“I wish it were true,” she said. “I make a decent living, but I’m not rich. Maybe later, if my books continue to be popular, that might happen.”
“So that’s why you flew the cattle car instead of business or first class?”
Shiloh nodded, already in love with the sharp, jagged peaks rising in the west near the airport. “Right. What are these beautiful mountains called?”
“The Grand Tetons, but we’ll be driving for about an hour south of here. In the Wind River Valley, where we’re going, you’ll see two mountain ranges on either side of it: the Salt River and Wilson ranges. They aren’t as exciting as the Tetons, but they’ll do.”
She sighed. “The Tetons are stunning.” And then she glanced at his rugged profile. “You’re lucky.”
“Well, you have canyons in New York City,” he said. “Skyscrapers are mountains of another type.”
“You’re a writer.”
Roan shook his head. “No way.”
“The way you see things. That’s creative. And you’re right: All the tall buildings do create canyons. And our skyscrapers do look like mountains.”
Roan shouldn’t feel good about her enthusiastic compliment, but he did. There was such an ease between them he could neither explain, stop, nor change. “Well,” he drawled, “I’m no writer.”
“I think everyone can write. Even if it’s into their personal diary. I have a wonderful software called Alembic. I put my daily journal entries in there.” She saw him give her a cool look. “Okay, maybe you don’t think you’re a writer. But you DO have a way with words.” She enjoyed going down the long hill. Far below she could see a town and assumed it was Jackson Hole. To her left was the Elk Refuge, a ten-foot fence for as far as she could see to keep the elk off the main highway.
“Let’s not talk about me,” Roan said gruffly, uncomfortable. “What kind of books do you write?”
Inwardly, Shiloh squirmed and then hesitated. Finally, she said, “I’m a romance writer.” She saw his brows shoot up. Then, she saw that catlike grin cross his beautifully shaped mouth. Heat pummeled her face and she knew she was blushing! Tucking her hands tensely into her lap, she waited for what she knew was coming. Telling a man she was a romance writer was like green-lighting the guy to either make some snide remark about the genre or to believe it was a come-on, which usually led to him making a pass at her.
Giving her a sidelong glance, Roan saw she was blushing to her roots. He saw anxiety in her eyes, felt her defensiveness. It was even in her voice. “I don’t imagine you tell too many people what you write.”
Anger stirred in her. “I’m PROUD of what I write, Mr. Taggart. I’m not ashamed of it. I tend NOT to tell men precisely because of the way you’ve just reacted.”
So, the filly had some spunk in her after all. Roan wasn’t going to argue the point because she was right. “Maud said you were a best-seller. That means someone likes your books.” Roan really didn’t want to get into an adversarial position with Shiloh and upset her. Maud would be pissed off for starters. He thought he’d smoothed it over with that casual kind of comment.
It felt like steam was coming out of her ears as Shiloh sat there tensely, her hands knotted in her lap. It was a huge disappointment to her that Taggart was like any other male finding out about her occupation. Upon first meeting him, he seemed different. But in all fairness to him, Shiloh knew she was absolutely stressed out and she wasn’t seeing much of anything realistically right now because of the stalker. She rubbed her scrunched-up brow. “Look,” she whispered, “I’m really out of sorts, Mr. Taggart. Just the long flight. I don’t mean to come off as snarky.”
His heart winced. There was a wobble in her voice, as if she were going to cry. Giving Shiloh a glance, he saw her face hidden by a curtain of her red hair. “I’m the one who is at fault here, Ms. Gallagher. I apologize. You’re obviously a good writer and you have an audience who loves your books.” Roan wasn’t sure he should let her know he was aware of her stalker problems. She’d come out here to get away from them. He pulled into the grocery parking lot, glad for the diversion.
“Let’s go in and get you some grub,” he said, trying not to sound so gruff. Instantly, he saw her respond positively. How sensitive was this woman? He walked around and opened the door for her. Shiloh hesitantly took his hand and he helped her out. She looked at him as if he was going to bite her. He felt worse about the way he’d handled the conversation with her.
Shopping wasn’t really his thing. When Roan came to the store, he got what he wanted and was out as fast as possible, not liking crowds of people.