He ducked his head into the kitchen. Shelby wasn’t there and no food had been left out. He checked the fridge and found only the beans and cornbread, so he took out leftover roasted chicken legs to go with it. Not that he had any idea how to heat up everything without the microwave.
He’d washed up some in the barn but he still needed a shower. The bathroom door was open, and the one to Shelby’s room closed. Much as it irritated him, he returned to the kitchen and heaped a portion of the food onto a pie tin and stuck it in the oven at a low heat. He briefly considered cheating. All he had to do was keep the microwave from dinging, but if she caught him that would screw up everything.
They would have to renegotiate and he had no intention of making this easy on her. Not only was she trying to take his home away from him—the only home he had left—she was also killing him parading around in those shorts. She had great legs, and he figured she knew it. He’d finally managed to curb errant thoughts of sex during the day, and given himself free reign during showers and bedtime. In a matter of minutes she’d screwed that up for him.
Thinking about the expression on her face when she saw the barn bathroom made him feel better. Wouldn’t have surprised him if she’d gotten in her car and left then and there. Damn, he wished she would have. It wasn’t in his nature to be ugly like that, Violet notwithstanding.
But Shelby had recovered quickly. And he expected that she’d already snuck in a bathroom visit or two while he was outside. That didn’t bother him. She’d be forced to go to the barn sooner or later, and just one time would do it. If the sorry condition of the toilet didn’t, the feral cat that lived part-time in the barn would probably scare some sense into her. The woman didn’t belong here. And Trent was just helping her see that.
The sooner she left, the happier he’d be. Working alone, his schedule was ruthless. Having to think about her was already costing him. So every time his inner voice said he’d never force a lady to use the barn bathroom, he shut it down. This was just another woman trying to take what was his. No warning. No nothing. He couldn’t deal with another loss. Not now. Maybe never.
He took a faster shower than usual. Partly so his supper wouldn’t burn, but mostly out of self-preservation. The moment his soapy hand had touched his cock, his thoughts had gone straight to Shelby. Instead of indulging, he’d turned the water on cold. And cursed her until all the soap ran off his body. It was a sorry day when a man couldn’t even shower in peace.
Her bedroom door was still closed when he settled on the couch with his food and turned on the TV. He’d almost finished eating and was considering seconds when he heard her door open.
He knew she was moving around just behind him but he stayed focused on the television. If she was going outside she’d have to leave via the kitchen.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Would you mind flipping on the porch light? It’s on your side of the house.”
“No problem.” Holding back a grin, he rose with his plate in hand. “I put the stable lights on for—”
Shelby was naked.
Almost.
All she wore was a blue towel. It wrapped around her breasts, tucked in at the side and ended high on her thighs. Another towel was draped over her arm and she held a bar of soap in one hand, a flashlight in the other. On her feet she wore bright yellow flip-flops.
“It seems I forgot to pack my robe,” she said, glancing down at herself. “I hope you don’t mind. I’m just running out to the barn.”
Trent couldn’t find his voice. He couldn’t look away. Trying to swallow didn’t help. His mouth was too dry. “You were wrong,” he finally muttered. “They weren’t crooked.” He flipped the light switch then walked past her, looking straight ahead, as if he had on blinders. “Go ahead, use the front door if you want.”
“What wasn’t crooked?”
Jesus, why had she followed him into the kitchen? “The rails.” He set his plate and fork in the sink, and for the life of him, couldn’t recall where he kept the dish detergent. “I used a level.”
“Oh. False alarm. Sorry.” She smelled good, standing somewhere behind him. Not that he was about to look. “Oops!”
He turned his head.
She was rearranging the towel. “Almost lost the sucker,” she said, pulling the terrycloth snugger.
Her breasts swelled and plumped over the top with each small tug of the towel. He could barely drag his gaze away.
Talk about playing dirty. She was baiting him. And it was working. All the blood and oxygen had rushed south leaving his brain to fend for itself.
Man, he didn’t want to fold this early in the game.
He caught himself staring again and forced his attention back to the sink.
“Okay, well,” she said, “thanks.”
“Sure.” He heard the kitchen door open and close, and he slowly lifted his head for a clear shot of her out the window.
Only he couldn’t see her. What did she do, turn the wrong way? How could she miss the barn?
The hinges squeaked as the door opened. He barely had a second to lower his chin.
“I need to take some clothes. Or I’ll have to come back in a wet towel,” she said with a soft laugh as she crossed the kitchen.
It took all of a second for him to imagine her wearing nothing but a wet towel plastered to her body. His heart pounding like a Derby winner at the finish line, he ordered himself not to watch her exit, then gave up and looked. She was taking her sweet time, making a show of staying on her side of the duct tape.
The woman’s legs were world class, no argument from him. And if he’d had the slightest doubt she was toying with him, it was gone. Guess it was time to prove he was made of stronger stuff than being a dope for a half-naked woman.
He turned to face her, leaned back against the counter and glanced at Mutt, who was curled up by the door. “Hey, boy.” The dog looked up. Trent nodded at Shelby. “Fetch the towel.”
She froze. Her eyes widened at Mutt, who had no clue what the command meant.
Trent smiled and watched her take off to her room as if she had the hounds of Baskerville on her heels.
5
SHELBY HEARD A noise and briefly opened one eye. It was still dark out so she buried her face in the pillow.
The pounding persisted.
She burrowed deeper, grabbing the scratchy blanket at her waist and pulling it over her head.
Someone was knocking, she realized, the exact moment the door opened.
“Shelby? It’s five thirty. Rise and shine.”
She peeled back the blanket and squinted at Trent, who’d poked his head in.
“You awake?” he asked.
“What?” She was still groggy. “Get out of my room.”
“This is the second time I’ve knocked. Don’t you go back to sleep.”
The fog cleared. She felt around for something to throw and discovered her exposed butt. Tugging down the blanket, she scrambled into a sitting position. “Get out, or I swear I’ll scream.”
“That’s okay. Everyone’s already up,” he said. “Come on. This is a ranch. We have hungry animals to feed.”
Catching his smirk before he closed the door, she slid her head under the pillow. Who was he fooling? A ranch, her ass. Which reminded her... She knew she was wearing panties but wanted to be sure.
Groaning, she rolled off the bed and padded to the door. No lock. That’s right. She’d checked last night. Dammit. She’d have to do something about that.
The sleepiness had worn off, thanks to her hospitable host, and she glanced around for her jeans and T-shirt. After grabbing the bag with her toothbrush and other toiletries, she stepped out of her room and stopped dead in front of the bathroom.
She muttered a curse, then headed for the kitchen, resenting the smell of coffee t
he whole way. How could she have forgotten to bring her single-cup brewer with her? She’d have to mooch some from Violet.
Trent was leaning against the counter with a steaming mug in his hand and a smug expression on his face. “You’re welcome to a cup, this being your first day,” he said as she continued to the door without a word. “Not a morning person, huh? You’re living on a ranch now, sweetheart. Better get used to this.”
She let the door slam behind her, not bothering to flip him off. If she gave in to every urge, she’d dislocate her finger. Too late she realized she should’ve brought her flashlight. It was that dark. And not a single light was on in Violet’s trailer. Made Shelby wonder how much earlier than usual Trent had gotten up just to tick her off.
With only one cow, two horses and some chickens, how long did it take to feed the animals? She’d bet he normally didn’t get out of bed until after seven. A pebble poked through her thin rubber flip-flops. She brought her foot up and hopped on the other the last yard to the barn.
She found the string to the bare bulb and a dim light showed her to the sink. It wasn’t in very good shape. Until she’d wiped it down yesterday, the chipped bowl looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in years. And now mud was caked to the sides. Again. From Trent of course.
Today she was going into town. She didn’t care how many chores he threw at her. She needed several jugs of water, a large bowl to use for things like brushing her teeth in her room, and maybe she’d pick up a set of sheets—she could always use spares, even after her stuff arrived. He thought if he made life difficult he’d send her running. The hell with him. She’d show him she was tougher than that. He wanted to show her rustic? Maybe she’d go really old school and keep a chamber pot in her bedroom.
Ew.
Nope. No way.
The thought alone creeped her out.
She saw something small and furry scurry across the hay-scattered ground and willed herself to ignore it. She got busy with her toothbrush and wondered what would happen if they discovered they each owned half, or even part, of the Eager Beaver.
She shuddered at the thought.
God, that name really had to go.
While she wasn’t holding her breath about her chances, it was possible that she’d inherited part of the ranch. Which would send Trent through the roof. He’d do everything he could to make her life miserable.
So much for the quiet peaceful place she’d envisioned.
Last night, traipsing around in the towel, she’d thought she had him for a few minutes. Subtle, he was not. He’d been ogling her since she’d stepped out of the car.
If she was honest, and she needed to be, she’d done some ogling herself. But that wasn’t the point. For the first time in her life, she’d used her sexuality to try and get her way. She’d lost. Okay, fine. But doing that wasn’t her. She felt nothing but shame for stooping so low.
They needed to have a talk. Admittedly, the situation was sudden and awkward. But now that he’d had some time to get used to her, maybe he’d be willing to listen and have a serious, adult discussion. And rip off the silly tape and give her full access to the house.
While rinsing out her mouth she thought she heard something. She turned off the water, quit swishing and listened.
Clucking.
There were chickens. A whole flock. Right behind her. Near her feet. Everywhere. Pecking at the ground between frenzied squawking and wing flapping.
Shelby shrieked when one pecked her bare toe. It didn’t hurt. Just scared the crap out of her.
“Hungry this morning, aren’t you?” Trent pretended to ignore her, smiling at the chickens as he scattered feed on the ground around her. “I know it’s late. But don’t blame Shelby.”
So much for having an adult discussion.
“You’re pathetic,” she said, stepping over the noisy hens, and trying to get away. “No wonder you’re divorced.”
His head came up. Their eyes met.
He looked stunned. As stunned as Shelby herself felt. She didn’t know if he was divorced, but she never should have said that. It wasn’t like her to be so mean.
“Hell, you’re probably right.” He shrugged, as if her words hadn’t fazed him, and threw a final handful of feed. But he couldn’t hide the hurt in his expression.
She watched him walk out of the barn, shame taking a bite out of her. Just because he was being an ass didn’t mean she had to be one. Unless he cut off her access to coffee. Then all bets were off.
* * *
BY MIDMORNING TRENT had finished his barn chores and was almost done with the tractor when he heard the kitchen door slam. He watched Shelby walk to her car and get behind the wheel. She hadn’t mentioned where she was off to, and he wasn’t about to ask.
He wasn’t sorry he woke her up so god-awful early. A lot earlier than he’d risen since he’d moved here. Getting her up at dawn was only right. Thanks to her, he’d tossed and turned most of the night. Jacking off normally relaxed him. But he hadn’t been able to do it without thinking of all that silky skin of hers. Or how her habit of nibbling at her lower lip made her look sweet and vulnerable. He couldn’t afford to think of her in that light. Or he’d feel as if he was throwing her out, putting her on the street. It wasn’t his fault that she’d have to find some other accommodations.
He didn’t know what she did for a living but whatever it was she obviously was doing okay. She could afford that nice car. As for him, this ranch meant everything. He’d put a lot of money and sweat into building the stable and making the place suitable for training. For all the bellyaching he’d done about trying to whip the Eager Beaver back into shape, he was proud of what he’d accomplished. He wasn’t about to let his hard work and dreams go down the drain.
He had a good shot at restoring his reputation and returning to doing what he loved best. Even winning some serious money in the bargain. Solomon had already won two races, and placed in a third. If the gelding could win just a few more decent purses, Trent would not only have enough wins to remind owners he was still in the game, he’d also have the resources for more improvements to the ranch. Might even be able to hire some help so he could concentrate solely on training.
He watched her taillights disappear from view, then turned back to the tractor. All he had to do now was change the oil and he was in business. The engine might’ve taken a while but he was becoming a better mechanic as well as a decent carpenter.
“Why the hell’d you feed my chickens?” Violet seldom left her porch, but she came up right behind him.
Trent sighed, wondering what he’d done to deserve Violet.
“The noise wasn’t bad enough to wake everyone for a mile but you had to use half my scratch, too? That should’ve lasted them four more days.”
He knew she had some in reserve because he’d fixed her feed bin the last time she’d left to do her monthly shopping. “I’ll pick up an extra sack next time I go to town.”
She squinted up at him from under the same brown battered hat she’d owned since he was a kid. “You never feed them. Must’ve had something to do with tormenting that poor girl.”
“Poor girl? I sure didn’t hear you offering her a place to sleep. I know you got a second bedroom in that trailer.”
“Don’t be a jackass.” She turned toward the road but even the dust had already settled. “Is she coming back or did she leave for good?”
“Her clothes are still here.” He only knew because she hadn’t taken the suitcase with her.
“You find out what made her show up out of the blue like that?”
“No.” Trent hesitated. “You?”
She shook her head. “Haven’t talked to her at all today.”
“Come on, Violet, give it to me straight. Do you think she has a claim?”
“Hard to say.”
; He didn’t like the sound of that. There was no mischief in the woman’s face or voice, so he had to believe this mix-up wasn’t as cut and dried as he’d expected it to be.
“Have you talked to your pa yet?”
He shook his head. “They’re visiting my sister and her family in Wyoming,” he said, and rubbed at his tired eyes. “I should call though. Even if they can’t get their hands on the paperwork they might know something.”
Violet was staring at him, her leathery skin wrinkling around her pinched mouth. “You look like crap.”
“Thanks.”
“You get any sleep?”
“Not much.”
She chuckled. “Nope, I don’t imagine you did.”
He took off his hat and slapped it against his thigh, sending up a cloud of dust just as Violet pulled her pipe out of her pocket. She glared at him.
Trent laughed. “I didn’t do it on purpose. Are you ever gonna cut me some slack?” he asked, and caught the beginning of a small smile as she turned toward her double-wide.
“I got a pot of stew simmering. Should be ready in an hour if you’re hungry.”
Okay, now she was scaring him. He watched her climb the steps and disappear into the trailer without giving him another glance. Violet being nice to him had to mean something was about to blow up in his face.
Since he never kept his cell on him while he was working, he went inside and found it in the charger. His parents disliked cell phones, only used a prepaid one in case of an emergency when they traveled. So he called his sister’s landline.
His mother answered.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Trent? Is anything wrong?”
“No. Everything’s fine.” Yeah, he knew he didn’t call them often enough. “How are you and Dad?”
“We’re good. Happy to see the grandkids. I swear your nephew has grown a foot since Christmas.”
“I bet. Emily and Ron are all right?”
Harlequin Blaze June 2015 Box Set: Midnight ThunderFevered NightsCome On OverTriple Time Page 42