Fractured Sky (Tattered & Torn #5)(34)

When I got out of prison, I hadn’t wanted the feeling of having people’s eyes on me. So, I’d slowly learned to make meals for myself. I had that damned kitchen duty to thank for teaching me the basics. I’d built from there.

Shiloh’s cheeks pinked. “I’m really only good at lasagna.”

“That’s a good staple to start with. I could teach you more, if you want.”

“I’d like that.” She bent and picked up the box. “Tonight, I’ll be the sous chef. Because I’m freaking starving.”

I followed Shiloh inside, Kai darting in ahead of me. Always trying to steal my girl.

My steps faltered. My girl? Alarm bells went off in rapid succession.

I’d always been at peace with the knowledge that I wasn’t made for relationships. I couldn’t let down my walls enough for that. It wouldn’t be fair to the woman.

Yet, here I was, wanting that. Wanting her. And not just because of the healthy dose of lust that thrummed through me any time I caught sight of Shiloh. It was more than that. I wanted to be near her. To hear what she thought about things. To see her work with the horses on my ranch or tear across the field on Sky’s back as if she could touch the clouds.

“I’m just gonna put my bag in the guest room.”

The gruff edge to my voice had Shiloh’s brow furrowing. I ignored her confusion as I set down the bags of groceries and then headed for the bedrooms. I couldn’t stop my gaze from pulling to the room I knew she’d taken. I swore I could smell a hint of that floral scent that clung to her. I didn’t know if it was shampoo or lotion. It could’ve been perfume, but she didn’t strike me as the type.

Whatever it was, it floated through the air in the hallway, just another in a series of temptations that told me that staying in a confined space with Shiloh was a recipe for disaster. Like always, I ignored the warnings and dropped my duffel onto the guest bed.

I twisted my head, cracking my neck. “Get it the hell together.” I took one more lungful of air that wasn’t tainted with Shiloh’s scent and then headed back towards the kitchen.

“I wasn’t sure what you needed,” Shiloh said as she pulled items from the box.

“I harvested the last of the winter squash. I was thinking something with that if you’re game.”

“I’ll eat just about anything but liver and onions.”

I chuckled and moved to the sink to wash my hands. “Noted.”

“Do you mind if I take a quick shower? I’m grody from the day.”

My Adam’s apple bobbed as I swallowed. “Of course. Take all the time you need. This will be a bit.”

Shiloh nodded. “Don’t do the dishes. I’ll get those when we’re done.”

“Deal.”

Kai looked up at me as Shiloh took off for the bathroom. There was an accusation in his eyes as if it were my fault that she was no longer here.

“The way you moon over her is a little pathetic.”

Kai barked, and I swore he was saying: “Like you’re any better.”





Shiloh had her damp hair wound into a knot atop her head. All through dinner, I found myself tracing the kaleidoscope of colors in it: browns and golds and even a hint of red.

Everything about the woman drove me to distraction. But at least it was better than the sounds of the damned shower as I’d cooked. Or worse, the silence that followed, knowing that she was just feet away, all bare, damp skin.

“That was incredible. You could open your own restaurant.”

Shiloh’s voice cut through my lust, followed quickly by guilt for letting myself idle there. I cleared my throat. “No interest in that.”

She pulled a knee up to her chest and rested her chin on it. “I wouldn’t be interested either.” She was quiet for a moment. “I have to be honest. I wouldn’t have pegged your go-to dish as roasted squash with quinoa and pear.”

“And what would my go-to dish be?”

Shiloh raised a shoulder in a half shrug, her oversized t-shirt sliding down and exposing smooth, tanned skin. “Some form of meat and potatoes.”

I stiffened slightly. That had been my stepdad: meat, potatoes or rice, and one vegetable at every dinner. The sound of plates flying off the table and crashing to the floor filled my mind. Angry words hurled at my mother, one after the other. The crack of a slap.

I shoved the memories down—every last one.

“There’s chorizo in there, too.”

“Fancy sausage. It just goes to show you shouldn’t make assumptions.”

I traced a design in the condensation of my glass. “I like playing with different flavors. Things you wouldn’t think would go together.”

“Salty and sweet.”

“Exactly.” Images flashed in my mind again, but these were different. My lips on Shiloh’s skin. The taste of her on my tongue.

Shit. I needed to get out of this room before I did something stupid.

I shoved back from the table. “I need to send a few emails before I crash.”

She blinked a few times, lowering her leg to the floor. “You don’t want dessert? I’ve got some ice cream in the freezer.”

“No,” I clipped, the single word coming out harsher than I’d intended. I cleared my throat, trying to temper my words. “I’m good. You need any help with the dishes?”