“Maybe some people do, but that doesn’t mean it’s what I was doing, or most other folks, either. You’re an ass, Trent. By your reasoning, the only reason someone is nice is because they have ulterior motives.”
She raked him with a scornful expression, spun and marched away. Trent closed his eyes, trying not to think of how amazing she’d looked as she’d lectured him.
He couldn’t make up his mind about Emily. Was she trying to work the situation for what she could get? Or was she as naive as his mother had been, needing rescue when the world had fallen apart around her? Maybe she was simply a flake who left havoc behind wherever she went.
* * *
EMILY STOMPED DOWNTOWN, not wanting to go into the house and risk the crew seeing her anger. Trent’s words made her feel soiled, even though she wasn’t guilty of what he’d accused. What was wrong with him? Every time she’d asked for something differing from the contract, she’d told him to give her an estimate. Never once had she implied she wanted something free or for a reduced cost.
What sort of person was so suspicious of everybody? She might feel sorry for him if he wasn’t so awful.
As Emily neared the Emporium, her steps faltered. She shouldn’t go in there, either. In fact, she didn’t want to see anyone she knew well until she’d had a chance to cool down.
Heading across the street, she went into the Schuyler clothing shop and asked to try on the dress displayed in the window.
As she tried on dress after dress, Emily fumed. There was something wrong with being nice? Trent did his best to create a good working environment, but she’d never accused him of manipulating his employees by treating them fairly. After all, that would be ridiculous.
Sighing, she finally made a selection and signed a credit card slip, walking out with a sundress that she probably wouldn’t have considered if she’d been entirely rational. She’d heard that you should never drive angry. Maybe you shouldn’t shop angry, either.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ON THE DAY of the big firehouse fund-raiser, Emily nervously checked herself out in the mirror. It was the blue sundress she’d bought the day that she and Trent had argued about the hallway chandelier. It showed her figure more than the tailored business suits she’d once worn, or the loose flowing blouses and skirts she’d favored since moving to Montana.
Despite having been angry when she’d bought the outfit, it didn’t look bad, and it wasn’t as if they had fashion police in Schuyler.
She hurried into the kitchen to collect the cookies she’d baked the night before...and gave a sigh of pleasure over the way the room had turned out. Except for the bedroom she was using, the past few weeks had seen a transformation of the ground floor; Wild Rose Cottage was going to be as beautiful as she’d dreamed it could be. Even the wood floor that had buckled looked nice. Right after they’d “discussed” it, Emily had done some research and then tried one of the methods suggested. It had taken a while, but the hard work was worth every minute...including the chagrin on Trent’s face when she’d unveiled her success.
Emily still didn’t know what to do about Trent. She wasn’t mad at him anymore—she wasn’t good at holding a grudge—but that didn’t mean she trusted him. Besides, he was just the construction foreman on her house, not someone whose accusations mattered.
But no longer being angry didn’t tell her what to think about the handgun Trent had removed from the upstairs wall.
She’d had long conversations with Stella Luna about it when no one else was around. As it turned out, horses were excellent company—they didn’t talk back and never offered annoying opinions.
It was her good fortune that the horse-loving McGregors were willing to board the mare, especially for the nominal fee she’d finally gotten them to accept. But the best part was seeing Stella Luna eating better and becoming less nervous. It was nice that Harold Burrow’s faith in her was justified, and having a distraction each evening had been a godsend.
Emily frowned as her thoughts inevitably circled back to Trent and the gun.
He couldn’t be a criminal. However grim and solitary, with edges galore, she was sure he was honest. It had even appeared as though he was wrapping the weapon to preserve fingerprints. Nevertheless, she’d endured more than her share of sleepless nights trying to sort it out.
Should she at least talk to him?
So far, she’d just...waited.
Trent certainly hadn’t said anything about the wall, and as far as he knew, she hadn’t gone upstairs to see it. But she was running out of time to make a decision since the crew was scheduled to start working on the second floor the next week.
Criminy. There was no point in fussing, and she didn’t want to miss a minute of the barbecue and auction.
Amazingly, the fund-raiser was taking place on a Friday afternoon and evening. The town actually declared its own holiday for the event and most of the businesses would be closed. Alaina had laughed, claiming it was because everyone needed the weekend to recuperate. Emily didn’t mind closing the Emporium or having work halt on Wild Rose Cottage for the day.
Of course, in her case the crew was planning to come in on Saturday because so much time had been lost due to the flu. She’d felt bad about it, but the guys had assured her no one was being required to work. Trent had an odd expression on his face when the men had talked about it, and she’d been frustrated. How could a guy leave so much distrust in his wake?
Shaking her head, she walked briskly toward the downtown park.
She’d gotten stacks of donations for the silent auction and was proud of the results. At the same time she was nervous, in case it didn’t turn out well. But it should be all right. Despite the short lead time, the committee had done a fair amount of advertising. The committee had even shifted some of the donated goods to the live auction, so more people could get in on the fun.
At the park, Emily left her cookies with the dessert coordinator and started exploring. Despite the carnival rides operating a hundred feet away, crowds were milling in and out of the large tent dedicated to the silent auction. She peeked inside. The bidding lists were already filling with names and there were friendly scuffles as people raced back and forth to outdo each other.
“Emily.” Janet Goodwell rushed over and gave her a hug. “This is great. I knew it would be a success, but I didn’t realize how many people would participate.”
“I’m glad it’s working out.”
Emily wandered over to where the barbecue was being held and presented her ticket. She sat down with Alaina, a daunting amount of food heaped on her plate.
“Wow,” she said, looking at the pile of sliced tri-tip. “I won’t be hungry for a week.”
Alaina nodded. “I always have to go on a diet after the barbecue—or at least I should go on a diet.”
The meat was savory, the potato salad had been made by the premiere potato-salad maker in town and there were baskets of French bread on every table. Emily was stuffed by the time she was finished.
“I’d better walk around awhile,” she said, pressing a hand to her tummy and hoping she didn’t look pregnant after eating so much. It would have been a neat trick since she hadn’t had sex in ages.
“I’d go with you, but I need to do some final checks for the live auction,” Alaina explained. “See you later.”
Emily wandered around. A band was playing in one area and there were activity booths for the kids along with the carnival rides. A happy-faced clown insisted she sit down while he painted a sunflower on her cheek.
She also saw Trent. He was carrying supplies, his muscles flexing as he delivered ice and other heavy goods to the kitchen area. Suddenly the day seemed a whole lot warmer.
“Afternoon,” he said as he passed near the booth where she was trying to knock metal bowling pins over for a prize. His gaze barely flicked over
her and she restrained a sigh. After all, despite everything, she was merely a client. And that was a good thing. Who wanted a man suspicious of everyone?
* * *
MIKE TRIED NOT to limp as he carried his plate from the serving area to the closest table—it was possible if he concentrated and ignored the pain. The doctors had said he would slowly improve and his knee was better; they just couldn’t give him back his career.
“Hi, Mike,” Candy McCoy said, sitting across the table. “I understand you’re one of our bachelors at the auction.”
“That’s right.” He decided not to mention that he’d rather slam his hand in a car door.
She smiled coyly. “I wasn’t going to bid on anyone, but now I’ve changed my mind.”
“That’s nice,” he returned, unsure of what else to say. How had he gotten so lame around women? He couldn’t even manufacture the right moment to ask Emily out a second time. “The firefighters will appreciate your support.”
“I won’t be doing it for them. I’ve been trying to get your attention again for years.”
“Don’t make me blush.”
She let out a high-pitched giggle and Mike worked to keep his face neutral.
Great. Candy McCoy. The town nympho. He’d made the mistake of spending a night with her years ago. He was fine with women being assertive, but Candy was just tacky.
Mike wanted to remind her that the auction was for dinner and nothing more, but a family was sitting next to them, so he kept his mouth shut.
One thing was for sure though, if Candy won the auction, he’d wring Alaina’s neck.
* * *
TRENT WAS ABOUT to leave the barbecue when he heard Emily’s voice over the loudspeaker calling everyone to attention.
He found himself heading toward the bandstand.
“Hi, everyone,” she said into the microphone. “The regular auctioneer had to go home. The flu strikes again. He wasn’t able to eat, so tell the guys at the barbecue pit to stick a plate in the fridge. By the way, that’s my way of saying that if you haven’t eaten yet, you’re missing out on a good thing.”
Trent moved closer. Emily stood smiling on the platform. Earlier he’d tried not to look too closely at her. Now he stared hungrily at her slender figure hugged by sky blue fabric. The sundress was a surprising switch from her usual clothes.
He sucked in a breath.
Emily had very nice curves, belying the sunflower painted on her left cheek that made her look like a kid. He didn’t know how she could be so cute and alluring at the same time.
Hell, he ought to leave before anyone guessed how aroused he was at the sight of her, but he couldn’t make his feet move.
“I’ve been drafted to fill in for Pete,” she announced. “As some of you already know, my name is Emily George and I’m pretty new in town. The only explanation for me agreeing to do this is temporary insanity, which confirms the suspicions you had when you saw my taste in real estate. Don’t think I didn’t hear the whispered suggestions of a straitjacket.”
A general chuckle rippled through the crowd. The house on Meadowlark Lane had long been a sore spot for the town. No one would have cared if he’d bulldozed it.
“Listen carefully, folks,” Emily continued. “Among the items up for your interest are bachelors, bachelorettes, a riding lawn mower and deep-dish apple pie. They’re all terrific, but not interchangeable, so think before you bid. And remember, this supports those dedicated folks at the Schuyler Fire Station. I hear that if they don’t finish earning enough for a new ladder truck, they’re threatening to do one of those stud calendars, and I don’t mean Appaloosa stallions.”
“Are you crazy?” a feminine voice sang out from the crowd. “If we bid too much, we’ll miss out on the calendar.”
“You’re right,” Emily agreed, “so put your wallets away. Oh, wait a minute.” She whipped out her cell phone and acted as if she was listening before sticking it back in her pocket. “Okay, folks,” she announced, “I’m from California and it seems I got studs and steers mixed up. If we don’t earn enough on the auction, it’s going to be photos of longhorn bulls...from Texas.”
A smile twitched on Trent’s lips as a mix of laughter and groans went through the crowd.
“We’re starting with some of the generous contributions from local businesses,” Emily told the crowd. “After that we’ll get to Schuyler’s traditional bachelor and bachelorette auction.”
Bidding was brisk, with items going for generous prices.
“Hey, Trent,” Alaina murmured, coming up beside him. “Isn’t Em doing a fantastic job?”
“Uh...yeah,” he said.
He was reluctantly impressed. Emily had thrown herself into the moment, gently hamming it up, but not getting too corny as she encouraged everyone to have fun.
“She also got the local merchants to donate all this stuff,” Alaina murmured.
“I know.”
Pique traveled through Trent. Emily hadn’t asked Big Sky Construction to donate anything. Not that he should be surprised, given how many times they’d argued. Still, she’d apparently contacted just about every other business in town. He’d finally given Alaina a gift certificate for a low-flow toilet, including installation.
Though Trent didn’t usually care for public events, it was entertaining to watch Emily, and when the certificates for the pie-a-month came up, he offered an opening bid of a hundred dollars.
“Anyone else? These pies are really delicious,” Emily urged.
“One fifty,” called Uncle Parker. The mayor raised him ten dollars.
“Two hundred,” Trent offered, only to be promptly outbid by someone he couldn’t see at the back of the crowd.
The closing bid was for two seventy-five.
“Congratulations,” Emily sang out to the lanky rancher.
Twenty minutes later a painting by a local artist was brought out on the platform. Emily started taking bids and showed no hint that she’d hoped to win it herself. The only reason Trent knew was because he’d overheard her talking to Alaina about it.
“Fourteen hundred,” he called, outbidding the last offer by three hundred dollars.
No one else raised him.
“Great taste, Trent,” Emily called out. “This is something you can hang on your wall with pride.”
Making his way to the cashier’s booth he paid for the painting. It was a beautiful piece depicting a vista of hills and prairie land near Schuyler. The artist was becoming well-known in Montana and Trent already had one of his paintings displayed at Big Sky Construction. It made sense to buy it as an investment...except he wasn’t sure that was his real reason, and he had to remember his determination not to do any rescuing.
Trent had planned to take the painting and leave, except it was too enjoyable listening as Emily charmed the crowd. She was breathtaking with her face lit up and he fought another surge of desire. He had never taken a client to bed and he couldn’t believe how close he’d come that night in the truck. Worse, she was the one who’d pulled back.
He didn’t think it was a lack of desire, yet she’d ended their brief, searing kiss with a kind, almost philosophical air. Beyond complimenting him on being a good kisser, she hadn’t shown any sign it was difficult to stop.
Trent had never imagined that women found him irresistible. A few had claimed he was good in bed, and he’d run across others who would have happily shared his financial success, but most women said he was too hard and insensitive. So he could be wrong about Emily’s response to him.
* * *
ALAINA TENSED AS number thirty-six on the auction list approached. Some members of the committee had wanted to assign Mike to the same number he’d had on his uniform when he still played baseball, and she’d quickly squashed the idea, arguing that it might remind him of the day hi
s career had ended.
Come to think of it, there was something to admire about Mike’s refusal to trade on his former fame. He didn’t spin endless tales about ball games or seek the adoring attention he’d once received from fans and sportscasters alike. But surely there was a balance between becoming sourpuss lone wolf and a glory hound.
“Here we’ve got Mike Carlisle, ladies,” Emily finally announced. “Mike is intelligent, teaches at the local high school and does a great job remodeling kitchens, but you don’t get him for that long. However, if you win this bid, the two of you will enjoy a nice dinner out together.”
Triumph surged through Alaina as the bidding began. Mike had acted as if no one would want him at any price, yet voice after voice pushed the number higher. At the same moment it was a bittersweet achievement—by getting him to volunteer for the auction, she’d set him up to go on a date with another woman...unless she bid on him herself, which he might not like.
The last straw came when Candy McCoy offered nine hundred dollars and it looked as if it might be the final bid.
Alaina straightened. She wasn’t taking that lying down. Candy was a bloodsucker; she’d tried to steal every boyfriend that Alaina or her sister had ever had, and would do her best to eat Mike alive.
“One thousand,” Alaina sang out. Candy gave her an ugly scowl and offered eleven hundred.
The bids went up by increments.
“Fifteen hundred,” Alaina called, topping Candy’s last bid.
Candy scowled harder, clenched and unclenched her fists a couple of times, then subsided.
“Fifteen hundred dollars,” Emily intoned, “going once, going twice, sold to the lady from Big Sky Construction.”
No other dinner date sold for half that much, and except for Mike, no real heat had gone into the competition.
When the auction concluded, everyone applauded Emily.
“See?” Alaina told her when they met up again. “I knew you’d be terrific.”
Emily grinned. “It was fun. Everyone was nice and they didn’t mind my screwy sense of humor.”
At Wild Rose Cottage Page 16