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Come On Over

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Год написания книги
2019
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Man, she had a lot of stuff. This was her third trip into the house. Each time she’d been loaded down with bags, pillows and whatnot. Hadn’t she said her belongings were gonna be delivered next week? How much crap did she have? He shouldn’t be surprised. Not after being married for three years.

She picked up the box, struggling to get a hold on it. She wasn’t all that short, maybe five-six, but her arms couldn’t make it all the way around. Stopping midway from her car to the walk, she set the box down. Or more like dropped it.

Mutt whimpered and ran back to the door, tail high and swishing back and forth.

“All right.” Trent grabbed his hat off the peg behind the door and pointed at the dog. “You owe me.”

By the time he made it to the porch, she was dragging the box up the front walk. She must’ve heard the screen’s squeaky hinges because she looked up. “I assume I have a grace period to cross your side of the house until I finish unloading?”

Without a word he walked over, hefted the box and carried it to the porch, then left it there while he grabbed the suitcase. The suckers weighed a friggin’ ton. Obviously she wasn’t kidding about moving in.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” she said, a bit snippy when he crowded her off the stone walkway.

“You’re welcome.” He dropped the suitcase next to the box. “Anything else?”

“I’ll get it.” She started to turn and paused. “And thank you.”

Trent watched her open the back door and lean across the seat. Gave him a real nice view of her butt. Naturally Violet was watching them from her porch. He wondered why she hadn’t invited Shelby to stay with her. Just to fill her ears with a bunch of crap about him. Maybe create her own little reality show right here at the Eager Beaver.

He returned his attention to Shelby. Yep, a damn nice butt. Now if she knew how to cook, he might consider putting up with her for a week or so. Looked as though she planned to put down roots for longer than that. Damned if she didn’t haul out another box the size of Wyoming. As with the other one, she could barely get her arms around the thing.

Sighing, Trent left the porch, taking the steps two at a time. “I’ve got it,” he said.

The way she was bent over he could see right down her blouse. He forced himself to look away but not before he glimpsed the swell of her breasts plumping over a plain white bra. He didn’t know why but he expected something snazzier. Red or black, maybe some lace. Though he was more interested in her...

“Did you hear me?” She straightened with a hand on her hip.

“Huh?” He met her accusing eyes. “Yeah, I heard you,” he said and hoisted the heavy box.

“I said, I can manage.”

“I’m not trying to be nice. You throw your back out and God knows when I’ll ever get rid of you.”

“Charming to a fault.”

Sunlight shined directly on her face, and he was relieved there was no visible mark from his hand. She caught him staring and turned away to get another smaller bag from the backseat. The fact that striking her had been an accident wasn’t making it any easier to ignore. She didn’t seem to want to be fussed over. Earlier, though, in his old bedroom, when she’d touched her jaw, he had a feeling she might’ve been playing him. Didn’t matter. Guilt nudged him either way.

Instead of leaving the box with the others, he set it just inside. He wasn’t about to make the mistake of propping the door open and letting more flies in. By the time he moved everything off the porch, Shelby had joined him, carrying an overnight bag and a sack of groceries.

Puzzled, Trent grabbed the suitcase and smaller box, then led the way down the hall. This woman wasn’t easy to peg. How she dressed, taking a chance on a place sight-unseen, out in the boonies no less. While she’d brought her own pillow, it seemed she’d been willing to sleep on the floor until her bed was delivered. Maybe she’d robbed a bank and was on the run.

He passed the room he actually was using for storage, and stopped at the one that had been his as a teenager. Holes from his old rodeo posters were still visible on the beige walls. The carpet didn’t look too bad, though he imagined the dark color had a lot to do with that.

The wood blinds were slanted up to keep out the morning sun.

He’d completely forgotten about the pop-up trundle underneath the bare mattress, which fortunately, looked brand-new. If he remembered correctly the bed had occupied the second guest room back in Texas.

“If you don’t like sleeping on a twin I can set up the trundle and push them together,” he said.

“A twin is fine.”

It took him a few seconds to remember he wasn’t supposed to be making this easy on her. He set the suitcase near the closet and the box beside it. The contents clanged. Pots maybe? His gaze slid back to her sack of groceries.

“Is that it?”

Shelby frowned, puckering her lips in a way that made him forget what they were talking about. She turned to peek into the small closet and his eyes drew to her nice round backside.

He’d never understood why a woman would spend so much for designer jeans. He did now. Shelby turned to face him. Her eyebrows rose expectantly.

“Violet tell you this place is cursed?”

Shelby laughed. “No, she didn’t.”

“I’m not saying I believe it, but lots of folks do.”

“Ah. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I don’t have to scare you off,” he said, irritated by the amusement in her voice. “We both know you don’t have a claim.”

“If I thought that I would’ve left by now.” She paused. “If you’re so sure of yourself, why haven’t you kicked me out?”

“Despite your low opinion of me, my mama raised me to be a gentleman.” He couldn’t say why her faint smile riled him. “If you’ve got any questions, I’ll be outside.”

“Aren’t you worried I’ll rob you blind?”

“Sorry, sweetheart—” Trent snorted a laugh “—someone else beat you to it.”

4 (#ulink_ca40a45c-7a63-5243-a9c9-a67102a832b8)

THIRTY MINUTES LATER Shelby had hung some clothes and sorted her toiletries. The bathroom was small, typical of older homes, and sharing it with a virtual stranger wouldn’t be easy. But it was better than having to trudge out to use the one in the barn. She really hoped he’d been teasing about that.

So she divided her makeup and personal hygiene stuff into two groups of must-have and optional, then packed them in smaller bags to take to the bathroom—wherever that turned out to be—with her as needed.

Fortunately she’d remembered to pack a couple of towels and her pillow but she’d forgotten about sheets. What was left of her jewelry-making supplies, though, those she’d kept close. It would’ve been so much easier to let the movers bring the boxes along with her furniture since it was doubtful she’d be setting up shop soon. She was low on just about everything she needed to make the silver and brass pieces that would bring in some good money. And she knew for sure she had to replace the old soldering iron. But after that awful scene with Donald, she’d been too hurt and angry to think straight.

She sighed, not eager to ask Trent for sheets. Maybe she could lay a towel on the mattress and bring in the emergency blanket she kept in her trunk just in case she was ever stranded in foul weather. Along with it she kept a first-aid kit, a flashlight, batteries, bottles of water and power bars. Someone who was that careful should never have ended up in this mess. She wasn’t normally impulsive; she was cautious, prepared for anything.

Except, of course, a broken engagement.

And a run-down ranch.

And no job.

Hopefully she wasn’t starting a new trend, she thought, glancing around the small room. What the hell...there was a roof, walls; it was dusty but clean, and she hadn’t had to pull out her credit card, so the situation wasn’t completely awful.

Thinking back on the wedding gown she’d found just last week, she sighed. It had been love at first sight, and not because Mrs. Williamson would’ve disapproved of the retro style. Regardless of her ex-boss and erstwhile future mother-in-law’s insistence, Shelby had never done anything to deliberately spite the woman. Shelby really did like trendy shoes and modern art, and a few other things Mrs. Williamson found vulgar. They simply had different tastes.

And Donald, well, he...
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