. Her lips were soft and yielding, her breath warm and sweet, slipping out in a tiny, tempting puff. She surprised him by putting a tentative hand on his chest and leaning slightly into him. Her shy initiative was enough to take a nip out of his self-control.

Tongues became involved, and he put a hand on her waist. His fingers met with the silky skin below the hem of her T-shirt. It took all of his willpower not to slide his palm up higher.

Her hand slipped up to his shoulder. Fingernails lightly scraped the side of his neck then pushed into his hair. His racing heart jumped gears. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her against his aroused body.

She tensed. “The steak needs to be turned over,” she said, ducking her head. “Or it'll burn.”

The meat was sizzling like crazy and he hadn't heard it. He let her go and watched her flip the T-bone. As soon as his body calmed down he mentally kicked himself. Kissing her was not keeping his distance. Neither was staring at her ass while she bent over to check the food in the oven.

What a goddamn fool he was. One hundred percent certified prime idiot.

He walked to the cabinet under the sink, fished out the list of chores from the wastebasket and stuck the paper back under the fridge magnet.

“After supper we'll go over your share of the chores,” he said without looking at her. “Better set your alarm, sweetheart. You'll have to get up early.”

7

S
HELBY
WAS
OUT
of bed and dressed before the alarm went off at six. It wasn't a hardship since she'd been awake for a while. Embarrassed over last night's misstep, she hadn't slept well.

God. She'd actually kissed Trent. More proof that she was insane. Not at all herself.

While technically
he'd
kissed her, she sure hadn't objected. Or resisted. In fact, she'd fully participated. No matter how she tried to spin things, that was the truth.

Pausing with her hand on the doorknob, she listened to him moving around, then heard the quiet sound of kitchen noises. She really hoped she was right. If he was in the kitchen, she could make a dash to the bathroom without running into him. She wasn't quite up to that yet.

Trent probably wasn't, either. After the kiss his mood had changed. He'd been plain grumpy. She got it. She did. When she was scared, she did a lot of things that she wouldn't do normally. Like kiss him. And think about what he'd look like without those worn jeans.

Him calling her sweetheart pretty much told her that he'd also realized the kiss had been a mistake.

Looking back, it might've been wiser for her to have taken the bait and made herself scarce. Instead they'd gone ahead and eaten dinner together, mostly in uncomfortable silence and very quickly. Then when she'd tried to escape to her room, he'd insisted on going over her list of chores. Today she would learn how to milk a cow. Lucky her.

She made it to the bathroom without seeing him. Hurriedly finished her business, and then let the aroma of coffee lead her to the kitchen and the inevitable.

He was standing at the sink, steaming mug in hand, peering out the window. A faded navy blue T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders.

“Good morning,” she said, after taking a second to admire how his jeans hugged his butt. Dammit. Before he turned, her gaze skittered to the coffeepot. Beside it was a yellow floral cup she hoped was meant for her.

“Help yourself, if you drink coffee.” He gave her frayed jeans a brief look. “Otherwise there's tea in the pantry. Milk in the fridge.”

“Thanks.”

The sugar was sitting out. Organic sugar, according to the bag. She didn't know why that surprised her. No reason Trent wouldn't be as health conscious as the next person.

She poured her coffee, skipped all the other stuff. Her first sip improved her disposition, as had Trent's neutral tone of voice. She was totally okay with them pretending the kiss had never happened. She only hoped he hadn't gotten the wrong idea. Because she wasn't needy and certainly would never barter herself in order to stay on the ranch. But he didn't know her, and no telling how he'd interpreted her actions. All she could really do was make sure it never happened again.

“How's the thumb?”

“Not bad.” He'd stared down at it. “I should probably take off the gauze.”

“Your work gloves might irritate the burn.”

He snorted a laugh. “Too bad. A ranch doesn't run itself. I'd have to be half dead to take a day off, and then I'd still have to feed and water the animals.”

Knowing that was added strictly for her benefit, she tried not to roll her eyes.

“I'll be in the barn,” he said as he topped off his mug. “Come when you're ready.”

“Are we feeding the chickens first?”

“No.” He took a hasty sip. “Violet will take care of them. I'm going to show you how to milk Daisy.”

“You named the cow? How adorable.”

He sighed with disgust. “No, I did not name the cow,” he said. “My six-year-old niece decided to call her Daisy and—it just sorta stuck.” He pulled the door open. “I wouldn't mention it to people around here. They'll laugh you out of town.”

Shelby pressed her lips together and nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Under all his bluster, Trent was a softie. He was very lucky she wouldn't tattle on him.

After several more gulps, she refilled her mug and headed to the barn with it. In the far back Trent had set out a pair of buckets near a weird-looking wooden contraption. She heard a pitiful bleating sound coming from behind the stacked bales in the corner and walked over to investigate.

Shelby gasped with delight. “Oh, my God, you didn't tell me you had a calf.”

“Don't get attached. She's being picked up this afternoon.”

“Why?”

“Because I sold her, that's why. We have too damn many females around here as it is,” he muttered.

“Oh, sweetie, are you gonna miss your mama?” Shelby moved a bit closer to the narrow stall. “Is that mean man separating you from her?”

Several yards away, Trent grunted. “Yeah, you'd do a great job running a ranch.”

The little one seemed curious at first. Then let out a frightened
mawww
and backed away. Shelby wondered what type of treat would be safe to give her. Either she'd ask Violet or look it up online. She wouldn't ask Trent. Leaving the calf in peace, she went over to where the “mean man” was waiting for her. “Who told you that's what I wanted to do?”

He looked up from positioning one of the buckets and frowned. “What else would you do with the Eager Beaver?”

“I want a place that's peaceful and quiet and inspiring where I can work.”

“Making jewelry?”

“Yes.”

“Can't you do that anywhere? You were working in Denver, right?”

“Have you ever lived in a city?”

“Just outside of Dallas. Close enough to count.”

“On a ranch?”

He nodded slowly.

“Go into the city much?”

“Hell no,” he said, his voice trailing off when he must've realized he'd helped make her point.

For good measure she said, “Then you should get it.” She turned away when he'd stared too long and hard at her. There was something about him that made her feel vulnerable. As if with a look he could unearth her deepest secrets. “Anyway, you have to admit, the Eager Beaver isn't much of a ranch.”

“Hey, hold on there—”

“Come on, Trent. You have a cow, some chickens, a dog and a couple of horses. Not exactly a ranching empire.”

“Not just horses... I have American quarter horses,” he said, looking insulted. “Two of them. And Solomon has already won two races.”

She stared back. “Why is it okay to name horses and not cows?”

His gaze narrowed. “You're kidding, right?”

“No. Enlighten me.”

“It's different.”

“Obviously.” She truly didn't understand. “But what makes it different?”

“You're trying to get out of milking Dai—the cow,” he said, jabbing a finger at her. “Won't happen.”

He was wrong but she didn't bother correcting him. Instead she watched him scoop some grain into one of the buckets and then set it in front of the wooden thing that looked like some sort of torture device.

A moment later he led Daisy out from somewhere in the back of the barn. “You'll want to put her in this head catch while you milk her.”

“Won't that hurt her?”

“Of course not. Watch.”

Daisy had no problem with the setup. She dove into the grain with relish.

Trent turned the second bucket over closer to her hind end before bringing out a medium-size pail from a cabinet. “I'll show you what to do, then you try it.”

She watched him as he sat on the overturned bucket, strategically placed the steel pail, grabbed a teat and started squeezing. Milk streamed into the pail. It looked simple enough but Shelby was willing to admit she was nervous. What if she hurt Daisy?

“Can you see what I'm doing?”

Shelby nodded.

“Ready to give it a try?”

“I think so,” she said in a stupidly girly voice.

Trent rose and stepped back. “Better hurry before she finishes her grain.”

Taking a deep breath, Shelby sat on the bucket.

“Now, squeeze the top of the teat, then close the rest of your fingers down on it one at a time and tug gently.”

She did exactly what he told her to do. And nothing happened.

“Don't worry. It takes some practice. Keep trying.”

Her next attempt produced a few drops. She looked up to see Trent grinning. “I can't do it with you watching.”

“I want to make sure she doesn't kick you.”

Shelby half whined, half whimpered.

“Here,” he said, laughing. “I'll help you.” She started to get to her feet, but he said, “No, stay right there.”

After some jockeying for a suitable position, Trent crouched behind her. She turned to see what he was doing and the stubble on his chin grazed her cheek. He needed a shave, yet he smelled good.

“Stay facing Daisy,” he said quietly, and put his arms around Shelby so that her back was pressed to his chest. “Give me your hands.”

Her heart took a giant leap. “Is this really necessary?”

“Put out your hands.”

She did as he asked, unclear as to his intentions. Was he trying to scare her off? Show her the kiss hadn't affected him in the least? More likely, he hadn't given it a second thought.

His palms were tough and calloused but less so than she'd expected. He guided her to the top of the teat, and then closed his large hands over her much smaller ones. “This is the amount of pressure you want to use,” he said. “Can you feel what I mean?”

Oh, she felt something, all right. Tingling. Excitement. His body heat. His lips against her hair. She was wrong of course, about that part, and wrong to feel the sudden longing to repeat last night's kiss.

She really was losing it.

“Shelby?” He leaned back slightly. “You okay?”

“Fine.” For heaven's sake, she'd been lounging against him as if he was a chair. Straightening, she cleared her throat. “I had a leg cramp.”

“Need to walk it out?”

“No. Let's finish this.”

He said nothing, but she felt the vibration of his silent laughter, reminding her how irritating he could be.

She tried to relax and let him guide her hands but it just wasn't happening. “You know what,” she said, struggling to her feet, not caring if she knocked him over. “I think I'll do better without you helping. No offense.”

Trent's little smirk was deliberate, or she'd eat her new Gucci purse. “You sure about that?”

“No.” She smiled. Let him guess if she meant on both counts. “But I'm willing to try. I bet you have more important things to do.”

He folded his arms across his chest, his boots planted a couple of feet apart. The stance seemed to narrow his waist and broaden his shoulders. He probably knew it and stood like that on purpose.

“I said, go.”

“In a minute. I just want to watch you get started.”

Shelby huffed. “Well, make yourself useful and get me a second pail so I won't have to get up.”

His eyebrows rose. “While I appreciate your optimism, I doubt that'll be a problem.” He dropped his arms to his sides. “Look, if she doesn't give you much milk, don't worry about it. Milking takes practice and Daisy can be prickly. And do not try to milk her from the back.”

“Got it.”

His hesitation was beginning to unnerve her.

Finally, he made a move to leave. “I'll be in the kitchen or the stable.” He rubbed his arms as he turned to go. “It's kind of chilly this morning.”

While he'd barely looked at her, something made her glance down at her T-shirt. And see her tightened nipples straining against the stretchy fabric.

* * *

T
RENT
HAD
JUST
put on a second pot of coffee and was debating rescuing Shelby when he heard the screen door open. He didn't blame her for giving up early. Daisy could be stubborn as all get-out. But he'd give Shelby some grief, anyway. He turned just as she set two full pails of milk on the kitchen counter.

“I wasn't sure if I should keep going. Daisy finished her grain and was getting antsy so I stopped.”

Once he got past the shock he nodded. “Violet helped you.”

“Excuse me.” She frowned, looking insulted. “I haven't seen Violet since the day I arrived. Like you said, it wasn't hard. Daisy just needed a pep talk.”

He eyed the pails. Okay, she deserved to be a little smug. “Glad it was easy. That's your chore from now on.”

Some of the smugness slipped. But she nodded. “So, do you have pitchers? I assume this goes in the fridge?”

“Keep what you want and give the rest to Violet.” He thought a moment. Yeah, he really needed for Violet to bend her ear. “I'll take it to her later.”

Shelby grinned. “Afraid she'll tell me all your secrets?”

“If you think I'd let that old busybody know anything about me, you're out of your mind.”

“Oh, that's probably true,” she said, sighing. Then she studied Trent, her eyes even more green with the sunlight flooding in through the window. “You like her.”

“Who?”

“You do,” Shelby said matter-of-factly. “And she likes you. It's nice.”

He frowned at the slight wistfulness in her voice. “Not that nice. Wait until you've been around a while,” he said, and refilled his mug. “Now, what's that smile for?”

She walked over to him, and he got a bit itchy until he saw she only wanted coffee. “Good to know you haven't packed my bags and loaded my car.”

He shouldn't have felt disappointed. What had he expected? Another kiss? Right, as if the first one hadn't been a dumb mistake. Damn, he wished he could forget how sweet she'd tasted. Forget the softness and warmth of her body pressed against him. Two nights in a row now, he hadn't slept for thinking about her.

“Look, when I said wait till you've been around awhile, I meant until your belongings are delivered. We should know who owns the Eager Beaver by then.” Was it his imagination or was she struggling to keep a straight face? “As soon as you redirect the movers, you can hit the road. Better yet, leave me a forwarding address. I'd be happy to take care of it for you.”