Come On Over (9 page)

Wearing a clean T-shirt, his hair damp, he stood in the doorway. For how long was anyone's guess. Judging by his expression, he'd heard plenty.

* * *

T
RENT
WAS
AT
a loss. The second he'd figured out she was on her cell he should've made himself scarce.

“Hey, good timing. Dinner's ready.” Shelby forced a quick smile, then couldn't turn away fast enough. “I have this stupid headache or I would've made gravy. Should I leave out the stuff for you, or put everything away?”

“Leave it.”

She cleared her throat. “So, the salad is done. I made a simple dressing. It's in the fridge. Don't feel obligated—it won't hurt my feelings if you don't like Italian,” she said with her back to him while washing and drying her hands. “Please, go ahead and eat. I'll have something later after I get rid of this headache.”

He didn't know Shelby well, but it was obvious she was uncomfortable. The smart thing for him to do was pretend he'd forgotten something outside. Let her have her privacy until she could escape to her room.

But he knew a little of what she might be going through, and he'd feel like shit if he just did the easy thing.

“Shelby?”

“Huh?” If she continued drying her hands she wouldn't have any skin left.

“I overheard part of your conversation. I'm sorry for that.”

She turned slowly to face him. “What did you hear?” No tears, but her eyes were misty, more sad than embarrassed.

If he made her cry he'd kick himself into next month. “I know you were engaged and now you're not.”

She smiled a little. “Is that a stab at diplomacy?”

Trent sighed, wishing he'd just walked on outside. “Look, you know I'm divorced, and no, it doesn't make me an expert on breakups. But I wanted to say that it might feel like the end of the world right now, but it gets easier if not better. And take it easy on yourself. Respect the grieving period, but remember there's still life on the other side.” He shrugged. “Whatever happens, trust your instincts. That's how animals survive. We could learn a lot from them.” Something he needed to get through his thick skull, himself.

Shelby nodded, but was giving him the oddest look. Probably hadn't expected him to be so talkative. That made two of them.

“Ending the engagement was for the best. It was scary at first, but a huge relief, too. I'm good with my decision,” she said. “I honestly am okay. It's just—” Her voice cracked and she looked away. “I need to lie down for a bit. It's this headache—”

Head down, she started for the door to the living room. He stepped aside to let her pass, and was surprised when she stopped to put a hand on his arm.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“No problem.” He hadn't really done anything. So he'd fessed up to overhearing her phone conversation. As for the advice, normally he was the last person he'd listen to. But he knew something about the pain of lost love.

“I mean it. Thanks.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek.

His arms came up around her. Not planned. It was the worst possible thing he could do. So he tried to mitigate the situation by patting her back.

Shelby looped her arms around his neck and gave him a light squeeze. Her soft breasts pressing against his chest had his body responding before he could order himself to heel. Luckily she retreated before discovering the flag had been raised.

He plowed a hand through his damp hair, hoping to keep her attention directed above his chest. “I don't mind waiting to eat.”

“No, please, don't wait.” She smiled, but it wasn't her usual. The woman could light the whole house without electricity when she wanted.

“Hey, listen,” he said as she turned. “Tomorrow we should set up a place where you can work on your jewelry.”

She blinked. “That might be premature,” she said cautiously. “Don't you think?”

“No, not necessarily.” He understood what she was getting at, and he hoped he wasn't being a first-class sucker. “How about we make a deal? Right now. No matter what happens with the Eager Beaver, no matter who holds the winning ticket, the other person has a grace period, two or three months before they have to clear out—whatever you think is fair. What do you say?”

She studied him a moment. “You don't have to be nice to me.”

Trent laughed.

“I meant extra nice because of what you heard back there.” She made a vague gesture. “I'm really fine.”

“I believe you. Do we have a deal?”

She bit at her lip which made him want to forget the whole thing. “How about three months?”

“Three months,” he agreed.

Reluctantly he accepted the hand she'd extended, knowing full well this agreement came with a catch. This woman was going to have him tied up in a hundred knots. More like a thousand if they lasted the entire three months. Knowing what he did now, he couldn't touch her again. No matter how tempting.

She might think everything was okay, but based on his own experience, the shock might not have worn off yet. He seriously doubted she knew how she felt and he wasn't about to get caught in the middle of anything.

9

“G
ET
YOUR
LAZY
ass out of the way.” Trent waited for the dog to move. Mutt barely lifted his head then settled in a more comfortable position in the loose hay. “Why aren't you bothering Shelby? I thought she was your new best friend.”

Mutt continued to ignore him.

Trent leaned the pitchfork against the barn wall and yanked off his hat. The temperature was too warm for September. Course in a matter of weeks he'd be looking over his shoulder for the first sign of snow and griping about that.

Since making the deal with Shelby two days ago, everything seemed to irritate him. He knew the cause. And it wasn't the fourteen-hour days he'd been working. The look-but-don't-touch vow he'd made to himself seemed to be hanging over his head like a rain cloud ready to burst. It didn't make any sense because nothing had changed since day one. He was through with women. Not with sex, just emotional involvement.

The part where you laid your heart on the line never knowing when it would get trampled. Uncomplicated sex was the way to go.

Someday soon he'd dip his bucket in the well again. But it wouldn't be anywhere close to home. And not with a woman who had any expectations beyond a satisfying few hours in bed. Or a woman who was on the rebound. That could get sticky.

Another thing irking him was Violet's radio silence. She had practically pulled a disappearing act. She hadn't been sitting on her porch or coming out to collect eggs and making wisecracks. It had gotten so bad that he'd worried she was sick and knocked on her door two days ago. She'd about taken his head off for disturbing her television program.

While he was relieved her health appeared okay, he couldn't help worrying that she was either up to no good or knew something about the Eager Beaver she wasn't anxious to reveal. By the time the horses were fed, the idea of checking on her again wouldn't let him be. Something was on that old lady's mind, and dammit, he didn't need any more surprises.

Leaving Mutt to soak up the sun, Trent headed over to the double-wide. Expecting to hear himself being called every name in the book, he knocked. Violet swung the door open and said, “'Bout time you came by. What if I'd had a heart attack or something?”

She moved back to let him in. A very rare experience that made him even more nervous. He shook his head as he passed her into the living room. The trailer had all the standard conveniences, along with a big plasma TV, and was neat as a pin.

“Now you know I won't worry about that,” he said. “Seeing as how you've told me yourself you don't have a heart.”

She gave him a wicked look. “For the next five minutes you are to keep your mouth shut, you hear me?”

“What are you talking about? Jesus, it smells like smoke in here. Don't you ever open any windows?”

“Okay, you're just eating up your minutes, and if you keep it up, you're not gonna hear something that you ought.”

“Fine,” he said, his heart beating fast, and not from secondhand smoke. Dammit. She did know something. But if she knew the Eager Beaver was his, she would have said already. On the other hand, when had Violet done anything the easy way.

“You gotta swear on your great-granddaddy's grave that what I'm about to tell you is just between us. That means you don't call your momma or tell your friends or your...houseguest. You can talk to me, but that's it.”

“Okay, now I'm worried. Did you fall and hit your head?”

“Shush, I'm telling you something. Swear now. Right now, that you won't say a word 'bout this to anyone.”

“Okay, okay. I swear.”

“The Eager Beaver is yours. And in two weeks, I'll have what I need to prove it.”

The double-wide seemed to sway. “What? How? Why in two weeks?”

Violet glared at him. “Because that's how long it'll take me to get the paperwork.”

Trent didn't like this, didn't like it one bit. “You mean the deed?”

“I ain't saying no more about it.” Violet got that stubborn glint in her eye that always meant trouble. “Now, get out of here. My shows are coming on.”

* * *

T
WO
HOURS
AND
two phone calls later, Trent still couldn't make heads or tails out of the situation. His mom had barely set foot in the door after returning from her trip when he'd called to see if she'd been to the bank yet. She must've sensed his panic because she checked their safe deposit box and got back to him in thirty minutes. Turned out Violet was a trustee of some kind. Legally. According to a handwritten document that had been notarized. That was all his mother could find. What in the hell had his great-granddad been thinking? If Trent didn't end up with an ulcer before this mess got straightened out it would be a damn miracle.

It was Mutt that pulled him out of his swirling thoughts. The dog raised his head, ears perked.

Seconds later Trent heard an engine and stuck his head out of the barn. It was his neighbor. Jimmy parked his four-wheeler behind Shelby's car and then circled the sedan, checking out the chrome wheels.

“You got some fancy company?” he asked when he saw Trent.

“Not exactly.” Of all the times for Jimmy to come by. Instead of being the happiest man in Salina County that his home still belonged to him, Trent had been doing some thinking. Having thoughts he shouldn't be bothered with. Like how Shelby was gonna take the news, and how they'd just gotten to a real civil place but that was tricky, too. And now, Jimmy.

“What's going on?” he asked, as much to himself as to his company.

“Dad and Cal are busy sorting and weighing calves.” Jimmy gave the car a final once-over before joining Trent outside the barn. “Any chance you can help me with weaning vaccinations?”

Trent eyed the younger man. He was a tall husky guy, much like his brother Cal, only Jimmy wasn't sure he wanted to stick around and be a rancher. He had a long list of chores he hated, all of them relating to cattle, something which he and Trent had in common.

“You can't do that by yourself?” Trent said, figuring there was more to Jimmy's request. “You wouldn't be doing some branding now, would you?”

Jimmy's wry grin confirmed Trent's suspicion.

“Nope. No way.” Trent peeled off a glove. “You know how much I hate branding.”

“Well, me, too.”

“Yeah, too bad. Talk your dad into breeding horses.”

“Come on, Kimball. We'll hit the Watering Hole afterward. All the beer you can drink on me.”

“Nope.” Trent bent over to pick up Mutt's water bowl. He liked Jimmy, and he even felt for the guy. Growing up on a ranch in a place as isolated as Blackfoot Falls with limited skills, his options were few. He could end up staying on the family ranch for the rest of his life.

“Holy shit. Who is that?”

Trent didn't have to turn around to know who Jimmy meant. “Keep your mouth open like that and you'll be coughing up flies for a week.”

Jimmy finally closed his mouth but he didn't move, just kept staring. “Come on, who is she?”

Trent turned, curious whether Shelby could see them. She was standing on the porch wearing her normal work clothes—tight faded jeans, ripped in several places and a white T-shirt. This one wasn't as snug as some of the others. But it didn't hide anything, either.

“That's Shelby,” he said, still not sure if she'd seen them. “Quit staring like a jackass.”

“Is she yours?”

“Jesus.” Trent laughed, shook his head. “You have about as much chance with her as you have of getting me to help you brand calves.”

Jimmy patted down his curly blond hair. It had a tendency to stick out. Like now. “Call her over. Introduce us.”

“You're barking up the wrong tree, kid.”

Shelby shaded her eyes and searched the cloudless sky. Hoping to spot a hawk, he imagined. She loved watching them wheel and soar. Occasionally she'd catch sight of an eagle, and get as excited as a five-year-old on Christmas morning. She stepped off the porch and went straight for the double-wide.

Seeing her got Mutt up and moving. Tail wagging, he chased after her. She stopped to pet him, noticed them standing in the shadow of the barn, and waved.

Jimmy responded with a raised hand and a flushed face. “Don't just stand there. Ask her to come over here,” he grumbled.

Trent had been hoping she wouldn't, but it was better than her knocking on Violet's door. He let out a breath when she walked toward them.

“Hello,” she said, smiling at Jimmy and then glancing at Trent. “I hope I'm not interrupting.”

“Nah, I came to do some arm-twisting,” Jimmy said, all teeth.

Shelby grinned. “Is it working?”

“Not with the rotten mood he's in.”

“Oh, I thought it was just me.”

Holding in a curse, Trent looked at Mutt's water bowl and remembered he was supposed to fill it. “Shelby, this is Jimmy,” Trent said, gesturing. “Jimmy...Shelby. I'm going back to work.”

“Wait.” Shelby caught his arm as he turned. “Where's the circuit breaker?”

“You blew a fuse?”

“I'm sure I just tripped it.”

“I'll take care of it,” Trent muttered, annoyed that he'd caught a whiff of her. She had no business smelling this good while she was making her jewelry. Her scent was the equivalent of an earworm. It would stick with him for the rest of the day. Shit. How was he going to hold it together when he'd have to smell her, see her, every day for three months.

“Um, you should probably show me where the box is located.”

He cleared his throat. “So, you trip fuses a lot?”

She ducked her head. “I wouldn't say a lot...”

“Shoot, I'll show her where it is,” Jimmy said with a sly grin for Trent. “I know you're busy.”

“If you still want help with the vaccinations I'll have time later. Tomorrow I'm leaving at first light and I'll be gone all day.” He felt Shelby's eyes on him. Probably because he hadn't mentioned he was going anywhere. Not that he needed her permission.

Jimmy sighed. “Still a no on the branding, huh?”

In answer, Trent grabbed the pitchfork he'd left against the wall and with the bowl, headed toward the back of the barn. A second before he was out of earshot, he heard Jimmy ask, “So, have you been to the Watering Hole yet?”

* * *

S
HELBY
WISHED
SHE
knew what was bothering Trent. She'd narrowed the list to two possibilities, neither of which she wanted to bring up. Though if he regretted agreeing to a grace period, she needed to know pretty quick.

The movers had phoned to make a delivery appointment. Thankfully the call had gone to voice mail while she was showering. She still hadn't made up her mind. Did she let them bring her belongings? Or tell them to store everything?

Storage would be the obvious choice if Blackfoot Falls had an adequate facility that allowed her access. The hardware store owner kept four containers in his storage barn available to rent. She'd checked, but they were all taken.

Getting her hands on the deed to the Eager Beaver wasn't an issue. At least in terms of taking possession of her things. She already knew all she had packed away was her grandfather's will.

Since it was getting late, she poured herself a cup of decaf, then glanced out the kitchen window. No Trent. No Violet. Not even Mutt was in sight. As far as she knew, Jimmy had left as soon as she'd gone back to work.

In spite of herself, she wondered where Trent was going in the morning. He hadn't said, though he had no reason to tell her anything about his schedule, or his life. Especially if the point of leaving tomorrow was to get away from her.

Three evenings ago, after the call from her mom, he'd wowed her with his compassion and insight. The next day? Boom. He'd become a completely different person.

He hadn't been rude, not even all that grumpy. The change was more subtle than that. He'd seemed almost...detached. A couple of times he'd mentioned fall was a busy season, and while she didn't doubt it, she recognized it was also an excuse not to engage with her.

“Hey...” The man in question strolled into the kitchen, surprising her since she'd assumed he was outside.

She saw his gaze zero in on the coffeemaker. “It's decaf.”

He made a wry face.

“Columbian decaf. It's good.” Oh, damn, the coffeemaker was his, and she was tying it up. She set down her mug. “I'll make a fresh pot.”

“No, that's okay.”

She was already opening the upper cabinet where he kept the mugs, coffee and sugar.

“I shouldn't stay up late, anyway.” He lightly touched the small of her back as he reached around her to grab a mug.

The contact startled her, made her clumsy. “Right.” She almost knocked over her coffee trying to slip out of his way. “You're leaving early.”

“I can wait, head out around nine-thirty,” he said, concentrating on his mug. “If you thought you might wanna go with—” He shook his head, frowned. “I'm saying this backward.”

She didn't care. She'd heard the important part. What a relief he wasn't upset with her... “Go where?”

“Have you thought about renting a booth at the county fair?” He turned to face her and must've noticed she was confused. “To sell your jewelry.”

“Huh. The fair?”

“I know you want to set up an online business but you mentioned festivals are a good place for the style you make. So, why not at a fair?”

“I don't know. I've never been... I thought a county fair would be about livestock and baking contests.”

Smiling, he nodded. “It is. But there are also crafts on display and for sale. Afraid I can't be more specific.” One corner of his mouth lifted a bit higher than the other. “It's been a long time since I've gone to one, myself.”