Come On Over

“With a whole town willing to vouch for you? I don’t think so.” She smiled. “Shall I poke around on my own, or do you want to show me the rest of the house?”

He folded his muscular arms across his chest. “Look me in the eye and tell me you honestly don’t believe this dispute is going to turn out in my favor.”

She blinked, once, then met his steady gaze. A jitter in her tummy prevented her from speaking right away. This last week had taught her several important lessons. Not the least of which was to stop being a pushover, stop compromising her individuality in order to be liked and to belong.

Shelby understood his anger. It appeared his ancestors had stayed, hers had not. Trent was right. When the dust settled, it was very likely she’d have no claim at all. But in the meantime, in case there was the slimmest possibility she was entitled to even a fraction of the place, she’d stay right here. Where she had the best chance of proving she could stand on her own two feet. Enjoy the creative freedom to design jewelry she loved without having her work belittled.

“We have no way of knowing what happened to Harold and Edgar’s partnership, or how it affected the ownership of the Eager Beaver,” she said calmly, very aware that she’d skirted the question.

Unless she was mistaken, Trent was seriously considering calling her on it. He studied her for a long excruciating moment, then brushed past her without a word.

She followed him out of the kitchen and to the hall. She took a quick peek down both sides. Only one bathroom. That sucked.

“This is my bedroom,” he said, motioning to his left, his lips a thin straight line. “The one at the other end is yours.”

The door was open. No furniture in her line of sight. Just ugly brown carpet. “Okay. What about—”

“We’ll split the house in half. You stay on your side and I stay on mine. As soon as I get my hands on the deed, you’re outta here. Agreed?”

“Well, no...” She poked her head into the no-frills bathroom. There was a shower-tub combo, a toilet, sink, no counter space to speak of, blue wallpaper from the eighties. But everything looked clean. “How are we supposed to divide the bathroom?”

“We’re not. It’s on my side. Feel free to use the john in the barn.”

She turned back to him. “You’re not serious.”

“If the toilet gives you any trouble, shake the handle a few times. The shower is mostly used to get off the grime before coming in the house, so it’s not enclosed. But don’t worry. No one’s gonna look.”

Shelby stared into his smug face, while holding on to her temper by a thread. So this was how he wanted to play it. Clearly he’d forgotten a not so small detail. “All right, so I guess the kitchen is mine.”

“Part of it.”

“No, it’s definitely on my side—”

He shouldered past her as if she were speaking to the wall.

“Where are you going?”

“Stay right there,” he said as he put one booted foot in front of the other and paced off the room.

Diagonally.

“No,” she said. “Stop. That’s not how dividing works.”

“You’ll have the same square footage as me.”

She tried to picture the kitchen. Exasperated, she couldn’t remember it clearly, but she was pretty sure the sink, stove and fridge were not in her corner. Assuming she’d put up with this nonsense.

Yeah, when pigs fly.

“You’re being a child,” she told him.

He ignored her, disappeared into the kitchen, then reappeared holding up a roll of blue duct tape. “Just so you’re clear on your areas.”

“You’re insane,” she said, and caught a glimmer of a smile as he ran a long strip of tape across the hardwood floor. Of course that’s what he wanted her to think so she’d get in her car and drive as far away as possible. “I’m surprised the tape can stick to all that dust.”

He paused and gave the floor a thoughtful inspection. “To show you what a good guy I am, I’ll loan you a broom so you can sweep your side.” He frowned. “I almost forgot,” he said and walked past her, back into the hall.

She found him standing just inside the door to her assigned room. Staring at a very nice unmade sleigh-style daybed that had been pushed against the beige wall. Blinds covered the lone window. “So, was this your storage room or your office?” she asked sweetly.

Trent’s mouth curved in a slight smile. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll get that out of your way.”

The daybed? The mattress looked brand-new. And comfortable. She cursed her big mouth. “It’s fine where it is. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

“No trouble.”

Shelby watched him approach the bed. The brown carpet was looking less and less appealing. “Um, Trent...”

He cocked a brow.

Okay, humbling herself wouldn’t kill her, but sleeping on the stained carpet might. “I would appreciate you leaving the bed.” She cleared her throat. “Please.”

Even as he made a show of mulling it over, humor glinted in his eyes. “You seem like a modern, independent woman. Just so you won’t feel beholden, I’ll rent it to you.”

She sighed. “How much?”

“Hmm...let’s see.” Rubbing his jaw, he studied the bed. “Fifty bucks a night sound about right?”

“Fifty?” She paused to dial down her growing temper. Two could play this game. “Sounds high to me,” she said, gingerly probing the spot where he’d clipped her. It didn’t hurt in the least, but he didn’t know that. “I guess I don’t have much choice, though. I’m afraid the floor may be too hard.”

Trent studied her, his expression that of a man who knew he’d been bested. “It’s yours. On the house,” he said walking past her. “Find your own sheets.”

“Thank you,” she called after him, and grinned when he cursed under his breath.

* * *

“YOU LIKE HER, don’t you?” Trent shook his head at Mutt, who stood at the door whining to go after Shelby. “You’re a damn traitor, that’s what you are. Next time you want a treat, you’d better hope she packed some for you. She certainly has enough luggage,” he muttered, watching her from the window as she pulled another suitcase out of her trunk, this one even bigger than the monstrosity she’d already carried to her room.

Mutt moved closer and barked at him.

“What? You just had your supper. And quit slobbering all over the linoleum. You want your new girlfriend to think you’re uncouth?”

Trent wiped down the stained porcelain for the third time before he realized what he was doing. Hell, he didn’t have to pretend to clean the kitchen sink just so he could keep an eye on her. Mutt didn’t know the difference.

Anyway, this was still his house. His window. His damn driveway. He could look at anything he damned well pleased. He tossed the sponge aside, dried his hands and pushed his fingers through his hair.

The dog panted loudly, his long pink tongue hanging out of his mouth as he stared up at Trent.

“Forget it, buddy. I’m not going to help her. Why should I? She’s lucky I don’t call the sheriff and have her locked up for trespassing.” In spite of himself, he looked outside again and watched her set a big cardboard box on the ground. “Hell, how deep is that trunk?”