Come On Over. Debbi Rawlins

her head into the no-frills bathroom. There was a shower-tub combo, a toilet, sink, no counter space to speak of, blue wallpaper from the eighties. But everything looked clean. “How are we supposed to divide the bathroom?”

      “We’re not. It’s on my side. Feel free to use the john in the barn.”

      She turned back to him. “You’re not serious.”

      “If the toilet gives you any trouble, shake the handle a few times. The shower is mostly used to get off the grime before coming in the house, so it’s not enclosed. But don’t worry. No one’s gonna look.”

      Shelby stared into his smug face, while holding on to her temper by a thread. So this was how he wanted to play it. Clearly he’d forgotten a not so small detail. “All right, so I guess the kitchen is mine.”

      “Part of it.”

      “No, it’s definitely on my side—”

      He shouldered past her as if she were speaking to the wall.

      “Where are you going?”

      “Stay right there,” he said as he put one booted foot in front of the other and paced off the room.

      Diagonally.

      “No,” she said. “Stop. That’s not how dividing works.”

      “You’ll have the same square footage as me.”

      She tried to picture the kitchen. Exasperated, she couldn’t remember it clearly, but she was pretty sure the sink, stove and fridge were not in her corner. Assuming she’d put up with this nonsense.

      Yeah, when pigs fly.

      “You’re being a child,” she told him.

      He ignored her, disappeared into the kitchen, then reappeared holding up a roll of blue duct tape. “Just so you’re clear on your areas.”

      “You’re insane,” she said, and caught a glimmer of a smile as he ran a long strip of tape across the hardwood floor. Of course that’s what he wanted her to think so she’d get in her car and drive as far away as possible. “I’m surprised the tape can stick to all that dust.”

      He paused and gave the floor a thoughtful inspection. “To show you what a good guy I am, I’ll loan you a broom so you can sweep your side.” He frowned. “I almost forgot,” he said and walked past her, back into the hall.

      She found him standing just inside the door to her assigned room. Staring at a very nice unmade sleigh-style daybed that had been pushed against the beige wall. Blinds covered the lone window. “So, was this your storage room or your office?” she asked sweetly.

      Trent’s mouth curved in a slight smile. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll get that out of your way.”

      The daybed? The mattress looked brand-new. And comfortable. She cursed her big mouth. “It’s fine where it is. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

      “No trouble.”

      Shelby watched him approach the bed. The brown carpet was looking less and less appealing. “Um, Trent...”

      He cocked a brow.

      Okay, humbling herself wouldn’t kill her, but sleeping on the stained carpet might. “I would appreciate you leaving the bed.” She cleared her throat. “Please.”

      Even as he made a show of mulling it over, humor glinted in his eyes. “You seem like a modern, independent woman. Just so you won’t feel beholden, I’ll rent it to you.”

      She sighed. “How much?”

      “Hmm...let’s see.” Rubbing his jaw, he studied the bed. “Fifty bucks a night sound about right?”

      “Fifty?” She paused to dial down her growing temper. Two could play this game. “Sounds high to me,” she said, gingerly probing the spot where he’d clipped her. It didn’t hurt in the least, but he didn’t know that. “I guess I don’t have much choice, though. I’m afraid the floor may be too hard.”

      Trent studied her, his expression that of a man who knew he’d been bested. “It’s yours. On the house,” he said walking past her. “Find your own sheets.”

      “Thank you,” she called after him, and grinned when he cursed under his breath.

      * * *

      “YOU LIKE HER, don’t you?” Trent shook his head at Mutt, who stood at the door whining to go after Shelby. “You’re a damn traitor, that’s what you are. Next time you want a treat, you’d better hope she packed some for you. She certainly has enough luggage,” he muttered, watching her from the window as she pulled another suitcase out of her trunk, this one even bigger than the monstrosity she’d already carried to her room.

      Mutt moved closer and barked at him.

      “What? You just had your supper. And quit slobbering all over the linoleum. You want your new girlfriend to think you’re uncouth?”

      Trent wiped down the stained porcelain for the third time before he realized what he was doing. Hell, he didn’t have to pretend to clean the kitchen sink just so he could keep an eye on her. Mutt didn’t know the difference.

      Anyway, this was still his house. His window. His damn driveway. He could look at anything he damned well pleased. He tossed the sponge aside, dried his hands and pushed his fingers through his hair.

      The dog panted loudly, his long pink tongue hanging out of his mouth as he stared up at Trent.

      “Forget it, buddy. I’m not going to help her. Why should I? She’s lucky I don’t call the sheriff and have her locked up for trespassing.” In spite of himself, he looked outside again and watched her set a big cardboard box on the ground. “Hell, how deep is that trunk?”

      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.