couldn’t tell if he meant to carry out his edict, threat, whatever it was. But the so-called bathroom was horrible. The toilet was semi-enclosed by two walls and stacked hay bales. And the shower was a joke. Anyone walking ten feet into the barn had a clear view of it. No way could he think she’d use the stupid thing. Probably wanted to see how long it would take before she begged.
He’d really had her going with all that talk about how it was possible she had a claim. Which made him showing her the outdoor pit of a bathroom seem cruel. It certainly set her on edge.
Once she’d calmed down and realized that was likely his game plan, she decided on her strategy. It wouldn’t be light for much longer, but he was still cussing at the tractor when she walked to her car.
Mutt trotted over to her and Trent looked up. She opened her trunk, then glanced around, scoping out the floodlight under the eave of the barn, the pair on either side of the stable door.
“The bulb’s burned out,” Trent said, gesturing to the barn. “I’ll get around to changing it sooner or later.”
“No problem.” She pulled the flashlight from her emergency kit, as well as extra batteries. Well, it was more of a spotlight, which was perfect, though she doubted she’d need it for long.
“I have a twelve-foot ladder if you want to change the bulb,” he said and swung up into the tractor seat.
“Maybe I will.” She smiled, closed the trunk. “But not today.”
His eyes narrowed at her, but his curiosity was forgotten the second the engine started. “Yes!” He sunk back in his seat and stared up at the sky. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
Shelby smiled. She couldn’t have cared less about his tractor victory except that his improved mood might extend to her.
“Have you been working on it long?”
“A couple days.” He gunned the engine, then turned to her. His gaze lingered on her bare legs, then swept to her T-shirt. The instant he met her eyes, the flicker of interest died, and his expression changed. “How about that, sweetheart? You might’ve brought me some luck.”
The phony endearment grated on her ears. Letting it go was the smart thing to do. She suspected he’d meant to irritate her. Maybe not. Some guys were still Neanderthals. But for some reason she doubted Trent was one of them.
You can catch more flies with honey, she reminded herself. She forced a smile that she suspected came out all wrong. “Since it appears we’ll be roommates for a while, I think we should be completely honest with each other.”
“Come again?”
“Honest about—”
He angled toward her and ran a hand through his dark hair. “No, the first part.”
Instead of fixating on the bunching bicep straining his sleeve she rolled her eyes. “Housemates, if you want to be technical, but not the point. You should know that I don’t appreciate being called sweetheart.”
His mouth curved in a lazy arrogant smile. “Good to know,” he said and jumped down. “Now, you mind moving out of my way so I can finish up...sweetheart.”
Shelby pressed her lips together. Why hadn’t she seen that coming? No sense trying to reason with a mule. She told herself she’d be the bigger person and not respond in kind.
He motioned to her car. “Park closer to the stable.” He picked up a toolbox and looked at her again. “By the way, we aren’t roommates or housemates, whatever. Out of the goodness of my heart, you’re my guest.”
“You deprive all your guests of bathroom and kitchen privileges?”
“Only the unwanted ones,” he said over his shoulder, already returning his attention to the tractor. “Which reminds me, later we’ll go over your chores. Hope you’re an early riser. Lots of work to be done on a ranch.”
His back to her, she gave him a one-finger salute. And hoped Violet hadn’t seen it from a window.
As Shelby rounded the front of her car, she noticed that he’d fixed the corral railings. Holding in a grin, she paused at the driver’s door. “They’re crooked.”
“What?” He turned and frowned at her, before following her gaze.
“The rails.” She tilted her head to the side. “They’re slanting to the left.”
“Like hell.” He glanced back at her, then grudgingly mirrored her head angle to study his handiwork.
“I guess it doesn’t matter.” Afraid she couldn’t keep a straight face, she opened the door. Yes, she was messing with him. The bastard deserved it.
“Which one?”
“Both,” she said and slid into the leather bucket seat, grinning behind the tinted windows.
* * *
TRENT SMELLED THE beans and cornbread the second he entered the house. And something else that made his stomach growl. Ham, maybe? He didn’t have any in the fridge or freezer. Shelby had to have brought it with her, or maybe the suddenly helpful Violet had made another delivery while he was watering the horses.
Earlier he’d made a tactical error. The microwave sat on a cart on Shelby’s side of the kitchen. Had he thought quickly, he would’ve rolled it over to his side before he’d duct-taped the place. He used the microwave more than he did the stove or oven.
He ducked his head into the kitchen. Shelby wasn’t there and no food had been left out. He checked the fridge and found only the beans and cornbread, so he took out leftover roasted chicken legs to go with it. Not that he had any idea how to heat up everything without the microwave.
He’d washed up some in the barn but he still needed a shower. The bathroom door was open, and the one to Shelby’s room closed. Much as it irritated him, he returned to the kitchen and heaped a portion of the food onto a pie tin and stuck it in the oven at a low heat. He briefly considered cheating. All he had to do was keep the microwave from dinging, but if she caught him that would screw up everything.
They would have to renegotiate and he had no intention of making this easy on her. Not only was she trying to take his home away from him—the only home he had left—she was also killing him parading around in those shorts. She had great legs, and he figured she knew it. He’d finally managed to curb errant thoughts of sex during the day, and given himself free reign during showers and bedtime. In a matter of minutes she’d screwed that up for him.
Thinking about the expression on her face when she saw the barn bathroom made him feel better. Wouldn’t have surprised him if she’d gotten in her car and left then and there. Damn, he wished she would have. It wasn’t in his nature to be ugly like that, Violet notwithstanding.
But Shelby had recovered quickly. And he expected that she’d already snuck in a bathroom visit or two while he was outside. That didn’t bother him. She’d be forced to go to the barn sooner or later, and just one time would do it. If the sorry condition of the toilet didn’t, the feral cat that lived part-time in the barn would probably scare some sense into her. The woman didn’t belong here. And Trent was just helping her see that.
The
