Harlequin Blaze June 2015 Box Set: Midnight ThunderFevered NightsCome On OverTriple Time

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Yes.” She paused. “Trent Edgar Kimball, you better not be lying to me. Something is wrong. I can feel it.”

  “No, Mom, nothing. I promise.” It bothered him to picture her face, flushed with worry. Course she fretted about everything while letting his father make the big decisions. Which hadn’t always worked out so well for them. “I have a question about the Eager Beaver, that’s all. I was wondering if you had the deed in your safe deposit box at the bank.”

  “Well, huh. I’m not sure. Hold on. Let me ask your dad.” There was talking and laughter in the background, then her muffled voice, “Bob, it’s Trent. He wants to know if we have the deed to the Eager Beaver.”

  The long silence that followed made him edgy. He walked to the window and peered between the blinds. Not that he expected Shelby home this soon. She’d probably just arrived in town. Assuming that’s where she was headed.

  “Trent?”

  “I’m here, Mom.”

  “Your father doesn’t remember what kind of paperwork we have. He’s assuming it’s a deed since there was never a mortgage on the place. Your grandfather paid off any debts long before he passed it down to your dad. I know for certain we have nothing on the lease agreement with Violet. That was a handshake deal. Why are you asking?”

  “What lease agreement?”

  “Oh, honey, I’m not sure. It’s from years ago. Hold on. Your father is talking to me at the same time. What is it, Bob?”

  Trent heard his dad’s voice but nothing he could make out. It would be simpler if he got on the phone and explained himself, but he wouldn’t. He liked to pretend he had a head for business, which couldn’t be further from the truth. So he always seemed to find a middleman he could blame for any “miscommunications.” Trent loved his dad but he’d never wanted to follow in his footsteps. Whatever the man’s faults, though, his parents seemed to have a happy marriage and that was good enough in Trent’s book. Hell, he’d failed at keeping his own marriage intact.

  “Trent? Your dad says the deal was between Violet and your great-grandfather. She can stay on the land as long as she wants in exchange for paying the taxes. As far as checking on the deed, I can go to the bank next Wednesday. We should be home the night before.”

  “Nobody told me about Violet,” he muttered, thinking about all those times she’d pissed him off and he’d threatened to give her the boot. She’d never said a word about her lease deal. Course she knew he wasn’t serious. They just liked to rile each other. But still...

  “She’s been there forever. No one really thought anything of it. Why are you asking about the deed?” She let out a soft gasp then lowered her voice. “You’re not in financial trouble, are you, honey?”

  “No, Mom. Nothing like that. Does the name Harold Foster ring a bell? Don’t ask Dad,” he added quickly. The last thing he needed was everyone making a big issue out of this. Or his dad blowing smoke. “I’m just curious.”

  “Foster. Sounds familiar. Sure you don’t want me to ask?”

  “Actually, I’d prefer you don’t bring it up at all.”

  “All right.” She knew not to ask why. Sometimes the Eager Beaver could be a touchy issue between Trent and his dad, who liked to go on and on about the curse. “I’ll call you next Wednesday after I go to the bank.”

  “Thanks. Say hey to everyone for me.”

  “I will. Can I tell them we’ll see you for Thanksgiving?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.” He hung up, still confused, and a little angry.

  The deal with Violet... He could see how it was one of those things everyone just accepted and never spoke of. Especially since the ranch had been abandoned twice, each time for a few years. It was probably a good thing Violet had been around to deter vandalism or squatting. What bothered him was the feeling he had that Violet knew more than she was letting on. Even after denying it to his face less than an hour ago.

  * * *

  THE PEOPLE IN Blackfoot Falls seemed friendly. And, naturally, curious. But not nearly as curious as Shelby had expected. She hoped that meant a lot of tourists passed through. If so, that would be excellent for her. She might be able to find a shop owner willing to sell her jewelry on consignment. Though she was getting a bit ahead of herself. So far all she’d done was cruise down Main Street to get her bearings, then parked and walked two blocks to Abe’s Variety Store.

  Not too many folks were out. She’d noticed the parking lot at the Food Mart was crowded, probably because it was Saturday. Though she suspected weekends in a ranching community meant something different than they did for city people.

  Most everyone smiled or nodded to her. A couple of young women stared, but that was it. Folks must’ve pegged her for a tourist or visiting relative. The town was small enough that a stranger would stick out.

  She stopped outside the variety store and scanned the bulletin board. There was a flyer for the county fair, another announcing Halloween happenings for the kiddies. Also, ads for sale items, but no upcoming festivals. That was a bummer. Her jewelry would sell well at a festival. Although she hadn’t actually tried to sell any of her pieces since college.

  After she’d started working as a designer for the Williamsons, she’d given the items she made on the side as gifts. God forbid her tacky private pieces be associated with the snooty Williamson Jewelers in any way. No, they’d practically owned her. Too bad it had taken her so long to see that.

  A bell above the door jingled as she stepped inside the store. The older man behind the counter looked up. One of the women he was talking to turned and gave her the once-over. Shelby just smiled and went in search of sheets. Although, judging by the size of the store and the type of merchandise she could see on the front shelves, she wasn’t expecting much.

  “Anything I can help you with, young lady?” The man from behind the counter approached just as she found a package of sheets.

  “Hi. I don’t suppose you have any colors besides white?” Or with a decent thread count, she thought, but kept that to herself.

  “Not in stock, no. But I can order any color and size you want.” He frowned at her over the glasses resting on his bulbous nose. “I figured you were staying at the Sundance, but then you wouldn’t be needing sheets.”

  “The Sundance?”

  “It’s part dude ranch. Owned by the McAllister family,” he said, waiting expectantly for her to fill in the blanks.

  “I’m staying at the Eager Beaver.”

  “Okay.” He nodded. “The Kimballs’ place. You must be a friend of Trent’s.”

  Her heart sank. “Um, not exactly,” she said and realized too late she should’ve gone with his assumption.

  “You can’t be related to Violet. I don’t believe she has any family.”

  The Kimballs’ place kept echoing in her brain. “By the way, I’m Shelby,” she said and gave him a bright smile.

  “I’m Abe, like it says out front.” He scratched his balding head.

  “Have you lived here long, Abe?” She kept her tone casual and picked up a plastic-wrapped pillowcase.

  “All my life.”

  “Then you must know the Kimballs pretty well.”

  “Oh, yeah, I went to school with Trent’s pa. Bob and I used to go hunting together. Now, how is it you’re related to the family?”

  “Actually, my last name is Foster.” She looked for a sign of recognition in his face and found none. “My great-grandfather and Trent’s were partners at the Eager Beaver.”

  He reared back with a look of surprise. “When was that?”

  “Well, way, way before your time, of course.”

  Her subtle compliment registered, and she caught his blush before he turned away. “Louise, Sadie, come over here a minute, would ya?”

  It took all of three seconds for the two women to sidle up to him and check h
er out.

  “This here is Sadie.” He gestured to the fifty-something brunette with a warm smile. “She owns the Watering Hole.”

  “And I’m also running for mayor.” She stuck her hand out. “And you are?”

  “Good grief, woman, do you always have to jump the gun?” Abe gave a snort of disgust, sounding much like Trent with Violet.

  “Shelby.” She grinned and shook Sadie’s hand.

  “I’m Louise,” the other woman chimed in. “Part owner of the fabric store down the block. So, you’re staying out at the Kimballs’ ranch.”

  Shelby held in a sigh. Yes, it was clear the women were eavesdropping, but it was the Kimballs’ ranch reference that got to her. Again.

  “Do you two even wanna know why I asked you over here?” Abe looked from one to the other.

  “Foster doesn’t ring a bell with me, either,” Louise said.

  Sadie was frowning and shaking her head.

  Abe threw up his hands and walked away.

  For the next two hours, Shelby explored the town and heard “oh, the Kimballs’ ranch” so many times she wanted to scream.

  Sadly, she was starting to like the name Eager Beaver.

  6

  TRENT WAS IN the stable when he heard the car pull up. Shelby had been gone most of the day, and he’d wondered if she’d driven all the way to Kalispell. He waited until the car door opened and closed before he strolled outside.

  She grabbed an armful of packages from the backseat and immediately dropped one. He didn’t make it to her in time to pick it up. She scooped it up herself. Standing back, he watched her redistribute her haul and close the door with her hip.

  “Need help?”

  “No, thank you.” She gave him a small polite smile, then started toward the kitchen door.

  If she was still pissed at him over the stunt he’d pulled this morning, he couldn’t tell. She didn’t seem to be in a particularly bad mood but more resigned. Asking around town about the Eager Beaver had probably dashed her hopes.

  Feeling like he was on shaky ground himself, he understood completely. After hanging up with his mom, he’d called Colby. His brother hadn’t heard anything about Foster, or the deal with Violet, either. But that didn’t make Trent feel any less like a damn fool, and he’d wasted half the day because of it.

  And here he had so much to do. Yet he’d been working in fits and starts, preoccupied with memories of the times he and Violet had bickered over one thing or another. A couple of those instances had ended with him threatening to kick her off the ranch. Anyway, she always gave as good as she got. But how smug she must’ve felt inside. To give her credit, she’d never shown it. He had a feeling she knew he had a soft spot for her, but that was a fact he would never, ever acknowledge.

  So far, he hadn’t said a word to her about the conversation with his mom. He wasn’t sure why since she might be able to put his fears to rest. His fear that Shelby had a legitimate claim. That he would have to buy her out or divvy up the place with her. Yeah, he still had some money, but he wanted it to go toward horses and training expenses. He couldn’t afford to start over again.

  The more he thought about the situation, the weirder it seemed. Violet loved a good argument and she liked poking at him but she’d never been outright mean. If she knew something that would settle the dispute with Shelby, he figured she’d speak up.

  Maybe she was keeping quiet to protect him.

  The thought made his stomach turn.

  He glanced at the double-wide. Violet, who sat on her porch every afternoon, rain or shine, was nowhere to be seen. Beyond the trailer clouds were gathering over the foothills. In another hour or so it would be dark. He decided to finish cleaning his saddle tomorrow and tossed aside the rag and went inside.

  Shelby’s door was closed and he could hear her moving around in her room. After finding out how deep the Kimball roots went, maybe she was packing. The thought cheered him. He held nothing against the woman, but the sooner he got her and her tempting backside out of here the better.

  He’d skipped lunch and still wasn’t hungry. But with his improved mood he figured he’d heat the leftover beans and cornbread, maybe broil the T-bone after he took a shower. The steak was big enough to share with Shelby. After all, he wouldn’t want to send her off hungry.

  Thirty minutes later he’d finished showering and was checking the food in the oven when Shelby entered the kitchen. She was wearing old faded jeans and a snug white T-shirt that came to just above her waist and exposed a narrow strip of skin. They didn’t seem like traveling clothes.

  Not that he was capable of being all that logical. It wasn’t only the unexpected peek that had his heart accelerating. Wearing this getup she was giving him a real good look at her shape. Small waist, nice curvy hips, not too thin. To his mind, the perfect woman’s body. What he couldn’t figure out was how his mouth could water and go dry at the same time.

  “Be careful,” she said, just as his thumb made contact with the blistering hot casserole dish.

  “Son of a—” He jerked his hand away and burned the back of his knuckle on the oven rack.

  Trent managed to bite off a pithy four-letter word. His damn thumb felt like it was on fire.

  Slowly shaking her head, Shelby stared at his hand. “Ever heard of an oven mitt?”

  “Your concern is touching.”

  “I’d have a look,” she said, glancing at the blue tape on the linoleum. “But you’re too far over. I’d have to cross into enemy territory.”

  “Very funny.” He couldn’t remember if he was supposed to use cold water or not. “For your information, I was heating this up for the two of us. And I was even gonna throw in the T-bone.”

  Shelby’s gaze slid to the steak on the counter. “You’re going to let a minor burn stop you?”

  Sighing, Trent used the toe of his boot to kick the oven door shut. His thumb was pretty red, so were his knuckles. It wouldn’t be fun wearing work gloves tomorrow.

  “Seriously, you should run cold water over that hand then apply some Neosporin. If you don’t have any, I’ve got a first-aid kit in my car.”

  “Worried you won’t get dinner?”

  “I am,” she said with a smile, but he could see that she was genuinely concerned.

  Maybe he needed to take it more seriously. While she frowned at his thumb, he studied her face. She had a cute nose. A weird thing for him to notice. Crazy long lashes. Could be fake but he didn’t think so since she wore minimal makeup.

  She did that thing with her bottom lip again. “You might want to wrap some gauze around it overnight.”

  “You some kind of burn expert?”

  Holding her hand up, she showed him a mean scar on her inner wrist. “I have a couple more. Which you won’t see.”

  That sent his mind scrambling to dark erotic places. “Arsonist?”

  Shelby grinned. “I make jewelry. Sometimes I use a torch.”

  Trent turned on the faucet and let the cold water ease the sting. “A torch, huh? What kind of jewelry?”

  “Do you still want the oven on?”

  He figured he’d stay away from the broiler and fry the steak. “Off, please,” he said, finally noticing the small bag in her hand. Last night she’d carried it out to the barn with her.

  Neither of them mentioned her crossing the tape to get to the oven. He had to admit, the whole dividing-the-house-in-half thing seemed silly now. Not that he’d give voice to the admission. If he pulled the tape up, he wondered if the issue could die a natural death?

  “Should I take the food out?” she asked.

  “Mind checking it first? I forget if I got that far.”

  She grabbed the dishtowel hanging from a cabinet door and used it as a potholder. “I think it’ll be fine left in the oven. You�
��ll be eating soon, right?”

  “About ten minutes. Will you be ready?”

  She closed the oven door and straightened. Then glanced at the large round wall clock, taking a long time to make up her mind. “Sure.”

  He turned off the water and she tossed him the dishtowel.

  “Ten minutes,” she confirmed and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  Pushing the screen open, she gave him a wry smile. She started to step outside when an eerie howl pierced the air.

  Shelby froze. “What was that?”

  “A coyote. Didn’t I warn you about them?” His thumb began to throb. Probably punishing him for teasing her. “They mostly stay in the foothills and on the ridges.”

  “Mostly?”

  More frantic howling and yapping exploded. The noise he’d long grown accustomed to and unconsciously dismissed had her taking a step back. She jerked her hands away and let the screen slam.

  “I know it sounds bad,” he said. “Some people think it’s a feeding frenzy. But it’s just the pack communicating with each other.”

  “Saying what? Dinner’s about to walk out the kitchen door?”

  Trent grinned. “They’re not even close by. Coyotes stay away from people. I promise, they’re more afraid of you than you are of them.”

  “I doubt that.” She moved forward a few inches. “Remember, a lot of people in town know I’m staying here. You don’t want to have to explain my sudden disappearance.”

  “Hell, that’s nothing. All I’d have to say is you tucked tail and ran back to the city. They’d get it.” He laughed at her eye-roll and reached for the heavy wood door to shut out the noise.

  “Wait.” She put a hand on his arm, then drew back. “I need to go to the barn.”

  He sighed. “No, you don’t.”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve had to go for five minutes.”

  “No, I meant...” He shook his head. They were close. Too close. Her scent did something unsettling to him. “No more boundaries. Use any room you want,” he said, reaching again for the door.