Page 26 of Cautious Love

Maybe she’s at work.

At least that gives me time to figure out how to… ask her. Should it be all business? I don’t know how long this will last. Should I offer an end date? But if things don’t go well with investigating the Kensingtons, it could last a lot longer. My integrity cannot be questioned. It could throw the entire case off. My reckless choices cannot cost Paxton its safety.

Not to mention my family will call my bluff by looking at me. I can’t involve them by telling them the truth, yet I hate keeping secrets, especially of this magnitude, from them. But it’s one I’m going to have to keep so they’re safe. Which also means I have to convince Shiloh, not only to marry me, but once my family inevitably finds out, we will have to be believable. We have our work cut out for us. Maybe I should just turn myself in.

After my shower, I put on a nice pair of jeans and a starched shirt I usually reserve for church and Sunday dinners. It’s the least I can do because this has to happen tonight.

I pocket the ring and start dinner.

When I’m almost done, the door slams and Shiloh comes tumbling into the kitchen.

She drops her water bottle and purse on the counter and kicks her shoes off, tossing them into the laundry room.

I stand there wondering why she’s so …thisand stir the ground beef.

She pushes her wild blonde hair back and jerks back a little. “Oh, hi,” she says.

She really didn’t see me.

“Everything okay?” I ask her.

“Uh, my ribs hurt and I can’t feel my feet. Why?” she asks.

“No reason,” I mutter, and press my lips together. I have to proceed gently with this.

She nods and disappears down the hall.

Pulling two bowls out, I scoop the sweet potatoes, ground beef, and beans, then top them off with cheese and a cilantro avocado sauce.

Shiloh comes back into the kitchen, pulling her shirt over her head, flashing me in the process, as she walks and I look away, ignoring the warmth in my chest. I don’t think she intends to be this chaotic, but I’m starting to realize that’s who she is.

“So I wanted to—” she says, and comes up short. “What’s this?” she asks.

“I made dinner; figured you’d want some too.”

“You made me dinner?” she says in a high-pitched voice that mildly scares me.

I swear she’s about to burst into tears.

“It’s not that big a deal,” I mumble and sit at the table.

She stares at the bowl, and I wonder if maybe she’s allergic to something. The thought didn’t really cross my mind. Most people aren’t allergic to these basic ingredients, but hey what do I know.

Shiloh takes the bowl and the fork I sat next to it and hesitates.

Why is she acting like this? Is it me? Am I the weird one?

“You can sit down, unless you have somewhere else to be,” I tell her, gesturing to the chair across from me.

“Okay, thank you,” she says, and hustles around the table.

The awkward tension between us is starting to grate on me. I can tell she has something to say, and I’m ready to rip off the Band-Aid.

Gentle, Ledger. You must be gentle.

I clear my throat. “What were you going to say?”

“Oh, uh, I was going to tell you I have a shift at the Wooden Cowboy tonight, and I was wondering if you would be okay withme staying one more night. I’ll get out of your hair tomorrow,” she says, dropping her eyes to her food.