Page 187 of Sunrise & Serenity

His arms tighten around me. “I’ve been very patient.”

I laugh so hard I nearly spill my coffee. “That’s not remotely true.”

“No?”

“No.”

He lowers his head, his mouth brushing my temple, soft and warm. “No, sweetheart. It’s definitely true.”

My heart does that familiar stupid stumble.

Apparently, in all this time, it’s learned absolutely nothing.

My new studio smells like coffee and fresh timber. Sunlight spills through the tall windows, reflecting off the photos lining the wall. A smaller version of the lodge photo wall. Only this one is more personal.

Trouble racing across the pasture on long legs. Taryn laughing with her head thrown back. Holden leaning against a fence, sunlight catching the blue of his eyes beneath the brim of his hat.

My life.

My story.

I set my camera bag down. My first photography workshop starts tomorrow. Six guests. Sold out. I still haven’t wrapped my head around that.

There was a time when I thought success looked like a gallery opening in New York. Or a recommendation from the right person. Or finally hearing my parents tell me they were proud of me.

Turns out, real success feels a lot quieter than that.

Serenity settles over me as I look around the space—my space. Not because my life is perfect. Life never is. It’s messy and complicated and all the more beautiful because of it.

I feel him enter the studio before I hear him, and when I turn, he’s leaning against the doorframe.

His gaze drifts over me. Unhurried. Completely unashamed. The look has heat flickering to life low in my stomach. “You’re staring.”

“Yep.”

I laugh a little breathlessly. Some things never change.

He pushes away from the doorway and crosses the room. The second he’s close enough, his hand rests on my lower back. Like touching me is second nature. Maybe it is.

My body certainly reacts like it is.

His focus drops briefly to my mouth, then comes back up.

My pulse trips over itself. “Definitely staring.”

“Occupational hazard.”

“Of what?”

“Living with you.”

The answer sends warmth rushing through me. Months later, I still haven’t figured out what to do with the fact that this man loves me.

Not just loves me, but chooses me every day.

The faint lines around his eyes are from smiling now, not from carrying the weight of things he never talked about. Sometimes I catch him laughing with Chance or arguing with River and Quinn about fence repairs, and it hits me anew how different he is from the man who rescued me from a storm that first night.

Lately, he’s been spending more time helping the younger hands, and it’s not unusual to catch him and Sterling talking late into the evening about where the ranch could be in five or ten years. These days, Sterling leans on him more than anyone else. The first time I caught the two of them discussing budgets, I nearly fell over.