Page 104 of Sunrise & Serenity

Time to not watch the sun rise?

I don’t voice the question, but it hovers in the back of my mind as I wait.

Without my sense of sight, I pay closer attention to the sounds and scents around me. Birds that were calling sleepily on the way here have already begun to sing, and the leaves of the trees behind us rustle in the breeze. The air smells green and damp, with the distinctive tang that follows rain.

I’m so focused that the tiny break in the birdsong almost feels like a signal.

Between one breath and the next, the day dawns.

The insides of my eyelids turn pink as the first rays of the sun hit me. My face warms, and the sunlight washes over my body. I turn my hands so I feel it on my palms.

I’ve taken a hundred photos of the dawn, but somehow, I’ve never experienced it like this.

The birdsong has swelled into a chorus, and even the scent in the air is different. Sun-warmed, if that’s a thing.

Finally, I take a deep breath and open my eyes. The sun has crested the mountain peaks, revealing the valley in all its beauty. Mist rises from the fields, birds swoop through the air, and cattle graze serenely in the distance. Although I can’t see it from here, I know the ranch below is awake, another day already unfolding.

Holden is quiet behind me.

I turn, resting my hands on his chest and tilting my face up toward his. “That was beautiful. I can understand why you and your mom loved coming up here.”

He looks out at the view, jaw tight. His ribs expand beneath my palms, and some of the tension leaves him on his exhale. When he dips his face to mine, his hat brim briefly shades his eyes but not the softening of his mouth. “I should have come back here before.”

The rawness in his voice sends emotion twisting through me. When he threads his fingers through my hair and lowers his lips to mine, I slide my arms around his ribs and press myself against him. My heart squeezes tight when he murmurs, “Maybe I was waiting for you.”

“Holden…” I whisper.

I’m not sure whether he sees the question in my eyes. If he does, he doesn’t seem to have an answer, because he kisses me softly again and steps away. “Guess we should be getting back,” he says, an artificial lightness in his tone. “Don’t want anyone accusing me of slacking off.”

“Okay.” Pretending this thing between us isn’t as confusing as hell is probably for the best.

Now that the sun is out, the ride back to the ranch goes by more quickly. We don’t talk much, but the silence between us isn’t strained. It’s soft and easy, as if we’re still carrying those moments of serenity up on the ridge with us.

By the time we get back, the ranch is in full swing. We manage to untack the horses and get them back in their stalls without bumping into anyone who might ask questions about why we were out riding so early.

Holden takes me to the ranch house for caffeine. Since Harrison is already cheerfully cooking breakfast, we stay to share it. After that, Holden walks me out to his truck so I can grab my laptop.

As he opens the door for me, he lets his hand linger on my waist, the sweep of his thumb a promise of later. The touch lasts only a few seconds, but it’s still enough to send heat racing through me.

I glance around, then purse my lips. “Do you want people to find out?”

He doesn’t even pretend to look guilty. “Find out what? That you wore me down and now I actually enjoy your company? I think they already figured that one out.”

“No,” I mutter. “That it’s more than that.”

Something dangerously close to satisfaction flickers across his face. “How much more?”

I bite the inside of my lip to stop the laugh from escaping. “You’re impossible.”

“So I’ve been told. And I told you—my family won’t care as long as I’m treating you well.”

“I don’t want them to think I’m unprofessional.”

Maybe I’m still not used to this side of Holden, because the way he steps closer and smiles down at me sends butterflies whirling in my stomach. “Being professional is overrated.”

We’re partially concealed behind the open truck door, so after another quick scan to make sure no one’s watching, I run my fingers over the front of his jeans and squeeze, using just enough pressure for his jaw to clench and his dick to swell against my hand. “I don’t think you want to play this game.” Smiling sweetly, I release him.

He casually adjusts himself behind his fly, a smirk tilting his lips. “Now why would you go and make a competition out of it?”