Wind River Wrangler (Wind River Valley #1)(37)
“Don’t be hard on yourself, Shiloh. It wasn’t yours to see. When we’re in the middle of a firefight, you never have the overview.” Roan could see her mind working at the speed of light, saw sudden awareness dawn within her as she sponged in his observation. He saw anguish in her eyes, sadness, and finally a spark of awareness he read as hope.
Roan hoped that she could break this unconscious pattern of being afraid to get into a serious relationship with someone and riding it out to its natural conclusion. Not afraid to even take the first step to find out what it might be like. Shiloh wasn’t a risk taker because she felt if she fell in love, that love would be torn away from her, just as her mother’s husband was torn away from her. Even as an eight-year-old, she saw the heart-wrenching destruction of her mother’s soul over the loss of her loved one. Roan felt deeply for her, but there was little he could do to help her out of that deadly mind construct she’d erected when so young. To change that pattern, Shiloh would have to consciously face her fears and overcome it.
And then, he asked himself, why was he pursuing this at all with her? To what end? Yes, he wanted this woman in his bed. He wanted to be inside her. He wanted to hear her sweet cries of pleasure. He wanted to please her. Why? Damned if Roan knew. But there was something sweetly innocent about Shiloh that wasn’t a put-on; it was simply her. It was who she was. The idealist who wrote about love and romance. Her books always had happy endings that she probably had searched for, and had not found for herself. The books fulfilled a part of her life that had fallen through the cracks of hard knocks and traumatizing experiences at eight years old. But books were no substitute for the real thing. Roan even wondered if she was a virgin. How commitment-phobic was Shiloh? Did a kiss send her into panic? A man wanting her in bed? Or after being in bed, did the relationship get too close to her fear of loss, so she ran? Grimacing, Roan thought he shouldn’t use that word. Maybe she left the relationship out of fear. The distorted pattern ran her personal life.
Shiloh stood quietly, feeling such a deep, internal shift within herself, she couldn’t describe it. But she sure felt it. That shift was palpable, deep in her unconscious. It scared her. It liberated her. Shiloh felt . . . vulnerable. Really feeling ALL her emotions, not just some of them. It was as if she were falling, but it wasn’t frightening. It was just . . . well . . . different. And uncomfortable. But no panic, thank God. She hated when she panicked. It only happened when a man got too close to her heart.
Lifting her lashes, she held Roan’s steady gray gaze as he studied her from across the room. It was as if he realized that she’d shattered inwardly. As if . . . as if he could feel what she had just encountered. And that first rush of vulnerability sweeping through her right now, for whatever reason, was awakening her on levels she’d never before experienced. And Roan Taggart knew it.
Chapter Nine
Roan entered the employee house at nearly seven P.M. Tiredness moved through him, but it was taken away as he saw Shiloh in the kitchen, making them dinner. The house smelled good, like he was home, not just at an employee residence. Roan automatically inhaled the aromas as he shut the door and put his hat on a nearby peg.
“I’m late,” he apologized, fighting the desire to walk into the kitchen and talk with her. Since their intense discussion at his cabin a week ago, Roan had decided to back off from Shiloh. Given her past, pressuring her about moving forward in a relationship with him was put on hold. Shiloh was wearing her Levi’s and a red tank top that lovingly outlined her breasts, her red hair in a sloppy knot on top of her head. She was busy frying something in a large iron black skillet. When she turned, her smile made him go hot, made him ache so damn much for her. Hands off, he warned himself. If Shiloh wanted him, she had to come to him. Not the other way around.
“Good thing,” Shiloh teased, smiling as she placed the fried chicken into an awaiting bowl. “I got so immersed in the chapter I was writing, I lost track of time. I thought dinner was going to be late, but you’re right on time.” Shiloh felt her heart open to Roan. Since their talk, he’d been different. Maybe less available. She couldn’t pinpoint what had happened between them. He seemed to be respectful of her understanding of why she always ran from a relationship, never toward it. Grateful for Roan’s thoughtfulness, Shiloh still missed the warm intimacy they’d originally established when she first came to the ranch. “Why don’t you grab a quick shower? I still have to make us a salad.”
Nodding, Roan fought the need to walk up to her, touch her cheek, look deep into her green eyes. He now lived in a new hell of having Shiloh in the house, just a hall’s width between their bedroom doors. But he was old enough to know what not to do. Shiloh had to have time to digest their last, serious conversation. And already, he could see evidence of subtle changes in her behavior because of it. Nothing overt, nothing in-your-face. Just a sense that something deep within her had shifted. And, he hoped, for the better. Roan hoped it would lead to her allowing him into her life. “It won’t take long,” he promised, sauntering through the living room, heading down the hall toward the bathroom.
Yearning moved through her lower body as she watched Roan, dressed in a dusty pair of Levi’s and a dark green cowboy shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, walk away. How she wanted him to touch her. Hold her. The past week had been the best and worst of her life in some ways.