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

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  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.

  * * *

  TRENT 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.”

  “Maybe I should just call the moving company now.”

  “Excellent idea.”

  “Dream on.” She tore off a paper towel and wiped a spill on the counter. “Trash? Under the sink, right?” She opened the lower cabinet and frowned. “You have a leak.”

  “Gee, what was your first clue?” Maybe he should kiss her again. Just to shut her up. “I know there’s a problem. Why do you think I put a bowl under there?”

  “This might sound silly, but you could...oh, I don’t know—” she moved a shoulder, tilted her head to the side “—maybe fix it instead?”

  Trent ground his molars together. “It’s gonna take some time. I’m not a plumber.”

  She dropped to a crouch and moved the wastebasket to the side. “It looks fairly straightforward. Shouldn’t take much.”

  “Be my guest.”

  After poking around she asked, “You have a wrench?” When he didn’t respond, she looked up. “Just bring me your toolbox.”

  He was more than happy to call her bluff. By the time he returned with three different size wrenches—with the toolbox sitting outside the kitchen door just in case—he wasn’t surprised that she’d disappeared.

  The cabinet door had been left open, the wastebasket set aside. The half-filled bowl hadn’t been moved. He thought for a moment, trying to decide if he should go ahead and tackle the job since he had the tools out. If he screwed up, his neighbor four miles down would bail him out. For a kid, Jimmy was fairly handy with this sort of thing and he owed Trent big time for helping him move cattle. Actually, the guy wasn’t that young, maybe twenty-five, six years younger than Trent. But somehow Jimmy managed to make him feel old.

  “Oh, good.” Shelby walked in wearing a different T-shirt, with a faded green towel draped over her arm. Her bed-tousled hair was now pulled into a ponytail. He’d liked it better before.

  “I figured you’d skipped out,” he said.

  “I told you I’d fix it.”

  “Yep, you did. Here you
go.” He passed her the wrenches and couldn’t help noticing that the new shirt was tighter, stained and sported a few small holes.

  She laid the wrenches on the linoleum, then spread the towel next to it.

  “Would you like a pillow, too?”

  “Oh God.” She rolled her eyes as she lowered herself to the floor. “You’re going to be one of those guys, aren’t you?”

  “What?”

  “Get all macho and then pissy over a woman showing you up.”

  “Hell no. I want it fixed. And someone else doing the work is right up my alley.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Assuming that someone knows what they’re doing.”

  “Yeah?” She smiled. “Watch and learn...sweetheart.”

  The worn T-shirt was a size too small for her. And distracting as hell. But he wasn’t comfortable leaving yet.

  Something unpleasant had just occurred to him. Three months ago he’d installed the garbage disposal himself after watching a DIY video online. So far so good, but knowing she’d be tinkering under there was making him nervous.

  “Tell you what, Shelby, I’ll take care of the leak this afternoon.” He watched her lie back, then do a little shimmy as she tried to get in a suitable position. “Before dinner.”

  “That’s okay. I’m here.”

  He was probably worried for nothing. If it was going to come loose it would’ve done so already. His gaze lingered on her hips as he waited for the next little wiggle.

  “I thought you had chores to do,” she muttered, her voice muffled from partway inside the cabinet.

  “Right after I finish my coffee.” Where was his mug, anyway? He turned and saw it on the counter near the stove. After replacing the cold brew he resumed his post.

  “Wow, this pipe is old.” With her arms stretched back, the shirt’s worn fabric cupped her breasts. “And stubborn.”

  He refrained from commenting, too busy watching her and thinking things he shouldn’t be thinking.

  A thud cut him off. Metal clanged against metal.

  “Shelby?” He dropped to his haunches, sloshing coffee everywhere, including her jeans.

  “What?”

  “You okay?”

  “Fine. I told you, it’s this old pipe...” She muttered a curse. “Why are you still here?”

  This was his house and he’d leave when he was darned good and ready. She shifted, giving him a glimpse of smooth toned belly just below her navel. His splashed coffee had gotten her T-shirt. A wet spot had spread across her hardened left nipple.

  Trent shot to his feet. “I’ll be outside. Watch out for the disposal. I put it in myself.”

  8

  BY MIDAFTERNOON SHELBY was disappointed that she hadn’t seen Trent. Having fixed the leak, she’d wanted to gloat. Nothing too obnoxious. Just a smug nod of her head would be fun. Or a perfectly intoned “well, yeah.” She’d even decided she might not be above a plain “duh.”

  Although, the reason he’d made himself scarce was most likely to avoid her. So, no, she’d keep her mouth shut. Her trip to town had confirmed her worst fear about the Eager Beaver. Her inheritance was worthless. Of all the stupid times to have acted impulsively. Returning to Denver wasn’t an option.

  Her gaze automatically went to her cell where it sat charging on the nightstand. She hadn’t checked it once this morning. She’d lost count of Donald’s texts and voice mails. It wasn’t as if she would never speak to him again. She just wasn’t ready yet. In truth, there was little left to say. But she’d return his calls at some point. If only to make certain he understood it was over between them.

  She sat on the edge of her bed and sighed at the grime she’d had little luck removing from under her fingernails. Between living out here and making her own jewelry, no more manicures for her. She wouldn’t miss them. Just like she hadn’t missed her luxurious studio at Williamson Jewelers.

  Oh, she’d gotten used to having her mini-fridge stocked with mineral water, diet sodas and fruit juices. Anything she or a client consumed was replaced overnight. It wasn’t something she’d miss, though, not like daily lunch delivery and having her dry cleaning picked up in the morning and hung behind her door that same afternoon, if she wanted. Mrs. Williamson had made it clear from the beginning that Shelby’s sole focus was to be on her exclusive designs and the super-rich customers who paid outrageous prices for them.

  One week Shelby had been a struggling college student about to graduate and hoping to get a job in marketing. The next thing she knew she’d been swept into the posh and glamorous world of Tad and Anastasia Williamson. They’d been nice, if a bit too reserved, though not in their effusive praise of her work. Their job offer had come with a salary so huge Shelby had been speechless. Something they’d mistaken for hesitancy and tacked on more money.

  Eight months later she’d met their son Donald, a prominent Denver attorney. She couldn’t say it was love at first sight, but with his good looks and smooth moves, her head had turned plenty. At heart, Donald wasn’t a bad person. It simply had never occurred to him that the world truly did not revolve around the Williamsons. His class-conscious mother was mostly at fault. But Donald was a bright guy. It was past time he figured it out.

  For Shelby the dream had begun five years ago. But she had never belonged in that world. Turned out her large salary hadn’t gone far at all. With the Williamsons, it was all about image, and that had cost Shelby plenty, both emotionally and financially. She really should’ve woken up long before last week.

  She stared at the box containing her supplies. Tempted as she was to unpack them, the timing was wrong. She needed a large, well-lit, ventilated space to work. Trent would have heart failure if she took over the living room. She doubted fixing the sink had earned her that much grace.

  Since she’d finished some light housekeeping, she changed from her old work T-shirt to a more flattering turquoise cotton knit. Next she planned on making dinner, glad she wasn’t a messy cook. She hoped that was still true. It had been a while...

  She went to the fridge and took out the hamburger she’d bought in town yesterday. Trent’s meager assortment of spices and herbs was pitiful but she’d make do. She found a mixing bowl and baking pan, and everything else she needed to put together a decent meatloaf.

  If Trent had plans for dinner, that was okay. But he’d shared his steak with her so she figured it was her turn. The view of the Rockies from the kitchen window was really amazing.

  The late afternoon sun had sunk behind the peaks, leaving behind clouds that looked like wisps of pink cotton candy. She thought about running to get her phone so she could take a picture but got distracted.

  Shelby wasn’t sure how she’d missed him at first. Trent was in the corral working with a reddish-brown horse, his focus completely centered on the beautiful animal. Anyone half blind could see that Trent was in his element. For him, the rest of the world seemed to have disappeared. Spellbound, she could barely drag her gaze away. But if she worked quickly...

  While waiting for the oven to preheat, she peeled and cut up potatoes, then put them in a pot to boil. Once the meatloaf was in the oven, she calculated how much time she had before she needed to turn the stove off, then walked outside. If she was intruding, she’d know right away. One good thing about Trent, she thought wryly, he didn’t hold back.

  She’d been leaning against the corral for almost five minutes before he even noticed her. His fleeting frown told her nothing. He tugged down the brim of his hat and led the horse toward her. Her racing heart made sense when she flashed back to the excitement of her first pony ride. A time when things had still been okay between her parents. She must’ve been about nine.

  “Am I interrupting?” she asked, her gaze glued to the muscled horse. “If so I’ll leave.”

  “For good?”

  Okay, she’d la
id the welcome mat out for that. “What’s his name?”

  “Solomon.” Trent stroked the horse’s neck. “This is Shelby,” he told the animal. “How do you greet a lady?”

  Solomon went down on his front legs and bowed.

  Surprised and delighted, Shelby giggled like a silly schoolgirl. “What kind is he?”

  Trent’s smile vanished in a second. “A quarter horse,” he said, clearly insulted.

  “Ah, right. You mentioned that before. Sorry.”

  “Damn straight. Everybody knows the American quarter horse is the best all-purpose breed in the world,” he said with a brief self-mocking smile. “They’re used for rodeos, barrel-racing, steer roping, pleasure rides, ranch work. As for racing? They can turn more quickly and accelerate faster than any other horse.” He gave Solomon a fond smile. “You’ve won a couple races yourself, haven’t you, buddy?”

  The horse moved his head in a vague nod.

  Shelby let out a short laugh. “He’s amazing. May I pet him?”

  “Sure.” Trent brought the horse closer.

  “He’s smaller than I expected.”

  “Don’t let that fool you. Quarter horses generally are more compact. But they’re powerful sprinters, agile and well-balanced. That’s partly what makes them so versatile.”

  “You’re so handsome.” With a tentative hand, she stroked the side of Solomon’s neck just as she’d seen Trent do.

  “No need to be afraid. He likes you. See how his ears are pricked forward. If he didn’t like you touching him you’d know it.”

  “Kind of like his owner.” She realized that hadn’t come out right when Trent raised a brow at her. “No, not— I meant the part about him not holding back.”

  With a little smile betraying his amusement, he lifted his hat and resettled it on his head. “You take care of that leak?”

  “All done.”

  His expression said it all. He hadn’t expected that outcome.

  Shelby grinned. “Don’t look so surprised. I’m very resourceful.”

  “I don’t doubt it. But I figured you would’ve come out gloating.”