Wind River Wrangler (Wind River Valley #1)(49)

Roan made her want to live again. To dream.

The realization hit Shiloh and shook her to her core as she sat at the table finishing off her third cup of coffee. Roan was vital. A man of the earth. He relished hard, demanding work. His body was ripped and she ached to explore every inch of him in her bed. Her mind kept going there with him. Shiloh knew from just that kiss, Roan would be an exquisite lover. He would take her to places she’d never known existed except in his arms, him inside her, him loving her until she melted like hot syrup all around him. Geez. She had it bad!

Standing, Shiloh was frustrated sexually and emotionally. She rinsed her dishes and put them in the dishwasher. Finishing off her coffee, she decided that keeping busy would get her mind off Roan and her lusting body. The house needed a good weekly cleaning. And it was her turn to do it, anyway. Right now, Shiloh wouldn’t be able to sit and create a thing. Putting some Band-Aids on her blisters, she got to work.

*

Sweat dripped off Roan’s brow as he sat up, resting against his boot heels and wiping his brow with the back of his arm. His stomach growled. It was noon. The sunlight was strong, lancing through the newly created railing he’d put up earlier. He liked the play of shadow and light, liked the dark bars sliding silently across the Trex porch.

His mind and body automatically went to Shiloh, remembering her down on her hands and knees yesterday, placing nails into the Trex like a pro. She sure as hell caught on quickly. The nails were long and designed to solidly hold the wood in place. He’d seen the play of muscles in her forearms and biceps as she handled that nail gun with ease and familiarity. His mouth flexed. Let’s face it, he thought, he’d been in a male world without females around for the last twelve years of his life. In Special Forces, he was in the company of men only. He knew that would change now that women were allowed into combat. The point was, he was never around women.

Women were forgotten in the combat of their black ops missions. While it was true half the team was married, the other half wasn’t. Roan had wanted it that way; not to be distracted by a woman or family left at home. He enjoyed the hell out of women in bed, and even having a meaningful relationship with one woman when he was stateside. Roan had never led that woman on as to their relationship and how it was going to end when he was redeployed.

Now, it was different. Shiloh was different. Damn, the woman was under his skin, worse than an itch that couldn’t be scratched. Laughing to himself as he slowly rose to his full height, hammer gun dangling in his gloved hand, Roan knew the shoe was now on the other foot. Instead of walking away from the woman, he was walking toward Shiloh. And he didn’t want to walk away from her. How the hell had THAT happened? When? Roan prided himself on knowing himself pretty well. He was a hard-core realist. Not a romantic. Not an idealist. In his line of work, pragmatism helped him survive.

He picked up the sound of a truck coming his way. Lifting his chin, he looked toward Pine Hills. There was a dirt and gravel road between the hills and he saw one of the white ranch trucks appear. Who? Walking along the southern part of the porch that still needed the railing built, Roan placed the hammer gun on the deck and dropped his sweat-darkened leather gloves next to it. Taking off his black baseball cap, he ran his fingers through his damp hair and settled the cap back on his head, his focus on the truck coming his way.

Maud? Sometimes, especially on a Sunday afternoon, she’d be out and about in her truck, checking the massive ranch. The weekly tourist families left at ten A.M. And the rest of the day was spent getting ready for another six families to come in for a week beginning at four P.M. the same day. She always stole time about now to drive around the ranch, checking on the fencing, the pastures, and the animals. It was just part of being a rancher.

Roan held on to his surprise when he saw it wasn’t Maud, but Shiloh. As she parked in front of the garage, he stood at the stairs of the porch, hands resting on his narrow hips. His eyes slitted as he watched Shiloh open the door. His body automatically tightened. She’d arranged her hair into a topknot that seemed to be coming undone. Her tank top was a pale green, lovingly outlining her upper body and he wanted to curve his hands around her torso, move them upward to feel the firmness of her breasts, feel them tighten. The Levi’s she wore were loose but still hinted strongly of her long legs. Unhappy with himself, Roan took the steps down to the sidewalk to meet her.

“This is a surprise,” he told her.

Shiloh turned, smiling, holding out a plastic box in his direction. “I felt bad knowing you were out here all alone, without any help putting up that railing. I just made us dessert for tonight and thought you might like a warm piece of apple pie right now for lunch.”

His hand met hers. Roan savored the brief contact as he took the plastic box, a huge slice of pie enclosed in it. “You didn’t have to do this,” he murmured, affected by her thoughtfulness. Her topknot was sliding off to one side, giving her a girlish look, tendrils soft around her temples and flushed cheeks.

Shiloh laughed and shut the door, walking with him up the steps to the cabin porch. “Sure I did. You left me pancake batter this morning in the fridge. Remember?”

He couldn’t tear his gaze from her radiant green eyes. Shiloh looked so happy. Happy to see him? Roan didn’t know and he gave her a sour smile. “What? You’re the kind of woman who, if I leave pancake batter for her, will make me a real, honest-to-God apple pie?” he teased. Roan sat down on the top stair of the porch. There was plenty of room for two people to sit there and not be crowded up against each other. He hoped Shiloh would sit with him. She did.