Shoving to her feet, she opened the gold and red cedar door, noticing that there was a new small window so a person could look out to see who was standing there. Pushing the door open, she stepped inside and gasped. The living room and kitchen were not only completed, but filled with furniture! Her gaze flew to the kitchen to her left. It was finished! Amazed, Shiloh left the door ajar, placed the keys on the foyer table, and took off her jacket and baseball cap. It was warm in the cabin and her boots thunked across the shining, highly polished floor. Everything was so bright, so hopeful-looking. Running her fingers across the black granite that sparkled with gold veins within it, she liked the huge island. There were now tall bar stool chairs with black leather seats placed on one side of it. The kitchen drew her like a magnet because she loved to cook, loved herbs and the wonderful fragrances that always emanated from them. The last time she’d seen the kitchen, it was a shell. She recalled Roan had shown her that he’d built two large windows in front of the double sink area so that while he was there, he could look out across the rolling beauty of the land.
Even better, he’d installed another window, a smaller one, on one side of the massive commercial stove and venting system. That was a thoughtful touch that told her Roan wanted the outdoors, as much as possible, to be inside his cabin. The Wolf stove had six gas-fed burners. The aluminum vent above was brushed and muted, allowing the gorgeous gold, red, and tan glass tile work on the backsplash to blend with the granite. Everything was understated, like Roan, as she leaned over and touched the long, rectangular glass tiles. They pulled in the color of the cedar floor. It was a thoughtful plan and Shiloh smiled, admiring Roan’s gifts and skills for putting the tile in place. He was a man of many, many talents.
She turned, her gaze turning to the living room. Roan had put up a cedar railing to demarcate the kitchen from the other room. To her surprise, she saw a huge black, white, gray, and red Navajo rug that spread in the center of the floor.
He now had a dark brown leather couch and several overstuffed rust-colored chairs around it. Everything, she realized, was connected with that gorgeous hue of gold and crimson found in the cedar flooring. Her smile increased as she saw a red afghan folded across the back of the couch, the same color of the red of the cedar. Roan’s eye for detail was surprising. Shiloh didn’t think many men had this sense of color and design. Her mother, Isabella, had always been the fashion designer of their apartment. A warmth flowed through Shiloh as she remembered as a child that her father had problems matching colors and often her mother chose his clothing for him. And her father had been eternally grateful.
The cabin had been a shell ready to be painted the last time Shiloh had seen it. Now, it was a home. It clearly reflected Roan’s quiet strength and masculinity. But it wasn’t a harsh male sort of design. Shiloh liked the warmth of the wood, the golden radiance of the sun sliding silently across the polished floor, creating reflective light everywhere. The brown of the leather sofa was actually toward the red end of the spectrum. The cedar coffee table in front of it looked hand hewn and designed. Shiloh would bet that Roan had designed it. The legs were curved and feminine-looking, with ball feet. As her gaze took in the tables at each end of the couch, she saw they were the same design. Almost as if Roan had introduced the curves to counter the angles elsewhere. A balance. She liked that, appreciating the beauty of the hand-carved cedar furniture.
There was a central light above the living room. So many people, she’d discovered, put antlers together with lights and used them as decorative Western features, but not here. Instead, as she turned and studied the huge central chandelier, her curiosity turned to wonder. Roan had used the same curving cedar design and they were like eight arms flowing sinuously from the center, outward. As she stepped closer, truly absorbing the sculpture, the art of it, her amazement grew.
Roan had twined two different types of wood around the main center post of the chandelier. One wood was reddish colored. The other, a deeper gold color, even more so than the cedar wood itself. They twined like vines, perhaps, four of them around each arm, to the end of it, so that there was a red and gold color on every other arm. And within the twined pieces of wood were highly faceted colored glass in blue, crystal clear, and green colors placed tastefully here and there. As the sunlight shot through the area, the crystals sparkled, creating a breathtaking collage of color.
At the end of each arm of the chandelier was a light hanging down from it. And surrounding the top of the light was a tentlike wooden roof with the twine of the colorful wood flowing around it.
She pressed her hands against her heart as she absorbed all that Roan had done to create this piece of incredible art that was fully functional. How long had it taken him to carve and make it? The details were so intricate and delicate. So feminine, as if honoring the beauty of women. Shiloh was sure he didn’t consciously realize that, but as she looked around, there was decided balance between the hard angles of the masculine and the curves of the feminine. Her mother had taught her to look at everything in those terms.
“You found my surprise for you.”
Whirling around, her eyes widening, Shiloh gasped. She saw Roan standing in the doorway, saddlebags draped loosely in one of his gloved hands. He was smiling, his eyes warm with what Shiloh recognized as love for her. And it really was. Her heart swelled.
“You scared me,” she whispered, her heart pounding beneath her hand.
“Sorry. I didn’t want to disturb you.” Roan gestured toward the chandelier. “You seemed caught up in it.” He walked in, taking off his gray Stetson and hanging it on a peg near the doorway.