Page 35 of Sunrise & Serenity

It still feels strange to picture him as the rodeo competitor Taryn mentioned. He seems far too reserved for a man who used to compete in front of thousands of people. Then again, I’m having trouble figuring him out in general. One minute he’s grumpy with me; the next he’s showing up with coffee or opening my truck door. In fact, if it weren’t for his broody, whiplash personality, he’d make someone an excellent boyfriend.

Or maybe I’m the only one who gets the Jekyll-and-Hyde version.

Just like yesterday, the beauty of the landscape and the cool, fresh air swirling into the cab as we drive invigorate me. Holden stays quiet, and I don’t feel the need to break the silence. It gives me space to absorb it all. I hold my hand out the window, smiling as I spread my fingers and let the wind stream between them.

What must it have been like to grow up in a place like this? To live and play on this land, surrounded by a large, boisterous family rather than being an only child in a house that always felt too quiet?

The truck slows, pulling me from my thoughts. Holden turns off the road and eases to a stop. “The start of the trail is a short walk from here.”

Once I’ve hopped out, I loop the strap of my sling bag across my chest, slide it to my left hip for easy access to my gear while we hike, and hang my camera around my neck.

Holden opens the back door on the driver’s side and hefts a backpack out. “Water bottles,” he says when he catches me looking.

I guess I should have thought of that myself.

He shrugs the bag onto his broad shoulders, then strides off. This time, though, he sets a slower pace to begin with, so I don’t have to struggle to keep up.

After passing a stand of trees, we come to a dirt and gravel track. Its wooden sign reads Crestview Trail.

“This is one of the easier ones,” Holden tells me. “Good for beginners.”

“Are you talking about the guests or me?”

“Yep.”

I put one hand on my hip. “What kind of answer is that?”

He turns away, but not before I catch the way the corners of his mouth twitch up. Clearly, he’s amused himself.

I press my lips together to hide my own smile, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing it.

As we walk, I snap photos of the wildflowers nodding on either side of the trail and the early-morning sunlight filtering through the trees. I don’t worry too much about framing for now. I’m just enjoying myself.

“It feels untouched,” I murmur.

“It mostly is. No one comes out here much anymore.”

“Anymore?”

He doesn’t bother replying to my implied question.

Setting that aside for later, I keep moving. But a few minutes later, as I pause to capture a particularly pretty scene, Holden grips my shoulder. “Keep quiet,” he murmurs, turning me toward the trees.

He steps in close behind me and dips his head, so his mouth is close to my ear. “See over there?” The warmth of his breath sends goose bumps rippling over my skin.

Trying to ignore my body’s reaction to his proximity, I peer through the branches, eventually focusing on a small clearing.

I draw in a breath. In the middle of the clearing, a deer similar to the one that jumped in front of my car two nights ago stares in our direction, its big ears angled toward us.

By its hind legs is a tiny dappled fawn, curled up asleep on the ground.

The momma deer looks poised to leap into motion at any moment, but when we don’t move or make another sound, she drops her head and nibbles at the grass.

I’m entranced. My hands itch to raise my camera and take a photo, but I don’t want to scare them off. So I watch.

But even with nature’s beauty right in front of me, it’s hard to ignore how Holden’s hands are curled around my upper arms and how he’s standing so close behind me that my shoulder blades graze his chest and my ass is nestled against his hard thighs. My heart rate picks up, and my breathing quickens. Given how quiet we’re being, I hope he can’t hear it.

After a few more seconds of silence, one of Holden’s thumbs brushes up and down my arm. It’s a small motion, tiny, really, and it shouldn’t make a breath shudder out of me the way it does. That single noise in the peace of the moment is enough to alert the momma deer.