Page 128 of Sunrise & Serenity

Her lashes flutter. “What if I am?”

“Careful, sweetheart.”

“Or what?”

Hidden from everyone’s view, I slide my hand between her legs and curve it around her inner thigh, giving it a slow squeeze. Her breath hitches.

There. That reaction. Mine.

“Holden,” she mouths.

I drag my thumb over her warm skin once, then force myself to let go.

If I don’t, this night’s going to end with her bent over the hood of my truck behind the bar.

Still might.

Judging by how pink her cheeks are and the way she suddenly won’t look at me, she’s fully aware of where my head just went.

River tells a story about Quinn nearly setting fire to the branding shed last summer, and Sage laughs, attention shifting away from me again.

But I can still feel the heat of her skin against my palm. Still smell lime and mint and honeysuckle every time she turns toward me.

The longer the night goes on, the harder it is to pretend there’s nothing more to us than this. And I don’t mean pretending around my family—hell, I doubt what we’re doing is much of a secret anymore. The truth is, it’s become almost impossible to imagine her not here, not in my bed, not in my life.

I just need to figure out what the hell to do about it.

Because in a few weeks, she’s supposed to leave.

The weight of that thought might explain why, when we’ve all drifted back to the bar later and Gage Ashland slides into the gap beside her, my whole body goes rigid.

He brushes his shoulder against hers, his smile all rough charm. “Maybe the McBrides are onto something after all. Pretty women and fancy cocktails may just be the key to bringing in the tourists.”

It’s not the words that set me off. It’s his tone. The hint of mockery threaded through it.

Beside me, Sage goes still.

Everything inside me snaps taut.

I set my beer down slowly, but before I can respond, Tessa appears at her brother’s side. “At least they’re trying something, Gage.”

It feels like the entire bar pauses.

He offers her an irritated look. “Don’t tell me you’re taking the McBrides’ side now.”

“I’m taking the side that understands cattle prices aren’t going to magically fix themselves,” she says, chin lifted.

Levi’s here now too, shaking his head. “They’re going to turn the whole county into one big damn tourist trap.”

River turns away from the bar and rests his elbows lazily on its lacquered surface. “You’re saying that like your family doesn’t charge hunters fifteen grand a season to shoot on your land.”

Laughs go up around us, but Levi glares at him.

Gage’s expression hardens too. “That’s different.”

“How?” Sage asks quietly.

He scowls down at her. “Because ranches aren’t resorts, lady.”