Page 54 of Sunrise & Serenity

“Small towns.” His tone is mild, but there’s a thread of tension there too.

“So it’s true?”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t offer anything else, so I babble on. “It’s funny, if Taryn hadn’t told me you used to compete in rodeo, I would’ve thought this is where you’d always been. It’s hard to picture you anywhere else.”

He tilts his head to the side. “Why’s that?”

I blow out a breath. “I mean, I’m sure you were an excellent bull rider. You seem like the type of person who’s good at whatever you put your mind to. But I don’t know, I always imagine the rodeo as bright lights and noise and adrenaline, and, uh, buckle bunnies. That just doesn’t feel like you, especially when you fit in so well here, surrounded by nature.”

“You’ve never been to an actual rodeo, have you?”

“No. But I’ve watched The Longest Ride. Does that count?”

“No, it doesn’t count.” His tone is dry. “There’s more to rodeo than bright lights, adrenaline, and buckle bunnies. The rush is addictive, obviously, but the training, the traveling, the people you meet. It’s absorbing. It becomes your life.”

“Until it’s not anymore,” I say quietly.

He shifts in his chair, muscles flexing, as if I’ve pushed my luck and he’s about to get up and leave. Instead, he rests his elbows on the armrests and says, “My turn, then?”

“I guess so. Though I feel like I wasted my turn, since you just confirmed what I was already told.”

A tiny smirk touches his mouth. “Should have chosen a different question.”

I scrunch my nose at him, unsure whether to be pleased we’re talking or nervous that this is the game we’ve ended up playing. “Fine. Your turn.”

“What questionable decisions have you made?”

And here I was, hoping he’d forgotten. I bite my lip, considering which details to reveal. “Dating someone I shouldn’t have dated. Trusting someone I shouldn’t have trusted.”

“Same person or different?”

I let out a small laugh. “The same, and that was a bonus answer. So here’s my question: What do you miss the most about the rodeo?”

His gaze drops for a beat, fingers lacing together before he locks eyes with me. “Those few seconds before the gate opens. The instant between one heartbeat and the next, when everything goes silent and it’s like the whole damn world’s holding its breath. It’s the most clear-headed I’ve ever felt. Everything else falls away—doubt, fear, guilt. All of it. For those few seconds, the world makes sense. Then the bell rings.”

I’m listening so intently that a breath escapes me when he finishes. “What happens then?”

He sits back in his chair. “Uh-uh, City. You have my answer. Who was he, and why shouldn’t you have dated him?”

“That’s a double question.” My voice comes out a little weak.

“Okay. What was wrong with the guy you shouldn’t have dated?”

“I’m starting to think this was a mistake.” I fiddle with the hem of my top. “I guess you could say he was my mentor.”

Holden’s big body stills, but I put up my hand. “It was after I graduated, and there weren’t any rules against it. But I should have known better than to get involved with someone connected to my work. I took him at his word when he said he saw something special in me—in my photography. It felt like he believed in me more than anyone ever had. I wanted it to be true so badly that I ignored all the warning signs.”

“What did he do?” There’s a hard edge to his voice I’ve only heard once before—when that man jostled me at the auction.

I cross my arms over my stomach. “It’s more like what I allowed him to do.”

He’s on his feet and in front of me faster than I thought someone his size could move. Heat from his bare chest practically rolls off him. “Don’t say that.” His voice is low and rough. “You trusted him, and if he took advantage of that, it’s on him, not you.”

My arms fall to my sides, my heart drumming against my sternum, as I stare up at him.

How do I explain that when Graham singled me out in college, I was beyond flattered? Or that when he actively pursued me, I let myself be swept away? I gave up my own plans with barely a protest because I believed he knew better than I did. Every exhibition, every series, every opportunity became another chance to prove to him—to everyone—that he’d been right about me.