Page 139 of Sunrise & Serenity

The corner of his mouth tips up beneath the brim of his hat. And just like that, warmth spreads through me all over again.

God, this man is lethal.

I smile back, then force myself to turn around and keep going.

An hour later, I sit on the porch swing outside the main house with my laptop balanced across my knees and three layout drafts scattered beside me.

The morning sun is already warm against the side of the house, though a cool breeze still drifts down from the mountains. The ranch is quieter at this time of day, with most everybody already out working. The distant sound of machinery drifts from the south pasture, and horses move lazily around the corrals below the house.

It feels like home.

And the thought of leaving cuts deeper every time it surfaces.

I take a breath, then open my inbox again and pull up the residency email.

Milan Contemporary Arts Residency Program.

The words stare back at me from the screen. It still doesn’t feel real. Twelve months in Europe. The kind of opportunity I’ve wanted for years. So why does it feel like someone else’s life? Because instead of excitement, all I can think about is Holden half asleep this morning with his arm heavy around my waist and the dawn light spilling across his cabin walls.

I close the email again and force myself to get back to work.

A little later, the crunch of tires on gravel distracts me. I glance up absently, freezing as a shiny black sedan pulls up beside the porch. It’s a rental, and it doesn’t belong here at all.

My stomach drops before the driver’s door even opens, as if it somehow knows before my brain does.

No. No, no, no.

Graham climbs out of the driver’s seat, pushing his sunglasses back into his perfectly styled blond hair, and scans our surroundings.

For one disorienting second, it’s as if two versions of my life just collided head-on.

As soon as he spots me on the swing, he smiles and starts toward me, his gait easy, as if traveling to another state and showing up uninvited after barely speaking since our breakup is completely reasonable.

I slide my laptop onto the swing, then stand quickly and hurry down the stairs to intercept him before he gets too close to the house or to Holden’s family.

Or Holden.

“Sage.” His smile carries the smooth charm I fell for as a starstruck college student. “One of the workers at the construction site said I’d find you here.”

Feet planted at the bottom of the steps, I cross my arms. “What are you doing here?”

His expression flattens, as if he’s already irritated by my tone. Or maybe disappointed that I’m not welcoming him with open arms. “You haven’t been answering my calls.”

My fingers curl into my palms. “We’re not together. Why should I?” Still, I feel compelled to justify myself. “Besides, I’ve been working.”

He takes me in. The boots, the shorts, the tank top, my hair in a messy ponytail.

“As a farmhand?”

I clench my teeth, biting back a retort.

With a light laugh, he waves a dismissive hand. “I’m just kidding.”

Arms crossed, I give him a flat stare. “You can’t just show up here.”

“I think it’s perfectly reasonable to make sure you’re okay after you disappear to a ranch in the middle of nowhere and start ignoring my calls.”

“After what you did, you absolutely should expect to be ignored.”