Page 47 of Sunrise & Serenity

Ahead, the sun glints off dust-covered trucks parked in uneven rows around the edge of a busy dirt lot. Pop-up tents flap in the breeze beside a long shed where I assume the auction takes place. The air hums, and even with the windows up, the smell of hay, manure, and smoke from a grill that must be set up nearby is potent.

There’s something almost cinematic about the scene. I pull my camera out of its bag and take a shot through the window.

Holden parks next to the other McBride truck, and we all get out. Everywhere I look, there are faded flannel shirts, sun-browned necks, and cowboy hats. So many cowboy hats. Cattle bellow nearby, their sounds punctuated by the clang of metal gates, while laughter rings out from a nearby concession stand.

I spin in a slow circle, camera raised, capturing the organized chaos, only stopping when Holden grasps my elbow and leans in.

“Most of the excitement’s happening inside, you know.”

The heat of his skin against mine makes my pulse leap. When I wet my suddenly dry lips, his eyes flare in a way that makes me think he might know how his touch affects me.

Just in case he does, I shoot him a wide smile. “Let’s go, then. Wouldn’t want to miss the fun.”

His stare intensifies, then his hand drops away. Before I can register my body’s disappointment at the loss of his warmth, his fingers graze the small of my back, gently urging me toward the shed. “Cattle were auctioned off first thing this morning,” he says. “Before the horses are auctioned off, there’s a demonstration⁠—”

“Kind of like a mini cow-horse competition,” Taryn breaks in.

Holden shakes his head. “Less competition, more evaluation.”

“Close enough,” she says. “This is my favorite part.”

I do my best to focus on the commotion around me, and as we enter the large building, it’s difficult to decide what to look at first. It’s darker inside than I expected, the sunlight filtering through dust-thick air. Wood-plank bleachers line the sides like old church pews, mostly filled with weathered-looking ranchers. In the center, a large rectangle of packed dirt is enclosed by metal rails.

As we move through the crowd, following Holden’s siblings, people subtly shift to make room. Hats are tipped, greetings exchanged—respect, wariness, curiosity. And some of the women are alight with more than a little excitement.

Holden’s gaze stays fixed straight ahead, jaw tight, apparently oblivious to all the attention. Or ignoring it. Though when someone addresses him directly, he acknowledges them with a polite nod.

“Holden. Good to see you back in town.”

“Hope that shoulder’s fixed up.”

“Gonna see you back on the circuit soon, McBride?”

That last one only earns the questioner a tight-lipped smile.

Chance and Sterling have found a vacant spot in the bleachers, and we join them, forced to sit close because of the lack of space. On one side, Taryn is pressed up against me, and on the other, Holden sits so close I can’t breathe without catching the fresh, clean scent of him.

His muscular, denim-clad thigh against my bare one shouldn’t feel as intimate as it does.

Within minutes, a man emerges from the sidelines and strides across to a platform. He has a mic clipped to his collar, so when he speaks, his voice rings out through the shed.

“Okay, ladies and gentlemen. I know y’all are waiting to get this show started. Hold on to your hats, because we’ve got some mighty fine animals to show you today.”

I tilt my head toward Taryn. “What is it you’re looking for?”

“Chance wants to pick up a few horses for our breeding program. Horses with good conformation that can do the work too, not just look pretty. But I’m mostly here to daydream.”

I smile at her. “About what?”

She grins back. “Finding the horse that’s going to make me famous.”

A gate clangs open, and a horse and rider enter the ring. The announcer launches into a description. “Lot twelve. Three-year-old gelding. Started on cattle, good head, easy to handle…”

His words don’t mean much to me. But I can’t take my eyes off the pair as they move up and down the ring at varying speeds.

“They’re checking how the horse carries himself.”

Holden’s low voice in my ear almost startles me. He’s so close that if I were to turn my head a little, my cheek would brush his lips. I swallow, suppressing the ridiculous urge to test that theory.