Wind River Wrangler (Wind River Valley #1)(40)

“We’ll leave at eight tomorrow morning,” Roan told her. “I spend dawn to dusk out there. You up for it?”

Was she ever!

*

There was a decided chill in the air when they arrived at Roan’s cabin. The eastern sunlight bathed the front of the two-story cabin, making it look like molten gold. Shiloh wore loose Levi’s, knowing she’d be down on her knees off and on all day. Laying porch was kneeling work. She wore a dark red tee with sleeves and a heavy, dark blue chambray shirt over it, plus her Levi’s jacket to ward off the chill. To be able to work closely with Roan all day long brought another kind of excitement to Shiloh. She liked being close to him. He always made her feel happy. Lighter.

Roan pulled his black Chevy pickup to the garage and climbed out. He unlocked one of the doors and retrieved two toolboxes filled with carpenter tools. He gave her the smaller, lighter wooden toolbox.

“Your gloves are in this one,” he said, handing it off to her.

“Thanks.” Today, Roan wore a black baseball cap, not his cowboy hat. Shiloh took the toolbox and followed him to the south side of the house. He had on Levi’s and a black T-shirt that sinfully outlined his upper body; she was salivating to slide her fingers across the fabric to feel his muscles beneath it. Such fantasy!

Her imagination always went wild around Roan. He inspired her on so many levels. He looked more like a black ops soldier today, not a cowboy. She wondered how many times he’d had a brush with death. He always seemed so calm and centered. Nothing seemed to rock his world, unlike her own. And it was that quiet steadiness that appealed so strongly to Shiloh.

Roan put her to work right away. He uncovered the Trex that was six feet long and told her to measure it to a certain length, then go over to the garage where he had his radial saw set up and cut them to those lengths. Shiloh liked that he trusted her. He got to work building the wooden frame.

Shiloh became lost in the process of measuring, carrying over the Trex, and then cutting it. She heard Roan hammering almost constantly and sometimes would look out the garage to see him laying down the four-by-four cedar posts that would be the template for the porch. Just watching his darkly tanned arms, the muscles in them, the gleam of sweat on them as he worked, made her feel needy and hungry for him. He worked slow but sure and the pounding of the hammer was like music of a different sort to her.

Within the first hour, Shiloh had the south side of the porch cut to lengths and had carried them over to the wooden frame. Roan was on his knees and sat up, resting back against his heels, wiping the sweat off his face. He caught and held her gaze as she straightened, brushing off her shirtsleeves.

“Time for a break,” he told her, motioning to the large ten-gallon dispenser of water he carried in the back of his truck. “Let’s hydrate.” He pushed to his feet, laid his hammer down, and took off the leather construction belt from around his narrow hips.

The sun had risen higher, feeling warm on Shiloh. She had tamed her hair into a long, single braid down her back to keep it out of the way. Pulling off her damp leather gloves, she stuffed them in her back pocket. Roan pulled the container to the end of the tailgate, filling two plastic glasses with water. He handed her one.

Their fingers met and Shiloh selfishly absorbed his momentary contact. “Thanks,” she said, thirsty.

Roan pushed the container back into the bed of the truck. The day was going to be a bright blue sky, no clouds, and the land was warming up. It was perfect. He sat down on the tailgate and patted a spot next to him. “Come sit. It’s good to take a rest.”

Shiloh tried to still her heart as Roan gave her a long, heated look. The man wanted her. She wanted him. Why was she still standing in the way? Frustrated with herself, she hopped up on the tailgate, swinging her legs beneath it as she sipped the last of the water. When Roan took off his baseball cap and wiped his sweaty brow, she thought he was incredibly rugged-looking, and so damned sexy. Trying to quell her body, she sat and gazed around at Pine Grove, not far from the cabin. The wildflowers in the nearby meadow were now blooming in wild profusion and looking like a rainbow swath to Shiloh. The air was sweetly scented with all their fragrances and she inhaled it deeply, thinking that this place was so much better than Central Park in New York City.

“Looks like you’ve got enough Trex cut to lay,” Roan said, gesturing to the Trex she’d stacked near the wooden frame.

“I think so.”

“You’re a hard, consistent worker,” Roan murmured, catching her gaze. Red tendrils curled and stuck to her temple and cheek. She was perspiring from working too. “Any problems handling that stuff?”

“No. I’ve worked with Trex before.” Shiloh had to wear a protective face mask to prevent herself from inhaling small particles as she cut it. “Do you want me to start laying it down?”

Roan smiled a little. “You’re a regular workhorse, Shiloh.”

She grinned a little. “I love feeling taxed, physically. The last six months, it’s killed me not to go for my daily jog through Central Park.” She had already taken off her jacket, but while carrying wood, she’d kept her protective chambray shirt on her arms. Splinters and cuts were always a possibility.

“You’ve jogged every day here,” Roan said. The gleam of perspiration was across Shiloh’s face. She looked healthy, flushed, her eyes radiant with happiness. This was a woman who worked as hard as he did, and loved doing it. Just one more thing to like about her, Roan thought. The way her mouth moved, her lips, made him burn with longing. She seemed at ease in his company. Not wary. Not threatened. He wondered what she would do if he tried to kiss her. It was a thought, but that was all it was. Roan knew if Shiloh came to him, it would be the only way.