Page 17 of Fixing to be Mine (Valentine Texas #5)

CHAPTER TWELVE

COLT

A nother day of working beside Sunny. One less day I’ll get to spend with her before she leaves.

I’ve hand-sanded this same damn section of baseboard three times. Partly because I want it smooth so it’s easier to paint, but mostly because I can’t stop glancing at her.

Sunny’s crouched on the floor at the other end of the hallway, barefoot, covered in specks of white paint.

She’s wearing a sports bra and the shortest pair of cutoffs I’ve ever seen.

Her hair’s piled on top of her head in a messy knot, and she’s humming along to the playlist she created on my phone. And right now, I am not okay.

The house is warm today; the air conditioner seems to be struggling. So, we opened the windows, along with the front and back door, so a draft would blow through. Box fans are running, but sweat still clings to the back of my neck. Even so, this Texas heat ain’t nothing compared to her.

She’s on her knees, bent forward slightly, while she smooths a bead of caulk across the baseboards like she’s done it a hundred times. My girl is a natural at renovations, and she strives for perfection.

She’s completely unbothered by the fact that I’m hanging on by a thread over here. I shift my grip on the sandpaper and try not to steal a peek again, but I fail miserably.

This time, she glances over, catches me staring, and lifts an eyebrow like she’s half amused.

“You okay, cowboy?”

I blink. “Yeah. Just checking your … lines .”

Curves.

She stands and stretches her arms overhead, spine arching just enough to make me forget what words are. I see her flat stomach and her cute little belly button.

Must. Stop. Staring.

“You’ve gone quiet on me,” she says, reaching to grab more painter’s tape. “Makes a girl wonder if she’s doing something wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” I mutter. “You’re just extremely distracting.”

She grins like she’s satisfied. “Not my fault.”

“Oh, please. It’s definitely your fault.”

“It’s a burden,” she says, batting her eyes at me.

It’s the words I told her a few mornings ago when she couldn’t stop staring at me. The attraction swirling between us is explosive and undeniable.

I go back to sanding more baseboards with a little more focus than necessary, hoping like hell she can’t see the effect she’s having on me.

But judging by the smirk she’s wearing, she knows, and she’s enjoying it.

We work like that for a while—me sanding then hanging, her caulking and painting.

It should feel like a task, but doesn’t.

It feels like teamwork, and we’re building something together, even if neither of us knows what that is.

When she passes behind me, her shoulder brushes mine.

She doesn’t move away fast, but neither do I.

Eventually, she returns to where she was working. Sunlight streams across her thighs, and I glance away before I do something stupid, like drop to my knees, place my palms on her cheeks, and kiss her.

I never expected the hand-holding, family dinners, or small-town smoke and mirrors. I didn’t expect to memorize the curve of her back while she helped to paint my hallway or to have her enjoy this place like it was more than just a detour.

She’s going to ruin me if I’m not careful. Truth is, I’m okay with it.

We take a break in the late afternoon when the sun has turned mean and the hallway smells like paint and pinewood and whatever magic lives in her shampoo.

I grab two bottles of water from the fridge.

Sunny’s already sitting on the floor, her back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of her, which are speckled with dried paint.

I hand her one.

“Are you always this intense?” she asks.

I sit down across from her, wiping sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. “Only around pretty girls.”

She smiles as she takes a long sip, the water bottle pressed against her lower lip. My eyes flick there for half a second too long. She doesn’t miss it.

“Is this where I apologize for the shorts?” she teases.

“No,” I say, my voice rougher than I meant it to be. “This is where I try not to ask you to wear them every day.”

She laughs, light and easy, but when she leans her head back against the wall, the expression on her face shifts into something quieter. “This is the most I’ve smiled in months,” she says softly. “It feels good.”

I nod. “Looks good too.”

She glances around the room, eyes landing on the unfinished trim, the paint rollers, and the boxes of screws that are lying around. We sit in the stillness for a few moments. The hum of the fans and the chirp of cicadas outside fill the space where words don’t need to be.

“I never thought I’d enjoy building something that wasn’t mine.”

I follow her gaze. “It could be yours.”

She blinks slowly. “What?”

“I’m taking wife applications.” I rest my arm on my bent knee, watching her. The mood grows serious. “This house was never only about finishing a project. I’m fixing it up for a future I wasn’t sure I’d ever have. One I only imagined was possible,” I admit.

She doesn’t speak, only watches me like I’m saying something that wasn’t to be said out loud, but I don’t care.

I glance away, my voice a little quieter now.

“I told myself that if I built a strong foundation and became the best version of myself possible, the right woman would show up.” I feel as if I’ve said too much, gotten too deep, so I add, “And if she didn’t …

at least I’d have a damn good porch to sit on, alone.

“No one else in my life can see what this house will be one day. Just you.”

The sunlight shifts through the open door, casting long golden lines across the floor. It lands on her knees, then across her collarbone, lighting her up like a promise.

She lifts her water but doesn’t drink from it. Her eyes are still on me.

“I see it,” she says. “The hardwood floors, high ceilings, large windows, and open space.” She smiles like she’s imagining it. “It will be beautiful.”

“It already is,” I say, not taking my eyes from her.

For a minute, neither of us moves.

I clear my throat. “We should pick up our mess, then get ready to go. Kinsley said she’s gonna drop off some clothes for ya,” I explain as I pick up the paint trays and brushes.

“Great. I’m excited to attend my first rodeo,” she says.

“Lookin’ forward to it,” I tell her.

Sunny disappears down the hall to take a shower, and I wipe down the counters and try not to think too hard about her being just one door away, wet and naked.

I fail miserably.

As I finish cleaning up, sweeping the hallway, I hear a car pull up. A moment later, the screen door creaks open, and there’s a light knock.

“Coming!” I call out, leaning the broom against the wall.

“Delivery service, Southern edition,” she singsongs. “I expect a tip!”

I meet her at the door. She’s in cutoff overalls, flip-flops, and sunglasses that are way too big for her face. In her hand is a huge canvas bag that’s been packed with enthusiasm rather than logic because clothes are hanging out of the top.

“You said one outfit. This is your closet,” I say, taking it from her.

“Options are important.” She winks, then props a hand on her hip. “I’m waiting for my thank-you.”

“Thank you,” I tell her. “Thanks for saving the day.”

“Where is she?” Kinsley glances past me.

“In the shower,” I explain.

Kinsley raises her eyebrows. “And you’re standing here, talking to me, instead of joining her?”

“Jesus, Kins.”

“What?” she says, laughing. “I’m just saying, if someone I was mutually attracted to was showering under my roof, I wouldn’t be standing around, talking to you.”

“It’s not …” I pause because I don’t know how to finish that sentence anymore. “It’s not like that.”

Kinsley narrows her eyes like she’s reading the truth straight off my face. “You’re adorable and in denial.”

“I’m not. Want to come in?” I ask.

“Thought you’d never ask.” My sister steps inside, amazed. She doesn’t stop smiling as she enters the living room. “I pulled your tarot last night.”

“I said I didn’t want to know,” I groan, hoping Sunny can’t hear this ridiculous conversation.

“Come on. Don’t be a sourpuss. Appease me.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Fine.”

She steps in front of me, glowing. “The Tower. Total upheaval. You built your whole life one way, and then something—or someone—knocks it flat. Present card? The Moon. Confusion, hidden feelings, resisting what’s obvious.

Basically, you’re lying to yourself, and it’s not even subtle.

” She holds out her hand like this is case in point.

“And your future position?” She pauses dramatically.

“The Ace of Cups. A new emotional beginning. Big, romantic energy. Like life-altering love kind of stuff.”

She grabs my arms and shakes me with excitement. “I’m so happy for you right now! Ahh!”

“None of that means anything. You know that, right?” I lift my brow.

She pokes her finger into my chest. “You’ll eat those words, little brother. The cards don’t lie.”

The water turns off, and Kinsley waggles her brows at me.

“Thanks for the clothes.”

“Anytime,” she says over her shoulder. “Tell Sunny the sparkly boots are from Summer. She said no girlfriend of yours is showing up to the rodeo in ballerina flats.

“You’ve done a damn good job in here. Can’t wait to see it finished.”

“Me too. Thanks, sis,” I say, and she gives me a hug before pulling away.

I walk her out, standing on the porch as she moves to her truck. “Now, how about you marry her? Give me some nieces and nephews?”

“Maybe I will,” I say under my breath as my sister drives off.

She gives me two quick honks, and then she’s out of sight.

As soon as I return inside, the bathroom door creaks open, and Sunny steps into the hallway.

A fluffy towel is wrapped around her body, and another one is twisted on her head. She’s barefoot, glowing, and not aware she’s about to ruin me. Or maybe she is.

Her eyes land on the bag in my hand.