Page 74 of Sunrise & Serenity

I exhale through my nose and shift, forcing the gate up another inch. The hinge slides into place with a dull clank.

“Hold it,” he instructs, reaching for the bolt.

“Not planning to let go,” I mutter.

Chance crouches near the base, tightening the lower bracket. He glances up, and I know he clocks it, the way I’m favoring one side just a bit.

“You good?” he asks.

I focus on the gate. “Yeah.”

I can sense his gaze still on me for a beat before he goes back to the bracket. The thing is, it’s not the pain that bothers me. It’s that it used to be easier. All of this, even working with my brothers, used to be easier.

The gate settles a fraction as Sterling secures the top hinge. “That’ll do.”

I ease my grip and step back before the strain has a chance to linger. The gate holds, and I flex my hand once, then reach for the tools like nothing happened.

Chance straightens, wiping his palms on his jeans.

We’ve been out here for an hour, repairing the fence, and all three of us have stripped off our shirts in the summer sun. We could have asked some of the hands to do it, but I get the feeling we were all in need of getting a little dirty. Especially Sterling, who these days spends far more time in front of a computer than I think he’d like, coordinating ranch hands and contractors and everything else it takes to keep thirty thousand acres running while keeping the expansion on track.

But even with the hard physical work, my mind keeps going where it shouldn’t.

The feel of Sage’s body against mine, the taste of her mouth, the heat that burned through me when she wrapped her leg around my hips and ground herself against me.

I can’t get it out of my head.

The other night, I let my frustration get the better of me and did something I had no business doing, believing it would make her think twice. It was ridiculous, just like she said. Who am I to tell her who she can sleep with?

Except the thought of her going home with Cash, of him peeling that dress off her and getting to touch her silky skin, riled me up in a way I haven’t experienced in a long time.

“You’ve been quiet all morning, and now you’re scowling at the gate like it’s insulted you.” Chance, always too damn perceptive, scrutinizes me again. “Still recovering from Friday night? You only had a couple of beers.”

“What happened Friday night?” Sterling asks, wiping sweat from his brow with his forearm.

I glare at Chance, daring him to comment on my behavior.

He merely smirks. “Holden made a rare appearance at the Silver Pony, drank a few beers, then whisked Sage away.”

“And Taryn,” I point out. “She was tired.”

“Uh-huh,” he murmurs, rubbing his jaw against his shoulder. “After the way you stormed back from the dance floor, looking like you were about to explode, she probably wanted to get you out of there before you got into a fight.”

I snort. “I don’t fight.”

“Never had a reason to, I imagine,” he says.

Sterling examines me, brows pulled low. “Who were you going to fight?”

“No one.” I turn my back on them and squat, picking up the tools lying on the ground. I’ve spent all morning trying to get Sage out of my head. The last thing I need is them making it more difficult than it already is.

When I picked her up, I thought she might bring up Friday night. Hell, part of me wanted her to so I could apologize. Or maybe so I could tell her I didn’t regret it. Or maybe so I could tell her I wanted more.

Damned if I know.

Her expression wasn’t closed off. But it was different from what I’m used to. Until I held out her coffee, that is. Giving it to her and watching her light up has become a habit I can’t—or won’t—break.

Her lips softened into a smile. “Thanks.”