Come On Over (18 page)

“Put that away, Donald,” she said. “Please.”

He sighed. “If we can't work it out, then okay. But we have to at least try,” he said, gripping the velvet box in his hand. “I meant it. I do love you. I never stopped loving you.”

It was her turn to stand. Aside from giving him a pop in the nose for showing up here without an invitation, she didn't want to hurt him. He'd grown up in a world of wealth and privilege and she was sure he had no idea why she would choose anything else. “You said you understood why I left.”

He nodded, moving closer, but stopping before she had to rethink popping him. “I didn't understand how important your hobby was to you, all right? We can work around that. I swear. Besides,” he said, lowering his voice as he touched her arm, “You shouldn't have to live in this godforsaken place.”

Hobby?
He so didn't get it. He didn't get her. And he never would. Despite everything, it made her a little sad. Still, it was tempting to tell him to just go back home and lose her number and address. But she really couldn't. After signing over a quitclaim deed to Trent, it was possible that she wouldn't have a place to live, or a job. Trent was still recovering from his divorce. They hadn't even known each other for a whole month. And one county fair did not a successful business make.

Her and Donald? That was over. But if she had to work for his parents for a while, it wouldn't kill her.

Then again it might.

“Tell you what,” she said, taking Donald's hand. “I'll think about it, okay?”

He looked slightly appeased. “I knew you'd be reasonable about this.”

She didn't bother pointing out that she was only agreeing to think about it. “I won't take too long to make up my mind.”

His sigh this time was one of relief. She felt somewhat guilty for giving him false hope because she honestly couldn't see them fixing anything. But he'd caught her off guard and that wasn't fair, either.

* * *

T
RENT
WANTED
TO
kick himself across three states. He'd known eavesdropping was a bad idea when he'd walked over to the side window. Though technically the window was on his list of chores. It needed new grout, which meant he could hear pretty much everything from the living room.

He couldn't see them, of course, which was the only part that worked in his favor. Because if he'd seen them kiss or do anything, he surely would've lost it.

As he crossed to the stable to disappear for a while, he cursed himself for being every kind of fool. He passed the stable and kept walking.

She was going to think about it. About going back to that rich bastard and his rich bastard family. Why wouldn't she? She'd have it made. And she wouldn't have to live in this “godforsaken place.”

He kicked a bush and it didn't do him a damn bit of good, so he picked up the nearest rock he could find and threw it with all his might. He should go back to the stable, saddle up Solomon and ride until the sun went down. He wasn't about to go back to the house.

She was going to think about it.

How could she? When they made each other laugh, and she was proud of him and he was proud of her. She'd already made friends here, and her business was off to a flying start, so what had he done wrong?

Goddammit, how could she think about going back to Denver when he was gonna give her the ranch?

When he'd already fallen in love?

18

T
RENT
HAD
CAUGHT
a glimpse of Violet's rusted-out pickup turning off the driveway and felt equal parts relief and irritation. She was trying to sneak back and park on the other side of her double-wide before anyone saw her. The hell with that.

He headed toward her parking spot at a fast clip, slowed so she wouldn't see him between the barn and her trailer. Then as soon as it was safe, jogged the rest of the way. That's when he saw the rearview mirror was gone, and there was another dent in the front bumper. Fender benders twice in two months. She was damn lucky nothing worse had happened.

She'd barely shut off the engine when he opened her driver door.

“Where the hell have you been for two days? Dammit, you can't just take off like that, Violet.”

She glared at him. “I can, and I did.”

He scowled right back. “I swear to God I'm gonna make you carry a cell phone from now on.”

“That'll be the damn day.” With a snort, she stuck her pipe in her mouth. Normally he would've backed up. She wouldn't hesitate to blow smoke in his face if it served her purpose. “Move.”

He made his disgust known with a grunt and stepped back. She wasn't as spry as she had been just a few months ago. It was hard watching her climb down so slowly. He had to convince her to quit driving. It wasn't safe.

“You have bags you want me to carry inside?”

“I carry my own things. You know that.” She shouldered past him.

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath. “I have to worry about you. Worry about Shelby. My life has gone straight down the tubes.”

Violet stopped, her face creased in a frown. “What about Shelby? Why are you fretting about her?”

He glanced at the house. She'd been working last he knew. Except it was becoming more and more obvious he didn't know jack shit. Ever since Donald had gone, the two of them had hardly spoken. She'd grabbed food and drink when she needed it, then gone right back to working. “Can we go inside?”

“Come on.” She had a Food Mart bag in one hand, a legal-size envelope in the other and a worried look on her face.

He followed her up the steps to her porch, wondering if the deed to the Eager Beaver was in the envelope. Tomorrow was supposed to be the day of reckoning, which was something he needed to discuss with her.

Reaching around her frail body, he opened the door. She didn't object. Something else worrisome. He followed her inside, his gaze catching on the small wood-burning stove. “I left a stack of firewood for you in the back,” he said absently.

Watching him closely, Violet set down the bag and envelope. “Well, go ahead and talk, seems you've got something you wanna get off your chest.”

“I do. First, you're gonna be mad, but so be it. You can't drive anymore, Violet. You just can't. You can barely see over the wheel. And your eyes aren't so good. You've been lucky so far, and haven't hurt yourself or someone else, but luck can't hold out forever. Besides, even as ornery as you are, I don't think you want to worry me like you did these past two days.”

With a leathery hand she gestured for him to sit. “Next.”

Shocked, Trent stared at her a moment then took a seat.

“It's Shelby.” Sighing, he rubbed his closed eyes. “I want her to have the Eager Beaver. I'll sign whatever it is I need to sign.”

“Why would you do a damn fool thing like that?” she muttered. “And you think
I'm
senile.”

He opened his eyes just as she lost a smile. “I never said you were senile.” He groaned when she walked away. “We're not done. Where are you going?”

“To get you a beer, you damn cry baby.”

“Okay.” He slumped back. “Good. Thanks.”

She brought two bottles out of the refrigerator and let him twist the caps off. They took swigs at the same time.

“Explain to me why you want to sign the ranch over,” Violet said, settling into her plaid recliner.

“Shelby needs a place to call her own. A place that won't cost her an arm and a leg while she gets her business off the ground. She needs to feel independent. You of all people should understand.” He looked at the big envelope she'd brought in. “I assume that's the deed. Just, she can't know I signed the ranch over to her. That's important.”

Violet's narrowed eyes bore into him. She gulped some beer without taking her gaze off his face. “Ever consider that what she needs is you?”

“Come on, Violet, don't start meddling in that area. You know I'm recently divorced. And Shelby was engaged until a few weeks ago. She needs space, and time to think. We can't just— Look, I'm trying to do the right thing here.”

“So?”

“So it's complicated. We don't even know each other all that well.”

She snorted. “You know her well enough to hand over the Eager Beaver.”

Trent clamped his mouth shut. Hard to argue that point. After another pull of beer, he said, “If I don't, I'm afraid she'll go back to Denver. To her old job. Maybe even marry her ex-fiancé.” There. He'd voiced his biggest fear. The thought alone was killing him.

Violet frowned. “What would you do if she doesn't want you to stick around?”

His gut clenched at the possibility. “I don't know yet. But I have more options than she does.”

“Good God in heaven. You've always been my favorite, Trent. Don't be a dummy.” Violet shook her head. “Fretting over my poor eyesight, when you can't see what's plain as day.”

“Dammit, Violet—”

“Go on. Get. I missed my nap.” She pushed to her feet.

“You know what, why don't you just give me the paperwork, and I'll go down to the county office and make things official.”

Violet smirked. “You got any idea how old that piece of paper is? It ain't in just your name.” She sighed with disgust. “If you want the girl to have it, I'll take care of it.” Her face softened. “But I'm telling you, it's not the Eager Beaver that'll keep her here.”

Trent felt as if his feet were planted in cement. A few days ago, he might've believed that Shelby felt strongly enough about him to stay. But now, after he'd overheard her talk with her ex? Hell, she'd slept in her own room last night. If that wasn't a sign, he didn't know what was.

* * *

“F
EEL
LIKE
GOING
out for dinner?”

Shelby looked up at Trent standing in the doorway. He must have just finished working outside and washed his face because his damp hair was slicked back. Smiling, she set aside her glue gun. “What brought this on?”

“What? I can't ask my favorite girl out on a date?”

She raised her brows. “Your favorite
girl
.”

“I knew you'd like that.”

She doubted she'd be able to eat. Her stomach was acting up, and she'd pricked her fingers a million times on stupid silver wire. She'd slept terribly, wanting badly to crawl into bed with Trent. But by the time she'd finished working it had been almost 2:00 a.m. and she hadn't wanted to wake him.

It wasn't enough that she was panicked about getting out her orders. Tomorrow was the
day
. And Violet had been AWOL. Shelby couldn't rest until she'd told the woman she wanted Trent to have the Eager Beaver.

“You're thinking about going back to Denver, aren't you?”

“What?”

“It's okay.” Trent shrugged, as if he was commenting on the weather. “I mean, I'd understand. Not that you'd need my permission.”

“You're right about that.” It was about the only thing he was clued in to from where she sat.

“What I'm trying to say, and doing a very bad job of it, is that I wouldn't try and stop you.”

Speechless, hurt to the bone, she could only stare at him. She'd been praying for a sign he wanted her to stay. She'd really thought...

Oh, God.

“Donald seems like an okay guy.” He glanced at the mess she'd made of the room. “You wouldn't be working so hard for peanuts.”

Money didn't mean anything to her. He knew that. “So, tonight is supposed to be a goodbye dinner?”

“No, Shelby.” The mask of indifference slipped. He finally looked like himself again. For a few seconds, anyway. “No. You've been edgy all day. I figured— I thought maybe you were dreading having to tell— I don't know.” He scrubbed at his face. “Guess I'm still tired.”

She had been edgy, cursing under her breath every time she'd nicked herself or dropped the tweezers. So, okay, she could cut him some slack. Still, tired or not, she hated that he could look so okay with her leaving.

“How about sandwiches?” she said, and tried to smile. “I don't really want to go anywhere until Violet comes home. Aren't you worried? Does she do this often?”

“She's home,” he said, his expression a mixture of caution and concern. “We already had a talk.”

Her heart pounded so hard she jumped to her feet hoping to slow it down. “A talk?”

“Yeah.” He eyed her warily. “About not taking off like that.”

“I should go check on her.” She tried to skirt him, but he caught her arm.

“She's fine, Shelby. I told her she shouldn't drive anymore so she's not in the best of moods.”

“Oh, so now you know what's best for everybody, is that it?”

“Whoa.” Frowning, he let go her arm. “You don't agree that Violet shouldn't be behind the wheel?”

Shelby swallowed. “Of course I agree, but don't think you know what's best for me. Because I can assure you, you're clueless.” She tried to squeeze past him. “Absolutely clueless.” She'd tossed and turned last night, thinking about Donald and Denver, and what would happen once she relinquished her rights to the Eager Beaver. How foolish she'd been to spend so much of her salary on the right clothes, the right car, trying to belong in Donald's world. Now, her savings wouldn't take her far. It would be hard to turn down working for his family.

Just thinking that made her sick to her stomach. Dammit, no matter what happened she wouldn't return to Denver. She'd rather live in her car than settle for a man, or a job. In fact, she was done with settling for anything. She was better than that.

And if Trent didn't love her? She'd be fine. Okay, maybe not fine, but she'd survive. Right?

That last part made her a little shaky.

“Excuse me, please. I want to check on Violet.”

“She's taking a nap,” he said.

“How convenient.”

Trent looked confused at first, and then uneasy as he stepped aside. “If I swear to you Violet's fine, will you leave it alone?” he asked quietly as she passed him.

Shelby froze. He knew. Violet had already told him the ranch was hers, and the first thing he'd said to her was about how he wouldn't stop her from going back to Donald? How could it be that after everything they'd been through, Trent hadn't changed at all? He still wanted her to go back where she'd come from so he could have his precious ranch.

It hit her hard. So hard, she could barely breathe. Trent was supposed to tell her he didn't care about who owned what. That all he wanted was for the two of them to be together. Instead, he wanted to pack her off to Denver so he could have the Eager Beaver to himself.

She nearly choked on a sob and hurried on through the house. No. She wouldn't cry. Not again. Not in front of him, or because of him. Why had he been so great the night after the fair? How could he have looked at her as if he cared...as if he might even love her back. It made this so much harder.

For a split second she thought about changing her mind. But keeping the ranch would be spiteful and so not her. At heart Trent was a good man. One of the best she'd ever known. He only wanted to keep his home, continue with his new life. She understood that bone-deep need. God, how she understood. But dammit, she loved him. Which was turning out to be a huge mistake. One of many. But this one would be incredibly hard to get over.

She paused in the living room, looked toward the kitchen. Where was she going? She had no idea where she was headed. Oh, Violet.

Shelby stopped again in the kitchen. Filled a glass with water and downed half of it. When had her mouth gotten so dry? She drained the glass, set it in the sink. Pushed her hands through her hair as she composed herself on the way to the back door.

“Shelby, wait.” Trent was standing at the doorway to the living room. “Come on, honey, can't we talk?”

“Don't—” She whirled around with a finger in the air. How dare he? “Do not call me that. Not now. Not ever.”

His stricken expression faded, hardened. “Okay.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, his mouth a firm thin line. “Got it.”

This was the image of him she needed to keep in her head. And not cry, she told herself again. Crying would be bad. She still had to see Violet. Pack.

Oh, God.

She pulled open the screen door and almost trampled the poor woman.

Violet jerked back. “Where's the damn fire?”

Shelby glanced over her shoulder. Trent was still there. “Can we go to your trailer and talk?” she whispered.

“Nope.” Violet pushed past her. She walked straight to the kitchen table and laid down an envelope. “We're talking right here. All of us.”

Trent eyed her, his expression a warning. “You aren't going to do anything foolish now, are you, Violet?”

“Nah, I'll leave that to you. Being so good at it like you are.”

He slowly walked to the table, looking pale under the kitchen light. “Violet, I'm begging you.”

He looked scared, desperate and angry all at the same time. Shelby had never seen this expression on him before. Her stomach clenched painfully.

“Actually, Violet, I really need a minute alone with you,” Shelby said in her most persuasive voice.