44. Holden #3
“Trust me,” I tell her, the words lingering in the air.
Her eyes drift over my face, and my pulse kicks into high gear as she nods. “I do.”
Fighting the urge to close my eyes in relief, I open my door and climb out. Before I reach her side, she has hers open.
Stubborn woman.
The way she grins at me tells me she read my mind loud and clear.
I let her climb down on her own. But I get a little distracted by the way the breeze catches her hair, sunlight glinting off the faint gold strands threaded through the dark.
With a long exhale, I drag my eyes away. “Come on.”
I take her hand again, and with the grass brushing our boots, we make our way toward the rise overlooking the valley.
We stop not far from an old shed that’s been sitting here unused for as long as I can remember. She lifts a hand to shield her eyes from the glare, her attention settling on the valley below.
The creek winds through the pasture below, glinting in the afternoon sun. She’s perfectly still, taking it in, the way she always does when she finds something beautiful.
Like she’s memorizing the moment and tucking it away. Keeping it.
I don’t think she’ll ever know how much I love watching her do that.
“God, it’s beautiful,” she says, the sunlight shimmering in her eyes.
“Wait here for a second,” I tell her, then jog back to the truck and grab the folder out of the back seat.
When I get back to her, my heart is pounding against my ribs like a damn jackhammer.
She tilts her head, a smile of curiosity tipping her lips up.
I hand the folder over to her. “This is for you.”
She gives me a puzzled look before opening it. Her brow furrows as she looks over the first page. Then her lips part, and her eyes flash up to mine.
“A photography studio?”
I grip the back of my neck. “It’s just an idea. Nothing’s set in stone. It doesn’t have to be here. And you can change anything you want. I just…” I’ve never been this nervous before. Not even the first time I got on the back of a bull. “I needed to do something. Show you what’s possible.”
“Holden,” she whispers.
“The old shed’s not worth saving.” I look toward it instead of at her. “Sterling was already talking about tearing it down.”
Head lowered, she looks at the plans, and her fingers tighten on the paper.
A feeling more dangerous than nerves rises in my chest.
Hope.
Then she turns the page and freezes. “What’s this?”
I don’t answer. Can’t. All my fucking hopes and dreams held together by a few lines on a page.
“Holden?” There’s a faint tremor in her voice.
I drag a hand through my hair and stare out across the valley. “It’s just a sketch.”
“Is this a house?”
It’s a home.
But the answer sticks in my throat. This feels a hell of a lot more vulnerable than telling her I loved her.
I exhale. “It’s a someday. If you ever decide you want it.”
I keep my eyes fixed firmly on the mountains. Much safer.
Silence. Long enough that I drag my gaze back.
She’s staring at me, not the plans. And the look in her eyes steals every coherent thought from my head.
“You really thought about this.”
“Yeah.” The word comes out like sandpaper.
Because I did. More than I should have. More than I meant to.
She lowers the plans slowly, her expression shifting. Like she’s seeing something she’s been afraid to believe.
The wind stirs her hair, and a strand catches against her cheek. Before I can stop myself, I reach over and tuck it behind her ear.
The second I touch her, every muscle in my body tightens. Christ. What this woman does to me.
Neither of us moves, neither of us looks away. Then she takes a step closer. Close enough that I can smell her honeysuckle shampoo. Close enough that I can feel the heat of her. Close enough that every sane thought abandons me.
She rests a hand over my heart, and I’m sure she must be able to feel it jolting against her palm. Then she smiles, warm and bright and more beautiful than the damn sunrise. The kind of smile that ruins me every time.
“I love you.” I hold her gaze. “And I’m not asking you for anything. I just don’t want you to ever doubt what I want.”
Her lower lip trembles, and tears glisten on her lashes.
“I am so in love with you, Holden.” Her voice breaks, and she holds up the folder of plans, letting out a watery laugh.
“You got everything right. And I’m not just talking about the studio.
That someday?” She shakes her head. “I think it might be exactly what I want.”
Rising up on her toes, she curls her free hand around the back of my neck.
I don’t hesitate, pulling her against me so I can kiss her properly. The taste of her is fucking heaven, and the little moan she gives has me aching for her.
When I finally let her go, she looks back down at the folder, at our future sketched out on paper between us.
“You know,” she says softly, “for someone who used to be convinced I was leaving, you’ve gotten weirdly close to building me an entire life here.”
A real laugh escapes me then, and I kiss her again.
My future used to be the next rodeo. The next city. The next motel room.
Now it looks like this.