She filled the silence that followed with a sudden question. “Would you like me to finish the drawing?”
His throat went dry. The question had gotten complicated in the space of a moment as he started to recognize that Abigail wasn’t going to be the kind of woman who would be open to a purely physical relationship.
“I wouldn’t want to keep you from your work.” He couldn’t think of a more eloquent retreat with Abigail moving toward him. Touching him again.
“Not at all.” She took his hand briefly to lead him toward a chair near her painting spot, her touch fanning the flame inside him, making him think about so much more. “Have a seat and I’ll finish up. You can see what it’s like to watch an artist at work.”
In the space of five minutes, Vaughn realized he’d somehow used up all his emotional reserves today. All of his ability to detach. Because that simple touch from Abigail sent all the wrong messages to his brain. He hadn’t given himself the outlet of a sexual relationship since he’d returned from Afghanistan. And now, the consequences of that had him on sensory overload, when he’d already battled the aftermath of a hellish surgery this morning.
A perfect storm of too many emotions without enough time to process them. He should have taken the time to go home and pick up Ruby before he came here. Having his dog beside him would have helped.
But he was already sitting in the seat Abigail had shown him when she returned with a heavy pencil in one hand and her half-made sketch in the other. She set both on a low table nearby, then moved closer to him, her gaze all over him. Studying him.
Seeing inside him somehow.
“Do you mind if I position you just a little?” she asked, already setting aside the folder he’d been carrying.
He wasn’t sure if he’d agreed or not. His forehead broke out in a sweat. Warning heat blasted up his back. He wanted her.
“Here.” Abigail set her hands on his shoulders and gently shifted them toward her.
She stood close, her knee brushing his thigh as she moved him, her breasts at eye level. She smelled like cinnamon and oranges, a spicy, tangy fragrance that would be burned into his memory forever. Sunlight kissed her face as she lifted his chin with one palm, her eyes taking a critical assessment of his features while he battled lust and a whole knot of other things he couldn’t come close to naming. Hunger for her gnawed at him. Hot. Persistent.
“I’ve got to go.” He clamped a hand on her wrist. Too hard at first. But then, realizing his responses were all out of whack, he gentled his hand. Released her. “I’m sorry, Abigail. I forgot that I said I would—” He rose from the chair. Sidestepped her. “Upload my notes on a critical-care patient after some—” His brain worked to come up with something vaguely believable before he did something stupid. Like kiss her until they were both breathless. Senseless. “Technical difficulties at the hospital.”
His voice rasped drily as he grappled for control.
“Of course.” She nodded even though she appeared as perplexed as he felt. “I’m sure I’ll see you at the hospital when I start work on site.”
“Right.” He didn’t reiterate his offer for her to come by his ranch. He needed to get his head on straight first. “I’m sure you will.”
Backing out of the door, he lifted a hand in a quick wave.
“Thank you for coming by. I couldn’t be more excited about the project,” she called after him.
But Vaughn didn’t answer. He was down the steps and seated in his truck in no time, slamming the door behind him while he turned over the engine and blasted the air-conditioning on his overheated body.
He didn’t know what the hell he’d been thinking, pursuing this sudden attraction he was clearly not ready to handle. Maybe some other day, when he wasn’t already depleted from a surgery that had brought back too many memories. But for right now, he needed to put some distance between him and a woman who stirred a surplus of emotions. No matter how much he thought he had mastered detachment, Abigail Stewart made him realize he’d only succeeded in getting damn good at lying to himself.
Three
A few days later, Abigail wondered if it had been presumptuous of her to accept Vaughn’s offer to search for pieces of fallen wood on his ranch outside of town. Driving out of downtown toward the address Vaughn had given her, she knew it was too late to turn back now. She did really want the chance to walk through the trees and find inspiration, along with some different kinds of boughs for the oversize statue she was creating for Royal Memorial. That much was true.
But there was no denying her interest in the lone wolf doctor who so fascinated her.
When she’d texted her request for when she’d like to come to his property, the response had been almost immediate, making her wonder if he was just that prompt. Or if he’d been thinking about her, too. She was intrigued to see him again even though she knew she needed to tell him about her pregnancy.
Now, turning down the road that passed the Ace in the Hole Ranch, where she used to work for the man she’d believed to be Will Sanders, she couldn’t stop the flood of memories. The main house was massive, with a deep front porch and multiple rooflines, plus an open breezeway connecting to a guest cottage. The crisp, white-painted home and dark shutters were immaculate, the trimmed hedges in perfect alignment. In the years she’d lived in Royal, she’d never seen the rolling lawn allowed to grow a millimeter too long. At night, it was really something to behold, with the many windows lit from within, and landscape lighting
