Page 9 of Sunrise & Serenity

Luckily, apart from a little tenderness, my hands seem fine. The same can’t be said of my still-stinging knees. I scrunch my nose at the specks of blood that have already seeped through my skirt.

“Colorado, two; Sage, zero.” I force out a small laugh. Then, realizing my hands are still in Holden’s, I quickly pull them back.

He eyes me a little warily. “You should be more careful.”

“Thanks, Doctor Sunshine. I’ll try harder not to face-plant next time.”

He grunts, then nods at the cabin. “Let’s go inside, and I’ll take care of your knees.”

“I told you; I’m okay.”

He quirks a dark brow. “Yeah, you sure look like you’re doing okay so far.”

I glare at him. “You are the most—ugh.” Spinning, I go for the handle of the truck’s back door. I just want to get my stuff and get away from him.

But he stops me with a hand on my arm. “I’ll get these. Go inside.”

Too tired and irritated to argue, I stomp toward the cabin, ignoring the way my knees smart as I climb the steps and wait for him by the front door.

Holden is apparently intent on proving what a man he is by carrying my two suitcases in one hand and my laptop and accessories bag in the other, with my camera bag slung across his chest.

I guess cowboys aren’t into making multiple trips either.

Instead of putting my bags down and pulling out a key, he jerks his chin toward the door. “You mind?”

I blink. It’s not locked?

The handle turns easily, and the door swings open. Well, what do you know? Clearly, I’m not in New York anymore. No one I know would dream of leaving their house or apartment unlocked. Holden waits until I enter first, even though he’s carrying all the bags. As if he’s some kind of gentleman in disguise.

I fumble for a light switch, and when the light flicks on, I move deeper inside. It’s a little stuffy after being shut up, but fresh, rain-scented air from outside is already beginning to fill the space. I turn slowly, taking it in, and my heart skips a little.

The main room has a stone fireplace, a squishy-looking leather couch, and a television to the left. To the right is a kitchenette with a small table and chairs. The furniture is mismatched but solid, and a metal reading lamp sits at one end of the couch. A partially open door at the back of the room reveals the corner of a patchwork quilt-covered bed.

It’s quaint and homey and kind of perfect.

I smile at Holden. “I love it.”

“That’s good.” Without another word, he moves past me to the bedroom and places my bags on the bed.

Shaking my head, I turn away from him and run my fingers over the soft, well-worn leather of the couch, then the cool stone of the fireplace mantel. Footsteps from behind make me turn. He holds up a small first-aid kit.

“Let’s get this done.”

“Where did you find that?” I ask as I take a seat on the couch.

He sets it on the coffee table and pops it open without looking at me. “Every cabin has one under the bathroom sink.”

“Good to know,” I murmur as he sits beside me.

Deep blue eyes, fringed by lashes as dark as his hair, meet mine. “I might need to replace yours with a bigger one.”

I blink at him. Did he just make a joke?

He looks away before I can respond, pulling an alcohol wipe from the supplies in front of us. “Can you pull up your skirt?”

The question makes my cheeks heat, even though he obviously doesn’t mean anything by it.

I gather my still-damp skirt and pull it up to reveal the grazes on my knees. When he lightly touches the side of my leg, I do my best to ignore the warmth of his skin against mine. It’s a ridiculous reaction to have toward a man I’ve only just met, who’s already decided he doesn’t like me.