Come On Over (15 page)

Cursing himself for not having the condom closer, he got up to grab the packet. He forced himself to unwrap it carefully while he watched Shelby. The way she was arching and moaning only made him more impatient. But she was watching him, too, and she dragged herself back toward the pillows, getting ready for him.

Trent propped himself on one arm and caressed her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed and with a single thrust, he entered her, fast and deep. He caught her gasp in his mouth and kissed her as thoroughly as possible, considering he was about to explode. Lifting his head, he looked into her dazed eyes.

He pulled out, shifted, hoping to make every move count, give her as much pleasure as possible. Bringing her leg up higher around his waist he sunk into her. By her moan he knew he'd found the perfect angle. Keeping control of himself was the problem.

Arching up to reach him, she raked her fingernails down his chest. The way she'd moved drove him deeper, making her moan louder. He stilled, cupped her breast, then leaned down to kiss her parted lips. On his way back up he stopped briefly to suck her nipple.

Then he tried out their new position with another hard thrust.

Her shoulders came up off the mattress again. She murmured something he didn't catch, then shifted her hips to the right and nearly set him off.

He slowly withdrew, smiling at her cute pout.

“Don't you dare,” she panted, clutching at his arms, trying to pull him back to her. “Trent, please.”

For a long time they stared into each other's eyes, and then he entered her again and started moving. Slowly at first, before thrusting harder, deeper until she writhed and whimpered, and then bucked up against him as she came. He bent to kiss her and she squeezed him so hard it triggered his own explosive release.

15

T
HE
WEATHER
WAS
PERFECT
the first day of the fair. With the cooler temperatures, it finally was beginning to feel like fall, Shelby's favorite season. Good for long sleeves, but no jacket needed during the day. The gorgeous blue sky stretched all the way to the distant Rockies where most of the clouds hovered. She was lucky her booth faced that direction.

A line of cars turning off the highway caught her attention and she checked her watch. The fair officially opened in fifteen minutes. Trent had set up the tables and secured the awning for shade while she'd unpacked her jewelry and laid everything out, so she'd been ready for an hour. She appreciated his help, but it had given her extra time to fret.

Sighing, she glanced at the earrings and necklaces she'd placed on the center table. At first she'd worried about her meager inventory. The booth on her left overflowed with homemade baked goods and to her right a friendly older woman was selling beautiful porcelain dolls. Considering Gladys had made each intricate doll herself, she offered quite a variety.

But then it occurred to Shelby that having less jewelry on display meant she wouldn't be so mortified when she didn't sell squat. People might think she'd sold out quickly. The rationale had cheered her some. Though she was still tense. And Trent telling her all morning not to be nervous didn't make her any less so.

Wondering what was keeping him, she poked her head out. She spotted him in front of the cotton-candy wagon, holding the drinks he'd gone to get them and talking to a young couple. She swore the man knew everyone.

She got a whiff of popcorn and pressed a hand to her roiling tummy. Other food smells were beginning to permeate the air. Great. She tried to distract herself by scanning the kiddie rides being tested just past the row of food vendors. Not a good idea. She was terrible at fairs and festivals, wanting every fried and sugar-coated treat in sight. And she usually gave in.

“Sorry I took so long. I kept running into—” Trent lowered the cup he'd been about to pass her. “You don't look so hot.”

“Just nerves.” She waved dismissively and peered at the cup. “What did you get?”

“Hot chocolate.”

“Ah.” No, she'd have to wait on that. Her stomach would rebel for sure.

He set the two cups aside. “Shelby.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and gave her a warm smile. “It's going to be fine.”

“I know.” She shrugged. “I'm being ridiculous.”

“I didn't say that.” He ran his hands down her arms and pulled her close. Obviously he didn't have a problem with people seeing them together like this.

She didn't, either, but she still glanced around.

“Even giving myself a ten-percent margin for bias, your jewelry is terrific. I don't understand where this insecurity is coming from.”

Her eyes burned a little at his praise. She wanted to stay right where she was, her face half buried in his chest until they could leave. “I wish I'd had the time and supplies to make better stuff. Some of this goes back to my college days. I only brought them because I was desperate.” She drew back. “Sadie was so nice to rent me a booth. I couldn't sit here with nothing. But honestly, I really should've thrown some of this junk out or donated it by now.”

Frowning, he took a long considering look at her, and then at the displays. “You're not seeing clearly. I don't see any junk here.” He sounded a bit put-off. Probably sick of her self-pity, and she didn't blame him.

Clearing her throat, she straightened, smiled. “You're right. I told you I was being ridiculous.”

He obviously wasn't buying her born-again act. A scowl darkened his face. “I'd sure like five minutes alone with the person who did a number on you.”

“What? No. I'm a very good designer. I know that. For God's sake, I've designed rings and necklaces for celebrities from all over the country. It's just—” She sighed. “I haven't done this sort of work in a while.”

Still troubled, he opened his mouth to say something but someone called out to him.

“Trent Kimball. I thought that was you. It's been a long while.” The stout graying woman displaying lovely handmade quilts down the way from them strolled over. “How are your folks doing?”

“Fine,” he said. “Just fine. And yourself, Mrs. Stanley?”

“Can't complain. Retirement has its ups and downs.”

“I imagine so.” To Shelby he said, “Mrs. Stanley was my sixth-grade teacher.” He made a quick introduction, and Shelby managed to get out a hello before a throng of people coming toward them sent Mrs. Stanley scurrying back to her booth.

The crowd swelled and thinned for the next three hours. Trent stayed with her a good deal of the time, when he wasn't being pulled away to the cavernous warehouse-looking building where horses and other livestock were being judged for one thing or another.

A cute girl in her early teens challenged him to enter the pie-eating contest. He'd only laughed. When her pushing went from cute to bothersome he'd told her, in no uncertain terms, it wasn't going to happen. Shelby would never tell Trent, but she understood why the girl had been so insistent. Or that half the women at the fair had given him a twice-over. And the other half needed glasses.

Shelby heard there would be a junior rodeo later in the evening. At the same time tomorrow was the much-anticipated demolition derby with a five-thousand-dollar prize going to the person who took first place. The event was sold out, Gladys had told her, so the crowd would be bigger tomorrow evening. Apparently Gladys's sales were in line with Shelby's, as in pathetic.

The good news was, her stomach had settled down. In the bad news column—out of boredom, she'd eaten a hot dog, half an order of disgusting nachos, a frozen lemonade and three chocolate-chip cookies from the booth on the other side of her. Now she was contemplating a funnel cake. If all that food made her sick, at least she'd have an excuse to go home.

“Here you are. How are you doing?”

Shelby turned, pleased to see it was Sadie. “Okay. Did you just get here?”

“Nah, a couple hours ago.” She inclined her head toward the building. “Putting out fires. You'd think some of those cocky hotheads were putting their private parts on display instead of their livestock.”

Shelby laughed. “Men.”

“Amen, sister.” Sadie reached for a pair of earrings and held them up. Dangling from a brass crescent moon, three strings of glass beads caught the late sun. “This is pretty.”

Biting her lip, Shelby said nothing. The three times she'd seen the woman, Sadie hadn't worn jewelry. She was just being nice. It made Shelby feel worse.

“Oh, look at these.” She held up another similar pair, only with a brass sun, and the longer beads a mix of purple and gold. “I'll take them both,” she said and pulled out money from the neckline of her yellow knit top.

“You don't have pierced ears,” Shelby said.

Sadie snorted. “They aren't for me. I don't wear jewelry. My daughter and granddaughter will love 'em in their Christmas stockings. Purple and gold are Julie's school colors. How much do I owe you?”

Shelby forced a smile. “The price should be on the back of the card.”

Sadie turned it over and frowned.

“Too much?” Shelby searched her pockets for the pen. “I can reduce it.”

“Had to cost you more than this for the material.” Sadie passed the earrings to her. “Better check the others. Make sure you didn't make a mistake with them, too.”

Shelby stared at the price. “I guess I wasn't thinking,” she murmured. “Please. Pay me what's marked. That's fair.” She quickly wrapped the earrings in white tissue paper. “I'll check the other prices.”

“Be sure that you do,” Sadie said, with a glance toward the parking area. “These first few hours are always slow. People are knocking off work about now and trust me, pretty soon they'll be here in droves.” Sadie accepted the wrapped earrings and passed over the money. “It's the correct amount. No change. See you later, hon.”

Shelby fisted the bills, knowing full well that Sadie had paid her too much. But calling her on it would likely create a scene. Last thing Shelby wanted. The sun was sinking, leaving her to decide on a new spot for her folding chair.

She thought about Sadie's advice on the pricing, and admitted she was probably right. Shelby was out of touch with the real world. People who had money rarely cared about what baubles cost, especially if they were meant to impress.

First she found her pen, then quickly scanned the stickers and tried to make reasonable price adjustments. Something made her look up. Trent was headed toward the booth, tall, posture straight and looking ridiculously hot in dark jeans, a tan Western-cut shirt and brown Stetson.

Of course someone stopped him to talk, but in less than a minute he was walking right to her, a smile on his handsome face. Just watching him made her skin tingle.

“Better be careful, young lady,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, moving in so close he forced her to tilt her head back to look at him. “Eyeing a man like that could give him the wrong idea.”

“Or the right one.”

Grinning, he pushed back the rim of his hat and briefly kissed her. “How've you been doing?” Without waiting for an answer, he swooped in for another brush across her lips.

Sighing, she drew back, her gaze fastened to his. “People are probably watching.”

“Let 'em.”

She ducked back, placing a refraining hand on his chest. “I should tell you...I signed you up for the chili cook-off.”

His confused frown quickly turned into a smile. “Very funny. I seem to remember you cleaning your plate.”

“I'm not complaining. But you're a much better kisser than a cook.”

“There you go.” Their lips barely touched.

“Trent Kimball, quit bothering that poor woman and let her sell her wares.”

Evidently he recognized the voice. “Rachel McAllister,” he said, before turning to the woman with gorgeous auburn hair. “Still causing trouble.”

“It's not McAllister anymore, smart-ass.” She was about Shelby's age, close to the same height. Her laughing eyes and friendly smile made Shelby like her instantly.

“That's right. I heard you roped some poor bastard into marrying you.”

“Poor bastard,” Rachel repeated in a deadpan voice. “Matt's the luckiest guy in the world.” She jerked a thumb at the building. “Go ask him.”

The blonde woman accompanying her smiled, but kept sifting through the necklaces.

“He must be helping out with the junior rodeo tonight,” Trent said, then as an aside to Shelby, “I don't know if you follow rodeo. Matt Gunderson is a champion bull rider.” He introduced her to Rachel.

Then Rachel introduced the blonde woman as Jamie. She was married to Cole, Rachel's older brother. Trent seemed to know the whole family. They mentioned the Sundance, which sounded familiar, and then Shelby remembered it was the dude ranch Abe at the variety store had mentioned. Had it really been two weeks already? Wow.

“I would've invited you to the wedding, but I didn't hear you were back until a week later.” Rachel was saying when Shelby rejoined the conversation. “Why didn't you tell anybody?”

“I got here in March, just in time for that last snow. The Eager Beaver needed a lot of work before I could settle in. I barely had time to breathe.”

“You should've called,” Rachel said. “You know my brothers. They would've been right there to give you a hand.”

Shelby felt her chest knotting. She didn't know how much longer she could last keeping Violet's claim from Trent. Aware of Rachel's gaze on her, Shelby wasn't sure if she'd turned as green as she suddenly felt or if it was just curiosity on Rachel's part.

“These are really nice,” Jamie said, holding up a necklace. “Did you make these, Shelby?”

She nodded, glad for the diversion. “That's an older piece. I didn't know about the fair in time or I would've had a better selection.”

“Are you kidding? These are great.” Jamie set the necklace aside and picked up another one.

Rachel's attention turned to the jewelry. “Turquoise.” She reached around Jamie for the silver heart-shaped earrings with the turquoise center. “I went to school in Dallas. I love all the turquoise and silver they have in Texas. Wow, these are heavy but really terrific.”

Jamie glanced over at them, looking seriously interested.

“Sorry,” Rachel told her. “I'm buying them.” She scanned the other two tables and picked up another turquoise-and-silver combination.

“Okay, now you're just being a pig,” Jamie said, and Rachel laughed. Though Jamie seemed a bit annoyed.

While they continued looking, Shelby slanted a glance at Trent. He stood back, arms crossed, a satisfied smile on his face. Catching her gaze, he winked. If he'd orchestrated this whole thing she was going to kill him.

The two women attracted more shoppers. Within minutes all three tables were crowded with lookers, most of them sifting through the jewelry and asking questions about the different material and stones Shelby used. Whether they bought anything or not, the women all had very nice things to say about Shelby's work.

She kept casting glances at Trent. Most of the time he was engaged in conversation, sometimes with a guy he'd gone to school with or a friend of his parents. Even an old girlfriend of his had stopped to chat. She had a baby on her hip, and two more little ones trailing after her.

The whole time they spoke Trent kept unconsciously loosening his collar, looking more and more like a man relieved he'd dodged a bullet. When the woman finally moved on, he stared after her with an expression of mild shock.

“Do you want kids?” Shelby asked before she'd considered how the question would sound.