Wind River Wrangler (Wind River Valley #1)(48)

“Did you get zapped once? Is that why you’re gun-shy?”

“No. It just scares me. No logical reason,” she said, shrugging.

“Take the second trout,” Roan urged, pointing his fork toward the platter. “You need to put some meat on your bones, Shiloh.” Her name rolled off his lips like an endearment.

“Thanks.”

Roan watched her lift the platter and slide the trout onto her plate. No matter what Shiloh did, it was done with grace. He wondered if she’d ever taken ballet lessons, but tamped down the question that almost flew out of his mouth. “Think you’ll work on your book tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure,” Shiloh admitted. “I’ve been ruminating on this great scene in my head, but I’m not sure it’s ready for birth yet.”

“Do you see your books as children?”

She lifted her chin, regarding him in the gathering silence. “Yes . . . I guess I do. I never thought of it like that.” Giving him a silly grin and tapping her head, she said, “Brain children.”

When Shiloh smiled, Roan’s heart widened like windows being thrown open to allow sunlight into his dark soul. She didn’t realize her effect on him, and a lot HAD happened between them, Roan acknowledged. Even more reason to keep their conversation light and keep things status quo like before the kiss. Roan realized he was now going to be looking at Shiloh, at their situation as “before the kiss” and “after the kiss.” Unhappy with his heart that truly had an emotional mind of its own, he put his emptied plate aside and dug into the large salad.

*

Shiloh awoke slowly, the sun stealing around the edges of the curtains. Rubbing her eyes, she turned over, looking at the small round clock on the bed stand. It was nine A.M.! The house was quiet and she realized as she pulled off the covers, her feet touching the cool cedar flooring, that Roan had left many hours earlier. Probably at dawn. He was used to getting up as darkness was giving way to the coming day.

Pushing hair out of her eyes, Shiloh sat in her lavender cotton nightgown, struggling to wake up. She didn’t wake up fast in the morning, anyway, needing that cup of coffee to jolt her back to reality.

Yawning, she stood and stretched her hands over her head, feeling her body, feeling how her heart automatically centered around Roan. Shiloh touched her lips, remembering that life-affirming kiss she’d shared with him. Her heart wanted to be out with Roan at his cabin, working alongside him like the good team they were. She loved the cabin, loved the layout inside it. Roan had been creative in how he’d designed the rooms, leaving the kitchen and living room open-concept and airy. He was a man who clearly thought things out before starting a project.

Was she a project to him? Shiloh gathered up a clean set of jeans, an orange tank top, and socks, and walked down the hall to the bathroom to get a hot shower. Why had she kissed Roan? It had been a blinding, spontaneous action on her part. She had kissed him. Not the other way around. Groaning, Shiloh stepped into the bathroom and set her clothes on the small vanity. She gathered up her tangled mass of hair and plopped it into a knot on top of her head. Turning on the faucets, she looked forward to the water and the scent of the lilac soap she loved so much.

Even beneath the spray of water sluicing across her face and body, Shiloh couldn’t stop thinking, couldn’t stop feeling Roan’s mouth moving against her lips. The man knew how to kiss! Just thinking about it made her clench inwardly and her body go into an instant ache of yearning.

Her imagination took flight as she covered herself with the bubbles of the lilac soap across her arms. What would his long, roughened fingers feel like sliding across her flesh? How would she react? Shiloh could feel the fever of wanting him already making her breasts tighten. She felt restive, unsettled, needy and pining for his touch upon her.

By the time Shiloh emerged from the bathroom, she decided her wild imagination had full control over her physical body. Padding out to the kitchen, she saw a hand-scrawled note left on the counter. Picking it up, she read, “Shiloh, pancake batter in the fridge. Left some for you. R.”

Her fingertips tingled as she held the note. Her heart swelled. She sighed audibly and set the note aside. The man wasn’t selfish, that was for sure. Roan knew how much she loved pancakes. A soft smile played at the corners of her mouth as she opened the fridge and drew out the pitcher that held the batter. As Shiloh made herself a big stack of pancakes, her mind kept returning to the same question. Why was she afraid to step into a relationship with Roan?

As she slathered butter between the stack and then poured warm maple syrup over it, she frowned. Roan played for keeps. Was that what scared the hell out of her? Feeling she wasn’t capable of commitment but knowing Roan was built that way was the dilemma. As Shiloh hungrily dug into the pancakes, savoring the nutty flavor, the hint of cinnamon combined with the sweet maple syrup, she knew the problem was with her. She didn’t want to hurt Roan. He’d demonstrated consistently that he was a gentleman, that he was sincere and he cared about her. He was sensitive to her needs, too. Knew how to share. Was a team player.

She was in so such trouble.

Shiloh was surprised she finished off the pancakes, feeling as if she’d eaten too much, but thinking about or being around Roan always spurred her appetite. Both stomach-wise and sexually. He’d been right: She was terribly underweight. Six months of being stalked had made her feel like a trapped, frightened animal, confined to her apartment. Just surviving. She’d lost her appetite long ago.