Page 160 of Lost Trust

No academy.

No students.

No phone calls.

No past.

Just me and Royce.

We ride in silence for about twenty minutes. Then the trees open, and I suck in a breath.

The meadow stretches out before us, green and wild, framed by mountains and overlooking the valley below.

“Oh my God.”

Royce looks at me. “Like it?”

I turn toward him. “Are you kidding me? This place is stunning. If I wasn’t here, seeing it with my own eyes, I’d swear it was a painting.”

He dismounts and walks over to me and Rowdy, and his hands settle around my waist. “I’ve got you.”

He lifts me from the saddle and sets me on the ground. His hands linger on my body, and his eyes drop to my mouth.

My heart stutters.

Then he steps back. “You take a look around. Pick a spot out for us.”

I exhale. “Okay.”

He begins unloading the saddlebags—a blanket, a small cooler, a cast-iron skillet, and a bottle of wine.

“Are those flowers?”

I walk closer. Tucked carefully inside one of the bags is a small bundle of white tulips.

My breath catches. “Trust.”

“Your mom told me they were your favorite.”

I stare at the flowers.

My favorite since I was a girl. Something so small. Something so insignificant. And yet I can’t recall the last time someone bothered to ask or remember what my favorite flower is.

I reach for them. “They’re beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful.”

I look up.

He gives me that crooked grin. The one I used to think was cocky.

I find a shady spot under a big oak tree, and he spreads out the blanket and begins unpacking the food.

Rib eyes?

I stare.

Another one of my favorites.