course she’d call her father, too, but he had his hands full with his teenage stepchildren. He’d barely blink at the news. Just give her a verbal pat on the head and promise she’d find the right one soon. Which was completely fine with her. Shelby preferred his laidback approach to life. With her mom there was always so much drama.
She picked up her bag of groceries and wondered how serious Trent was over the whole dividing the house thing. Maybe he just needed to cool off. In the meantime, she could keep her perishables in the foam cooler she’d bought along the way. She went outside to fetch it from her car and saw Trent fiddling with something on the tractor. His T-shirt, damp with sweat, strained against his muscular frame. When he leaned across the engine, the worn denim of his jeans hugged his butt. Without his hat, his dark wavy hair gleamed in the late afternoon sun.
A tingle of awareness did something funny to her stomach. It wasn’t difficult to ignore the unwanted reaction. Sure he was attractive, but annoying. And hadn’t she just gotten rid of a pompous, annoying man?
Thinking of Donald again made her ache. Though not nearly enough considering they’d been dating for three whole years and engaged for ten months of that. This wasn’t the first time she’d worried about not being more upset. Was it shock? When it wore off was she in for a heart-crushing plunge? After all, the wedding was planned for spring. They’d already decided on everything. She should feel devastated, not relieved. Or concerned over her faulty judgment in accepting his proposal.
Mutt spotted her first. He lifted his head from his shady nook in the grass, then came running toward her, tail wagging. Violet was nowhere in sight.
Trent’s gaze followed the dog. His mood didn’t seem to have improved. Whether because of the tractor or his comment about someone else robbing him blind, she didn’t know. She figured he’d been referring to his wife, or ex-wife.
“Am I allowed to use the fridge?” she asked, shading her eyes to look at him. “I forgot.”
“That’s why I used tape. The stove, fridge and sink are all on my side.” He eyed her sneakers, then her messy ponytail before turning back to the engine.
“Basically that means I have no access to water in the house.”
“That would be correct.”
God, she hoped he wasn’t serious about the ridiculous setup. But then, what did she expect? She was a stranger, an intruder invading his space without warning... She bit her lip. See? Her judgment was completely messed up.
If it weren’t for Violet living right on the property, Shelby would never have made the impulsive decision to stay. By the same token, it was Violet who had given her hope that Shelby’s grandfather’s bequest was valid. And if she ever needed a time for that to be true, it was now. She’d never felt so lost, not when her parents had divorced or when she’d changed high schools in the middle of junior year and immediately become the girl with the ugly glasses.
“Wait,” he said, when she turned back toward the house. “I’m pissed off at this engine. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”
“I don’t blame you for being upset.” She wasn’t fibbing, though she’d also decided that being nice to him could benefit her restricted living conditions. “I appear out of the blue, disrupt your life. If the situation were reversed I’d be upset.”
“Yeah, well...” He rubbed a hand down his face and rolled his neck, grimacing with the effort. “I’ve been doing some thinking. Obviously you didn’t show up here on a whim. You believe you have a stake in the place, and from what Violet said, you just might,” he said, squinting at her. Then yanked up the hem of his shirt and blotted the sweat from his eyes.
She stared at his bare belly, tanned and ridged with muscle. How did a cowboy get a six-pack like that?
“Don’t get too excited.”
With a soft gasp, she snapped her gaze up to his face. He hadn’t caught her gawking. He was still wiping his face.
“Our great-grandpas might’ve been partners at some point, but it seems the Kimballs ended up sticking around and making something of the place.”
Could’ve fooled her. The barn, even the sheds looked horribly run-down. With the exception of the large, freshly painted structure closest to the corral. “Is that the stable?”
“Yep.”
“Do you have horses?”
“Why? You want those, too?”
Shelby bristled. Here she’d thought they were moving toward détente. Still, no point in antagonizing him. She forced a smile. “Just making conversation.”
“I have two quarter horses. One is a racehorse. That’s what I do—I train them.”
“Oh.” Now it made sense that the stable was in such great condition. Beside it was parked a very nice horse trailer that probably cost a chunk. “So you’re not really a rancher or farmer.”
“Nope.”
“I thought I saw some chickens.”
He studied her a moment. “I have a milk cow, too. But the horses are my main focus.”
“May I see them?”
“I’m sure you will,” he said, resigned. “Just not right now.”
“Okay.” She looked up at the sky, then toward the Rockies. “It’s pretty around here.” She smiled, and ignored the suspicion in his narrowed eyes. “Peaceful,” she added, wondering if now was the time to ask again about using the fridge.
She had a better idea. “Well, sorry I bothered you. I came out to get something from my car.” She popped open the trunk and lifted the cooler, then balanced it against her hip while she closed the trunk.
She slowly carried it down the walkway to the front door, fairly sure he was watching her. Halfway there he said, “Wait.”
Bingo.
Him offering the fridge instead of her asking again would be better in the long run. Let him lord his generosity over her, she didn’t care. She got her cocky grin in check before turning to him.
“While you’re out here, I might as well show you to your bathroom,” he said, nodding toward the barn, a little smile betraying his amusement.
She could only stare at him.
What a prick.
* * *
WHILE HE WAS still working outside, Shelby hurriedly took a shower. In the house. Afterward, she pulled on a pair of old khaki shorts and a comfy T-shirt, then wiped down everything, until the place was exactly as she’d found it, which was clean. Like the kitchen. It seemed he only had a thing against sweeping.
She hung her damp towel over the rod in her closet and considered her next move. The refrigerator was old and didn’t have an icemaker. Something she’d discovered when she’d tried to swipe some fresh ice for the cooler. She hadn’t dared touch the two trays. The jerk probably knew exactly how many cubes were in there. She supposed she could bargain
