Wind River Wrangler (Wind River Valley #1)(24)
Soon, they left the busy center of the Wind River Ranch behind and were on a wide, well-beaten trail leading toward a thick grove of pine trees that looked as if it stretched about half a mile in length and width out in the middle of flat, grassy floor. Everywhere she looked green pastures covered the land. It looked to her like combed strands of hair, only it was thick grass instead. Shiloh appreciated the grove as they drew near. The pine trees reminded her of pincushions, sticking up from the slight knoll where they grew. She couldn’t see the screeching blue jays hidden among the pines. There were two trails ahead. One led down toward the middle of the grove, the other went around to the end of it and disappeared.
“See that red-tailed hawk sailing above us?” Roan asked, pointing upward.
Looking up, glad she had sunglasses on, Shiloh saw a hawk flying about a thousand feet above them in lazy circles. “He has a red tail?”
“Yes. He and his mate live on the edge of the grove. When we ride around it, I’ll point it out. They have a big nest made of wooden sticks up in the tallest, oldest pine.”
“So beautiful,” Shiloh sighed, turning and giving him a wispy look. “The sky is so wide and large out here. It’s nothing like New York City.”
“You can’t see the sky for all the skyscrapers,” he snorted.
Laughing, she nodded. “I just love how big and bold this country is,” she said, and she turned in the saddle, looking around, appreciating the greenness of the pastures, the content animals eating and the powder-blue sky surrounding them from above.
Roan was beginning to see Shiloh honestly relax. Maybe for the first time in a long time. The sun glinted in her red hair, burgundy and gold threads among the strands. He found himself wanting to pull that thick, slightly curly hair out of the clip she wore to keep it gathered up. What would the strands feel like running through his exploring fingers? How would Shiloh respond as he kissed her lips? Her mouth was driving him to distraction. His erection stirred. Not now. Not in a saddle. He’d be in constant agony, firmly willing himself not to respond.
“This is . . .” she sighed, tipping her head toward him, meeting his dark eyes, “. . . wonderful, Roan. Thank you so much for putting up with me this morning. I’m sure you don’t want to be teaching a city slicker how to ride a horse.”
“Don’t worry about it, Shiloh.” Her name slid off his tongue like hot honey. He was in so much damned trouble. Roan could see the transfixed look in her green eyes; she was overwhelmed and mesmerized by all the ongoing beauty surrounding her. He understood Shiloh’s awe and appreciation. “There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t feel like you do. It’s beautiful country.”
You are beautiful. The words almost escaped his mouth. Fuming with himself, Roan wondered why in the hell he couldn’t remain immune to Shiloh. The way the breeze picked up strands at her temples, the glint of gold and red in them, emphasizing her large, intelligent eyes, all conspired to make him harder, not softer. Dammit.
“I just never realized how big the West was,” she admitted. “I feel like I’ve missed something really important.” She rested her hand holding the reins on the saddle horn, loving the soft sway of Charley. It was like getting rocked by her mother when she was a child; a wonderful, maternal, and nurturing feeling that always had made Shiloh feel not only loved, but safe.
“Do you think you’ll write about your experiences out here?”
She smiled a little. “I was thinking about it. I mean”—she gestured her hand toward the sky—“this place is so inspiring! It’s untamed, beautiful and wild nature. I just feel like I’m bubbling over inside with joy,” she said. “It does something good to me. . . .” and her voice trailed off. Shiloh held his interested gaze, felt that masculine heat surround her once more like invisible arms. It was palpable. Every time he studied her with that intensity of his, she felt . . . well . . . like his woman. Like he was claiming her. Branding her as his own, maybe?
Her flights of imagination were taking off and truly crazy. Shiloh tried to tell herself that because Roan was an operator in the military, that look he gave her was due to past training. Still, her breasts automatically tightened, her nipples hard and rubbing erotically against her cotton bra. The sensations were new. Exciting. Driving her to distraction. She didn’t see desire in Roan’s eyes. No, if anything, she felt like he was a scientist. She’d rather be his lover than looked upon as an interesting petri-dish experiment.
Chapter Six
Roan tried to remain immune to Shiloh as they rode around the far end of Pine Grove. About halfway around it, he pulled his horse to a halt. Raising his arm toward a huge pine tree, the top of it containing the red-tail nest, he pointed it out to her. She got busy and pulled out her cell phone and took photos of it. He felt himself go hungry as she became excited and awed as one of the hawks flew back to the nest. The hawk had a four-foot wingspan and when it came in for a landing, Roan had to admit, it was impressive-looking.
There was a stand of cottonwood trees a little farther around the edge of the grove, a small stream nearby. He decided to pull up there, get her off the horse, and give her legs a stretch. Roan dismounted and walked over to Charley’s head, his hand on the reins.
“Go ahead and dismount,” he told Shiloh. He watched as she gripped the horn with her left hand, placing the reins on the horse’s neck, and swung her leg across Charley’s rump.