Page 2 of Fixing to be Mine (Valentine Texas #5)

CHAPTER TWO

COLT

I t’s just past eight, and already, I’ve got that feeling in my chest, like my day’s about to turn into something I didn’t plan for.

It bubbles under the surface. After scarfing down a hearty breakfast at the diner on Main, I swing by my twin sister, Remi’s, place.

Now that she and the love of her life, Dr. Cash Johnson, are renting one of my properties in town, I don’t feel bad about dropping in unannounced, even if it pesters them. That’s how it is around here.

In a family of ten, it’s easy to get drowned out, but not when you’re a twin. Remi and I have always found each other in the chaos. Not to mention, the attention was always on us because our parents loved to dress us the same.

I take the porch steps two at a time, grinning as I catch sight of them through the window. They’re chatting in the kitchen like they don’t have a care in the world. With a smile planted on my face, I knock on the door.

When Remi opens it, I’m already wearing a cocky smile. “Good morning, sunshine. Did you have fun last night?”

She gives me a look like I’m three cups of coffee too enthusiastic. My sister is still in her pajamas, bare feet, and I doubt she’s taken her first sip of caffeine yet.

“Are you gonna invite me in?” I ask, giving her the full once-over.

“No,” she deadpans.

Before the knob can catch, I move my boot forward and hold the door open. “I’m coming in. Sorry to bother the newlyweds, but Mom told me to tell you that dinner is on Thursday.”

Her expression twists into disbelief. “You came here to tell me that?” she asks, even though she already knows.

The truth is, I’ve missed her company.

“Yep, and to share with you that I think I might’ve figured out what happened with Fenix,” I say, wandering toward the kitchen, where her husband, Cash, is standing.

He gives me a head nod like me being here is normal. It is.

“Seriously?” Remi crosses her arms, tilting her head.

The two of us have made it our mission to understand what happened to Fenix. If someone hurt her, I will fuck them up. No one messes with our little sisters.

Fenix is almost six years younger than us.

Her ditching her full-ride scholarship, quitting the equestrian team cold, then showing up on our parents’ porch with nothing but a packed car and silence has been a mystery.

She recently finished her degree online and is living at home with our parents and my youngest sister, Vera.

None of us know why she left college, and every time I ask, she shuts me down. I want to know she’s okay.

“Yeah, it had to do with??—”

A sharp knock cuts me off, and the three of us glance toward the front door.

Someone presses their face against the frosted glass, but it’s too cloudy to see clearly.

“Answer it,” I say, grabbing myself a mug like I live there too.

Cash smirks, not saying much. He’s not a morning person though, so it doesn’t surprise me that he’s quiet. She opens the door, and suddenly, the air changes.

A woman stands on the porch—dark-haired, green-eyed, and so completely out of place that it feels like the universe is playing a trick on me. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but she’s got this way of holding herself like she’s built from stone.

“Oh, um … one second,” Remi says, then pivots and shoots me a glare I know all too well. “A gorgeous woman is searching for you.”

I laugh, skeptical. “I’m not falling for that.”

“I’m serious,” she insists.

Cash raises his brows at me like, Good luck, buddy .

“I’m telling the truth.” Remi sighs and turns back to the doorway. “Would you like to come in?”

The woman steps inside, a little taller than Remi, with a cute nose that upturns at the end and lips that beg to be stared at. When her sparkling eyes meet mine, the whole damn room shifts. The air completely evaporates, and gravity tugs at us a little harder.

“Now, who are you searching for?” Remi asks, giving me a cocky-as-fuck told you so expression.

The woman’s gaze locks on me. “Are you Colt Valentine?” Her voice is soft, smooth, and, holy hell, something about her sends a jolt straight through me.

The coffee mug slips from my fingers, crashing to the floor like the second half of a thought I never finished.

“Darlin’, I’ll be anyone you want me to be.”

Remi’s brows furrow as she mouths, Be cool , like I’m not already unraveling.

Cash chuckles low, quietly cleaning up the pieces of my broken mug while I step past him, drawn to her like a damn magnet.

She’s even prettier up close—with brown hair with a dash of red; green eyes, sharp enough to cut clean through a man; and lips I can already imagine tasting.

She chews on the bottom one like she’s nervous, but her eyes? They don’t flinch.

“How can I help you?” I ask, voice controlled.

She lifts her hand, holding a folded sheet of paper. “I saw you had a listing for this house online. I’m searching for a place.”

I glance at Remi, then back at her. Damn timing.

“Sorry, I rented it to my sister and her hubby. Happened last week.”

Her shoulders drop a little. Disappointment flashes in her eyes.

“Oh, do you have anything else? The lady at the grocery store said you had several properties.”

I shake my head, the truth landing heavier than I thought it would. She looks away first, breaking the tension between us, but it still lingers like static. I wasn’t ready to meet her.

“Okay. Sorry to bother you.”

She gives a polite smile and turns, walking out the door like she didn’t gut-punch me with her presence. The screen door snaps closed behind her, and I’m frozen there like a damn idiot.

“What are you doing? Go get her number,” Remi urges. “She might still be in town after we move out of here in November.”

It snaps me into motion. “Oh fuck, right.”

I rush through the front door and off the porch, spotting her already opening the door to a vintage black Camaro convertible—mid-’90s and well kept, like it should be on display somewhere. It has a mountain of dust caked on it and looks like it’s seen much better days.

“Damn, nice car.”

She slides in without looking at me, turns the key. The engine rumbles like it’s angry.

“Wait,” I say, stepping closer.

She rolls down the window, and I lean against her door, trying not to look desperate.

“Give me your number.”

She eyes me like she’s trying to decide if I’m worth the trouble. I fucking am.

“If something becomes available, I’ll call you,” I add.

She grabs the flyer that came from the grocery store bulletin board and pulls a pen from the middle console, uncapping it with her teeth. The sight does something stupid to my insides. She scribbles her name and number on it. Our eyes meet again as she hands it over.

I glance down at her name.

“ Sunny ,” I mutter, letting a slow grin spread.

“Bye, Colt Valentine,” she says, like she’s not afraid of a damn thing.

“I don’t believe in goodbyes, darlin’.”

“Southerners,” she mutters and rolls the window up, giving me a cocky smile before backing out of the driveway.

Dust kicks up and leaves something heavy in her wake. I stand there, arms crossed, grinning like a fool in love.

From behind me, the front door creaks open.

“Ahem,” my sister grumbles. “Are you okay?”

“I think I just met my wife,” I tell her, still watching the road with my hand held over my heart.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You might eat them words when I marry that woman,” I say, returning to the porch with a pep to my step.

Remi stands tall like a damn security guard, arms crossed, eyes narrowed—classic twin-sister mode. She’s got that stubborn Valentine woman stance locked and loaded, and I already know I’m not winning whatever argument is about to start.

“Oh, so I’m not invited back inside to finish my coffee?”

“Nah,” she says, shaking her head like I’ve officially lost my mind.

I stare at her for a beat, then glance back at the empty stretch of road Sunny disappeared down. There’s a hitch in my chest I don’t know what to do with.

“You have the haunted house you’ve been renovating. Let her stay there.”

“I live there,” I tell her, like she doesn’t already know that.

She blinks. “Maybe it’s time you got a roommate. Company would be good for you.”

I raise a brow. “That’s ridiculous. Who in their right mind would want to stay there?”

“You.” She shrugs casually. “You’re such a chicken. She didn’t seem like she was that into you anyway. And I know for a fact that she won’t find anything else in Valentine ’cause I’ve looked. Now, you need to run along. I’m gonna have a quiet breakfast with my hubby. If you don’t mind.”

I glance behind her, at the life she’s building that somehow came together like it was meant to. For half a second, I wonder if I’ll ever have that too.

“Fine. Don’t be late for dinner on Thursday,” I mutter, stepping off the porch, keys spinning around my finger like I’ve still got control of this situation.

“Text her,” she calls out, slamming the door before I can shoot back a word.

As I walk to my truck, I stare at the paper still in my grasp.

Sunny.

Even her handwriting is pretty. My fingers curl around the flyer like it might burn me if I’m not careful.

I shove it in the glove box and then continue to the grocery store to grab food for the week.

As I push the buggy down each aisle, my boots shuffle across the floor, and I think about running into her again.

The thought of her has me so damn distracted that I don’t even remember checking out.

Once I’m home, I kill the engine and sit for a second in the quiet.

The two-story farmhouse stares back at me.

It looks worn down, chipped, and tired, but I see what it’s gonna be.

It was built in the 1800s and has a wraparound porch and sits on ten acres of land that feels like peace, no matter the time of day.

She was abandoned back in ’95, but her bones are solid.

These walls hold stories, and it’s my only project right now.