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

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Oh, I thought about it. I even practiced what I was going to say while I did some tidying up.”

  His gaze narrowed. “You cleaned, too?”

  She stopped petting Solomon and held up both hands. “I didn’t touch any of your personal stuff.”

  “I wasn’t worried about that. Can you cook?”

  “Depends. What’s it worth to you?”

  “Are you serious? I’m already giving you bathroom and kitchen privileges.”

  “Well, aren’t you just a knight in shining armor?”

  Solomon snorted.

  “Yes, I know, handsome. But we’ll just ignore him,” Shelby said, and went back to stroking his neck.

  This time Trent snorted. “You’ll never turn him against me.”

  He sounded so serious she had to laugh. “It just so happens I made dinner.” The reminder had her checking her watch.

  “Real food? Not chef’s salad or quiche or anything like that.”

  “Oh, no.” Shelby tried her best to look disappointed. “You don’t like quiche?”

  He cleared his throat. “It’s okay.”

  “Good.” She gave him a bright smile. “Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes. See you later, handsome.” She gave the horse an extra pat, then hurried toward the house before she burst out laughing.

  * * *

  “DO I HAVE time for a shower?” Trent entered by the back door twenty-five minutes later. “Or is that gonna ruin the quiche?”

  By the time Shelby looked up from the salad she was tossing, he was sniffing the air, his brows drawn together in a suspicious frown. “No, go ahead,” she told him.

  “What’s that smell?”

  “Meatloaf.”

  He hung his hat on a wall peg, a faint smile curving his mouth as he walked out of the kitchen.

  Shelby grinned, too, but didn’t let him see. Figuring she had a spare ten minutes she decided to make gravy for the mashed potatoes. It had been her favorite comfort food as a kid, and even in college, mostly because it was a cheap dish. But it’d been years since she’d indulged. Thanksgiving dinner with the Williamsons was always a gourmet affair—no mashed potatoes and gravy.

  Deciding to go all out, fat and calories be damned, she pulled out butter along with the other necessary ingredients.

  She repeated the earlier ritual of searching cabinets and drawers, this time for a whisk and the right size pot. Before she actually started on the gravy, her cell buzzed.

  Dread slithered down her spine. Her good mood fizzled. It was probably Donald again. She owed him another conversation, she knew that. Something made her grab the phone instead of letting it go to voice mail. She frowned at the caller ID. Wasn’t it kind of late in Germany?

  “Hi, Mom, is everything okay?”

  “You tell me.”

  Shelby briefly closed her eyes and rubbed her temple. Wait for it. Any second now...

  On cue, her mother let out a long-suffering sigh. “What on earth is wrong with you, Shelby Ann?”

  She knew, Shelby thought, but how? Her mother had never called her at work, only on her cell. And very seldom. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m terrific. Never felt better.”

  “Not according to Donald.”

  She pulled a chair away from the table and sat down. “Donald?” she murmured, the smell of meatloaf making her stomach turn. “You called him?”

  “No, of course not. How would I know his number? Donald called me.”

  That made even less sense. They hadn’t met yet. “What did he want?” she asked calmly.

  “How could you be so stupid?”

  Shelby flinched, though it wasn’t the first time she’d been called that by her mom. It shouldn’t still hurt. “Do you even want to know why I broke the engagement?”

  “Do you honestly think you can do better?” Gloria’s voice had risen. “He’s an attorney. He’s rich. His family is rich. He’ll inherit everything one day. Don’t you understand how lucky you were to find a man like him? A man who wants to marry you and not just keep you on the side?”

  “Oh, Mom, please.” Shelby let out a sigh that sounded depressingly like her mother’s.

  “Lord knows I tried my best with you, Shelby. I did. With no help from your worthless father, I might add. But you—”

  “Mom, stop. Just stop.”

  Silence lasted only seconds. “Where are you?”

  “Montana.” The word slipped out before Shelby had a chance to think. No one needed to know where she was.

  “Montana? Why? What could you possibly expect to—” Gloria paused, then huffed out a breath. “It doesn’t matter. Donald hasn’t given up on you. It’s not too late. He wants you back.”

  “Tough.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I am not going back to Denver or Donald or my job. There will be no wedding. I don’t know how to say it any simpler.” Knots of tension cramped her shoulders. A small insistent headache had begun to throb near her temple. “And you need to stay out of it. Are we clear?”

  “What happened, baby?” Now came the cloyingly sweet conciliatory tone her mom had decided made her sound maternal. “Did he have a small fling? Men stray from time to time. It’s a fact of life. Certainly not a reason to cancel the wedding.”

  “I have to go. We’ll talk again soon.”

  “But, honey—”

  “Goodbye, Mom.”

  For the first time in her life, Shelby hung up on her mother.

  She dropped the phone on the table, then dropped her chin to her chest, waiting for guilt to set in. She felt pretty good, actually. Her shoulders and head not so much. Her eyes were moist but no tears had fallen. That was progress.

  God, she was almost twenty-eight. A grown woman who’d supported herself since she was eighteen. How could she still let Gloria get to her? Shelby had already predicted her mom’s reaction. Nothing new there. She hadn’t even met Donald yet she was rallying to his side.

  Okay, that part was hard to take.

  Shelby breathed in deeply, trying to dislodge the lump blocking her air passage.

  Well, so much for dinner. Everything but the gravy was made. At least Trent could eat. Her stomach couldn’t take any food. Still, she would never recommend the Gloria diet.

  She pushed to her feet, anxious for the safety of her room. The meal was warm enough. If not, Trent was a big boy. He could figure it out.

  The gravy ingredients were scattered on the counter. The thought of putting everything away made her want to weep. But she couldn’t just leave it. Exhausted suddenly, she took a step and, from the corner of her eye, caught a glimpse of Trent.

  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.

  * * *

  TRENT 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

  “GET 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. “W
hat? 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.”

  * * *

  TWO 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.