Chapter Six

Sloane's body felt as though it were floating on the currents of mountain air. In her life, she'd experienced a few massages, but none had such talented hands as the masseuse on The Boot Knockers Ranch.

The relaxation was exactly what she needed after today's events. Seeing Shaw again, dealing with the ugly things he said, and then processing Dylan's reassurances about her coming here left her emotionally exhausted.

The scorching sofa sex and Dylan's skilled tongue buoyed her spirits. That coupled with the massage left her body tingling and tired in all the right ways.

Now…she was starving. Paying attention to her own body was something she stopped doing the minute her daughter was born. Taking stock of her own self in all ways was the first step to recovering what she lost when her relationship with Shaw ended.

The ranch was putting the control back into her hands.

Walking the short distance to the bungalow gave her enough time to consider what she wanted to eat. Spring scents filled the air—cut grass and flowers planted along the walkway. When she neared the barn, her steps slowed. What would happen if she ran into Shaw again?

She'd kick him in the balls. Exchange accusatory words.

None of that would fix matters. It would only leave her feeling worse too.

She was here to recover the parts of her that faded away under the weight of single parenting. Shaw's presence on the ranch disturbed her in so many ways, but she had no direct link to his heart anymore, only through what she shared of Marigold.

Spending time with her Boot Knocker and relaxing was her only priority for the next blissful week.

As she swung her head toward the pasture, she spotted a couple riding off on horseback, side by side, bouncing in the saddles. The woman's hair fluttered out behind her, and one of them let out a whoop of laughter.

It almost made her wish she had the skill to ride. Enjoying the good weather and being in the Alaskan landscape seemed like a good way to forget her problems for a short time.

What other outdoor activities could she and Dylan do together?

Then it hit her. She was hungry. They could enjoy a picnic if she could get her hands on a cooler of food.

That morning, Dylan mentioned ordering the breakfast tray from the dining hall. If she could locate which building that was, she could ask them about a picnic.

As she wandered the stone paths weaving through the beautiful ranch, she created a mental map of everything she saw. There was a greenhouse with tall, vibrant plants visible within the glass walls. Several more outbuildings with metal roofs were just as quaint as the main lodge and Bungalow 12.

Around one corner, she spied a food plot. The big scarecrow sporting faded jeans and an old red flannel shirt brought a smile to her lips.

A few minutes later she came across a plot of ground that made her stop in her tracks.

At first glance, she thought she was looking at a cemetery. Then she realized she wasn't seeing monuments and headstones but statues.

In awe, she walked closer to get a better look. The small, flat lawn had at least a dozen statues.

When she neared the first one, she let out a soft noise of joy. A wolf carved from a beautiful specimen of wood stood sentry at the path leading to the main plot of what she could only call a garden of statues.

Some were carved from wood, but many were stone.

In wonder, she circled the wolf that stood as tall as her, marveling at the way the fur seemed to ripple in the wind. How lifelike the snout and teeth were. The eyes would make her shudder in fear if she'd come across the garden in the dark.

The website didn't mention the statues as an attraction, and it was a little off the beaten path. How many guests missed it each week?

She slowly moved to the next carving of a horse rearing on its hind legs, forelegs pawing the air and mane flowing down its back. Its tail was a marvel so intricately carved from wood that it appeared soft.

Testing the theory, she reached out a finger and touched it. The cool wood under her finger was perfectly smooth. She didn't even pick up a splinter.

She stopped to inspect each statue in the garden. The few in the back of the lot were the most shocking of all for the talent put into their creation.

Three fat pigs made of stone looked as though they'd start snorting and grunting any second. Sloane laughed at the thought of them rooting around for food.

Which gave her another idea. This would be the perfect spot for a picnic.

First, she'd find the food. Then she'd find Dylan to share it with her.

Shaw's face rose in her mind. So handsome. Rugged. His features could be carved into stone the same way these animals were.

He had been on track to have his best year in the NHL. He was close to breaking a record for points that would have possibly gained him a statue in the arena where he played for almost his entire career.

If injuries didn't sideline him for the season, his godlike face and muscled body could have been cast in bronze or chiseled in granite.

Her heart flexed. Every day their daughter grew to share more and more of his features. Marigold had her daddy's attitude too, even at her young age.

Sloane never wanted Shaw to walk out of his child's life—that was his own choice.

Now she saw that he'd run far away to the Alaskan wilderness.

And became a therapist who treats women through sexual relations.

Ugh. The last thing Sloane wanted to dwell on was Shaw spending time with other women. She wasn't exactly jealous…but he sure looked about to erupt when he saw Dylan sucking her nipples in the barn.

Did that mean Shaw still cared about her?

Turning the tables of her mind, she had to question if she'd feel the same if she found him making out with another woman.

They were both adults. They'd moved on. Taking steps backward, at this stage of the game, would not benefit her one bit.

She had to move forward.

Leaving the animals felt a little like walking away from friends without saying goodbye, but she headed in the direction she came from, in search of food for a picnic and the only man she wanted to share it with—Dylan.

* * * * *

"Hold up, Sloane! You're walking so fast. What's the hurry?" Dylan walked a pace behind her down the path leading to parts of the ranch that weren't as developed as the others yet.

Not that he minded the view of her sweet backside in a pair of jeans that accentuated each perfect globe.

He could see how she landed a job as a butt model—it was damn perfect.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Are you staring at my ass?"

"Yup."

She giggled. "I thought you were a boob guy."

He lunged forward, closing the gap between them and yanking her to a stop. Before she could wiggle out of his grasp, he brought his body flush against her, grinding his cock that never went down in her presence into that perfect ass.

Palming her breasts, he felt her nipples harden under his touch.

She almost dropped the picnic basket she insisted on carrying, and the blanket hanging over her arm slipped. Letting out a gasp, she twisted her head to look at him. "Dylan…"

"Mmhmm?"

"We're almost to the spot."

"I've already found two of them." He pinched her nipples, making her cry out and grind her ass against his stiff cock.

"A little…farther."

He placed his mouth at her ear. "I can hardly wait."

When he released her, she didn't immediately start walking but stood there as though gaining her wits. He grinned at how easy it was to shift her off course even while he loved how she'd taken control by organizing a picnic.

The stone trail faded to a footpath that was far less traveled. He moved up beside her and took the basket out of her hand.

He grunted. "Why didn't you tell me this was so heavy? You should have let me be a gentleman and carry it for you."

She tossed him a smile. "I'm used to carting a toddler around. Remember?"

Curiosity flooded in. He wanted to ask so many questions—about her, the child, Shaw and what made him flee to Alaska. But he held his tongue.

His job wasn't to solve those problems, only make her feel good now.

Her stay won't be long enough.

The thought slammed into his brain. His step faltered and his next stride had to be longer in order to keep up with her.

He knew his heart would feel the effects of spending time with Sloane, and Dylan didn't do feelings.

She was too gorgeous, and not only on the surface. He admired so much about her, from her decision to come to The Boot Knockers Ranch to take care of herself to the fact that she'd once put up with Shaw.

Shaw.He let out a sigh.

The man was personable enough—when he chose to be, that was. Which wasn't all the time.

He often stuck to himself. Was deemed a loner by most of the guys. They'd all assumed his world crumbled when he could no longer play professional hockey. Now Dylan had to wonder just how much his choices about his past weighed on him.

Part of him wanted to enfold Sloane in his protective embrace and whisper that she was good enough, desirable and pretty much perfect, as far as he could see.

The other part of him had the urge to walk back to the main ranch and find Shaw. He'd do anything it took to force his demons from him. Even if it meant getting on his knees and showing him with his mouth…

Being stuck in the middle this way, seeing the struggles of two people who once shared a life, left Dylan feeling hot and prickly. Unsettled, he kept his mouth shut and let Sloane take the lead.

When she took another corner that cut along the outer edge of the trees bordering the south side of the ranch, he realized what this super-secret spot she chose was.

She was taking him to see the statues.

His lips cut upward. He often forgot about this place, as it was still under construction.

As the figures came into view, Sloane swung to look at Dylan. "This place isn't listed as one of the features on the ranch website."

"No," he said slowly. "It's still under development." Though whether or not any more animal statues would be added to it was anyone's guess.

They neared the entryway and the wolf that watched over the plot. Dylan paused to look at it, and Sloane slipped her hand into his.

Her side pressed against him, her shoulder brushing his bicep. "It's amazing."

He nodded. "It really is. The man who created it deserves to have a private gallery somewhere."

She jerked her head to pierce Dylan in her gaze. "That sounds like a tale to be told with food in our stomachs."

As if mention of food reminded her body of her hunger, her stomach gave a low rumble.

He tugged on her hand, a laugh on his lips. "Come on. We'll find a spot to eat. Your stomach sounds like one of these wild animals."

She giggled. "I hope not like the pigs in the back."

His gaze cut across the plot to the location of the three sows.

Sloane walked into an open spot between statues and with a flick of her wrists, had the blanket billowing out. She settled it on the grass and slowly sank to her knees.

Moving to the edge, he positioned the basket in the center and took a seat next to her. She began to pull out sandwiches and takeout containers of fresh berries grown in their greenhouse right here on the ranch and potato salad. When she finally withdrew a bottle of good wine, he felt desire for something besides food stirring inside him.

A dozen images strolled through his head, of stripping off Sloane's clothes and dribbling the rich red wine on her naked body, taking extra time between her thighs.

But none of those images included what he was actually seeing in real life.

Standing at the edge of the plot, looking as much of a lone wolf as the one carved from wood…was Shaw.

* * * * *

Dylan saw him first and froze as still as one of the statues. Picking up on the change in him, Sloane twisted her head to follow his line of sight.

When her gaze connected with Shaw's, electricity shot through his entire body.

It stole his breath. When was the last time he felt that shock of excitement? Last time he was on the ice, at the start of the season before he sustained what was now his career-ending leg injury.

He also felt it the last time he and Sloane spoke in person.

His chest heaved. It was a bad idea to come here. He'd brought enough confusion and sadness to her life without wrecking her retreat and any hope of healing.

But a voice in the back of his head had kept him on the path to her after he'd seen Sloane and Dylan walking off together. Can she really heal without us fixing this?

He had to try. For her.

For Marigold.

Hell, maybe even for himself. He believed all he needed to carry on in a new life was to relocate to the land he dreamed of forever. Now he realized that purging this poison he'd been carrying around with him for two years was the only thing that would help him move on.

For a moment, no one moved. Then Dylan's mouth moved as he said something quiet to Sloane. She nodded, and he flicked his fingers at Shaw to join them.

His feet carried him swiftly, but his brain wasn't even involved in the physical motion. At the edge of the blanket, he stopped and slowly sank to the far corner opposite the couple.

Inwardly, he winced at the thought of them as a couple. Sloane would always belong to him. From the first time he laid eyes on her at the party following the game, he couldn't take his eyes off her, let alone quit thinking about her.

And Dylan… Fuck, the man stirred a dark need in Shaw that he didn't know what to do with. Acting on it—especially right now—was an even worse idea than trying to talk things through with Sloane.

His stare latched on to the most beautiful thing in all of Alaska. "Hi, Sloane."

"Shaw."

He dipped his head. "I wanted to apologize for earlier today. The things I said—"

She cut him off by grabbing the wine bottle and the corkscrew. She inserted it into the cork and began working it free.

Her hands shook. Trapping her bottom lip in her teeth revealed just how frustrated she felt, and it wasn't her taking issue with a stubborn cork.

"Here, sweetheart. Let me do it." Dylan rested a hand over hers. When she looked up at him gratefully, a knife sliced deep through Shaw.

She trusted Dylan. As she should. But it didn't make it any easier to swallow.

Relinquishing the bottle and opener to her Boot Knocker, she had no choice but to look at Shaw.

"I apologize, Sloane. I was out of line. I didn't mean any of it."

She searched his eyes as if looking for a lie. He'd never lied to her, not even when he told her that he wasn't cut out to be a single dad with custody on the weekends, and their daughter would be better off without that in her life.

Her breathing grew deep. Finally, she nodded. "Thank you for your apology."

Dylan popped the cork and passed the wine back to Sloane. She wrapped her slender fingers around the neck and brought it right to her lips.

When Dylan chuckled, Shaw's gut bottomed out. The sound reminded him far too much of the night they'd shared. How many times had he wanted to seek Dylan out for another round since then?

Dipping his head, he hid his own smile at Sloane drinking straight from the bottle. She took another swig and then held out the bottle.

Dylan cocked a brow at Shaw.

They were including him in what should be their private moment?

He nodded for Dylan to go first, and the man placed his lips at the rim. Shaw watched his throat work in a long swallow, then another.

Fuck, he'd taken every drop of Shaw's second orgasm that night. His cock stirred again, eager for more.

For things he couldn't have.

What was stopping him from taking what he wanted from Dylan? He was attractive. He turned Shaw on.

And the gleam in Dylan's eyes when he passed the bottle to him showed Shaw that he was more than willing to go for another round.

Both people watched to see what Shaw would do. When he reached out a hand to take the bottle, the dimple Dylan was known for with the ladies winked in and out of his cheek.

He was much too hard for such a thing as a dimple. The man was hard all over, from his rugged features to his callused hands…and his very hard, rigid, throbbing, veined cock.

Shaw's stiffened without any hope of stopping it. All he had to do was see Sloane run her tongue over her full bottom lip to reach full erection.

Taking a swig from the bottle, he savored the knowledge that two people he'd loved thoroughly had wrapped their lips around the same spot.

Damn—he hadn't thought of that night with Dylan as connecting on any level but the physical. Thinking about it over and over again had left him feeling as if it was…more. The revelation left his heart hammering.

If they asked him to join in, could he do it?

Better question was: Could he hold himself back?

After he passed Sloane the bottle, she set it aside and began passing out food. She tore her sandwich in half and held part out to him.

"You don't need to share with me, Sloane."

Her stare burned into his. "I know I don't, Shaw."

It felt like an olive branch.

Accepting it with a small smile, he watched how she interacted with Dylan…and he with her.

He'd seen Dylan with plenty of women in their years on the ranch, but the man seemed more on edge. Like he hovered at the precipice of a cliff.

A strange thought, but now that it was fixed in Shaw's brain, he couldn't shake it. They ate in silence.

Dylan reached into the container of berries and tossed one up in the air, catching it perfectly in his mouth.

Sloane clapped and then a pink flush climbed up her face. "Sorry for that reaction, guys. I'm used to applauding for my daughter."

Her stare darted to Shaw's.

"As in, our daughter who you walked away from?"

He felt those words in the pit of his soul.

Gathering himself off the blanket, he stood. "Well, I'm doing the heavy lifting of chores on the ranch this week. I'd best get back. Thanks for the food, guys."

Without another word or a backward glance, he left the statue garden, feeling more lifeless than the carvings.