Wind River Wrangler (Wind River Valley #1)(47)

Shaking his head, he brought the veggies from the fridge to make them into a salad. Since when had he ever wanted a long-term relationship with a woman? He wasn’t thinking a week or even a month with Shiloh Gallagher. He was thinking a lifetime. His heart clearly was not in sync with his head. Neither was his body. Her bold kiss vividly told him what he’d never really found. Until now. Until Shiloh.

Taking a deep breath, Roan ordered himself to stand down. Her soft mouth had dismantled him on every conceivable level. He hadn’t been thinking about kissing her. His mind was focused on that porch. Did he like having her company while they installed it? Yes. It was new. It was . . . well . . . amazing. She had a way of getting inside walls he kept well in place around him. Shiloh was like silent fog stealing over the landscape of himself, subtly infiltrating him as a man before he ever realized it. And once he did, it was too late.

Roan didn’t put the blame for the kiss on Shiloh. It had just HAPPENED. As if the chemistry had built and built, and the explosion that occurred as a result had taken them both by surprise. He wondered if Shiloh felt the same. Roan honestly didn’t know. Her green eyes were always alive with intelligence, but he couldn’t read her penetrating mind. Or her heart. Now, he wished he could.

Within minutes, Roan had everything assembled for their dinner. Shiloh had taken the bowls of salad over to the table and he brought the fish and a dish of steaming peas slathered with fresh basil leaves in melted butter. She had thoughtfully brought out a half dozen of his biscuits left over, warmed them in the microwave, and placed the butter and honey next to them. Shiloh knew how much he liked his homemade biscuits and he smiled to himself.

As Roan pulled her chair out for her to sit down, he said, “How are your hands?”

Shiloh shrugged. “A few blisters is all.” She opened them as he sat down, showing her palms to him. “No big deal.”

Roan settled into the chair and gently held one of her hands, looking at two small blisters caused by the nail gun she’d used all day. Her skin was soft. Fragrant. His nostrils flared, catching the scent of her lilac soap combined with the shampoo Shiloh had used. “You should have let me do most of the work,” he said, reluctantly releasing her hand. He opened his palm, showing her the thick calluses created by constant hard work around the ranch. “I’ve already built the calluses up to protect my skin.”

“I’ll just put Band-Aids on them and they’ll be fine.” Shiloh placed one trout on her plate.

“Did you get blisters when you worked on those other homes?” he wondered. It was a special hell watching her graceful movements as she added a hefty amount of peas to her dish.

“Always.” Shiloh smiled a little. “I’ve got a sedentary career, sitting in a chair for hours at a time. When I volunteer to work on a house, the first couple of weeks my palms are a mess, but after that, I get calluses and I’m fine for the duration.”

Roan put two trout on his plate, leaving the last one for Shiloh. She needed to eat more, but he said nothing. “I’m going out tomorrow morning to work on the cabin.” He wanted to ask her to come along, but thought better of it, not wanting Shiloh to feel as if he expected anything of her. She’d warned him off and he respected that.

“What are you going to do tomorrow?”

“Start putting up the railing.” Every cell in him wanted her to come along. Roan liked her quiet, feminine company. He had no fantasy about kissing Shiloh again. He’d promised to give her the room she needed. And frankly, she was stressed enough.

“What kind of wood will you use for the railing?”

“I’m using cedar. It’s insect-proof. I’ve got it stacked in the garage to keep it out of the elements and dry. The boards have to be straight.” And water always bent boards if they weren’t protected from the harsh elements. He watched her lashes lower as she consumed the trout. Damn, gazing at those lips of hers move as she ate was sending a twisting, needy ache straight down to his lower body. The woman was a certifiable riot to his body. She wrote romances. She had to know her effect on him. Didn’t she? Roan decided unhappily that Shiloh didn’t realize how she affected him at all. Reminding himself that if she’d only had three relationships in her life, her experience with men was limited. The same with sex. Or lust. Or . . . damn, his mind just wouldn’t get out of that life-changing kiss Shiloh had shared with him.

“Whenever I worked on a house crew, I built porches, railing, and then went inside and we started the interior work. I did insulation, drywall, and painting.”

“You’re multiskilled,” he teased, one corner of his mouth lifting as he met and held her gaze. Wanting to drown in those forest green eyes, Roan forced himself to break off contact. If he didn’t, he was going to give his soul to her. Could one kiss REALLY make him feel like this? He’d kissed plenty of women in his time, but no kiss had ever packed the punch, the depth, and the feverish heat that came with it when Shiloh shyly touched his lips in return.

Shrugging, Shiloh hungrily finished off the first trout. “I’m not any good at plumbing or electrical.” She offered him a small smile. “I’m always worried I’ll get electrocuted. You know, put the two wrong wires together and get zapped?”

He nodded. “Plumbing and electric are my specialties.”

“Good thing,” Shiloh said with a quiet laugh. “Because I have a healthy respect for electric. I stay away from it.”