Shiloh nodded and Roan showed her where to put the toolbox out of the way so the horse wouldn’t get tripped up into it. When he chose a currycomb, he set it into her hand, showing her how to hold it. His fingers were strong and her flesh leaped as he gently curved her fingers around the wooden handle.
“Now, a curry is used only for the meaty parts of the horse,” he told her. “You’d never run these sharp teeth down a horse’s legs. It would hurt him.” He positioned Shiloh on one side of Charley, putting her left hand on his rump, and then wrapped his hand around hers to show her how to use the currycomb.
Shiloh’s mouth went dry. Roan was standing right behind her, maybe an inch or two between them. She could feel his male heat, his scent in her nostrils, her hand tingling wildly as he showed her the way to curve the curry in order to clean the horse, but not hurting his thin skin. Next came a lesson with a stiff brush that would take all the dead skin, mud, or dust loosened by the curry off the horse. Lastly, he showed her how to use the soft dandy brush as a final cleansing of the horse and his legs.
Her heart was pounding in her chest and it wasn’t from fear. She felt herself going achy as she worked in tandem with Roan as he showed her the ropes of grooming the horse. By the time they were done, she felt dampness between her thighs. A quiver moved through her and Shiloh was never more aware than in this heated moment how sexually starved she really was. Roan just turned on every sexual button she had. And yet, he didn’t seem to be attracted to her, his words and movements brisk and to the point. There was no teasing in his eyes, no suggestive movement of his body toward hers. It was all business from Roan’s end and she swallowed hard, wishing it was otherwise.
Next came learning how to saddle a horse. That was more complex. Roan showed her and then she emulated him. Only, she didn’t sit the saddle on Charley’s withers where it should have gone the first time. More than once, she felt Roan’s patience with her. She was worried he’d be in a rush, frustrated with her mistakes, but he didn’t seem to be.
“Okay,” Roan said, congratulating her, “you’re now ready to throw a leg over your horse once you get him out of the cross ties and into the barnyard.” He pointed in that direction. Settling his hat on his head, he watched as she removed the panic snaps from the horse’s halter and sedately led him down the concrete passageway and outside. Shiloh didn’t have a cowboy hat; she wore a dark green baseball cap instead. Roan untied his big quarter horse gelding and walked over to where she stood with Charley.
He dropped the horse’s reins, being ground-tied trained. “Here’s how you mount your horse,” Roan said, and slid the toe of his boot into the left-hand stirrup and straightened, throwing his long, powerful leg up and across Charley’s back. Roan found Shiloh was very good at show-and-tell. She picked it up immediately. And Roan wasn’t disappointed as she copied him, sliding that nice-looking rear of hers into that saddle.
Roan positioned each of her feet into the stirrups, showed her how to clamp her thighs against the saddle, keep her toes up, heels down. And then he showed her how to guide Charley with the reins. Touching Shiloh was the best part of this educational process with her. He noticed that when he did touch her, her cheeks would flush. There was something living and organic happening between them and as much as he tried not to respond to it, certainly not let Shiloh know about his reactions, Roan damn well wanted this woman in his bed. Where she belonged.
“Okay, we’re good to go for a ride,” he told her, quickly mounting Diamond, his blood bay quarter horse gelding. Gesturing toward the pine grove that stood two miles away and to the east of the ranch, he said, “Cluck with your tongue and Charley will move forward.”
To her surprise, the old paint did just that. The movement felt good. Shiloh laughed a little. “It feels like I’m in a rocking chair!”
His body responded to her infectious, low laugh, the sparkle that came to her eyes that held surprise over her discovery. The expression on her face was of an excited child off on some fantastic adventure. It warmed Roan’s heart to see that kind of reaction in a grown woman. Shiloh might be a hard-working writer, responsible, meeting deadlines, organized and disciplined, but she could drop that demeanor when given the opportunity and revert to being a kid. That made him smile, but he covered it by grazing his jaw with his leather glove.