Page 20 of Fixing to be Mine (Valentine Texas #5)

We move closer, and London spots us. She shoots me a wink as she continues her song.

“Would you like to dance?” Colt asks.

“I don’t dance,” I say.

He holds his hand out to me. “Come on. Because you don’t know how?”

“I know how,” I admit, taking his grasp as he pulls me close to him. I giggle. “I have two left feet. I suck at it.”

“Maybe you had sucky partners?”

His arm slips around my waist, and my body reacts before I can tell it not to.

“Or I’m the common denominator,” I say.

He spins me around and dips me.

“Doubt it,” he mutters, nearly stealing my ability to speak.

We reach the dance area, where couples are already swaying under the string lights.

Colt pulls me closer, and I settle into him, my heart thudding against his chest. We sway together, and I think this is something I could get used to.

The grass beneath our boots is soft, the lights warm above us, and the rest of the world fades away.

We’re so damn close, and I feel his breath on my temple.

I inhale him, and he smells like cedar and clean soap and the kind of safety I don’t let myself want.

I lift my chin enough to meet his gaze, and he’s looking at me like I’m already his.

Like I always have been. And suddenly, I can’t remember what part of this was supposed to be pretend.

I want to kiss him.

I want to feel his lips brush across mine, but I don’t close the space.

I don’t ask for more. It’s not a line I can cross with him, not when I know my time here is slipping away.

Instead, I keep moving, caught in a slow circle under glowing lights, pretending my hands aren’t trembling and my heart isn’t halfway to his already.

“This is right,” he confesses, and I can hear the smile in his voice as he holds me a little tighter.

His words hit harder than I expected. I pull back enough to meet his soft summer-sky-blue eyes, full of adoration.

“I’m glad I’m in Valentine,” I tell him.

The song ends, and he spins me gently, dipping me on the final note.

“Would you like some Valentine in you?” he asks.

I laugh—loud and full and completely unfiltered—as the lights flicker above us and the crowd claps for London. It’s too much and not enough all at once.

“Hilarious.”

With Colt, it’s easy to forget everything waiting for me back home.

We’re still laughing as we wander past the dance floor, hand in hand, the music soft behind us. Colt’s arm is warm against mine, and my body feels too light—like something in me got shaken loose during that dance and hasn’t landed yet.

He glances down at me and gives my hand a squeeze. “Not bad for a girl with two left feet.”

“A good partner makes a difference,” I shoot back.

He leads me down a row of tents, where booths are selling candles, hand-stitched aprons, and homemade jams. Someone waves him over for a raffle ticket. Another woman hands him a flyer for the quilt auction on Monday.

“Oh my God, there you are,” a voice calls from behind us.

We both turn as a blur of denim moves toward us. Fenix.

She skids to a stop in front of us, cheeks flushed, holding a clipboard like she’s on a mission. Her anger from seeing Jace has faded.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Her eyes lock on Colt.

He raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“You, dear brother,” she says with dramatic flair, “must’ve forgotten you volunteered for the Valentine Rodeo Bachelor Auction.”

“I have a girlfriend,” Colt says immediately, already taking a step back. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on. You were a selling point. You’re on the list,” she says. “Backing out is a bitch move.”

I meet his eyes. “She’s right.”

Colt scoffs. “You’re serious? What if I meet the woman of my dreams?”

“Then it was meant to be,” I tell him, hating that idea.

“It’s one evening,” she says. “Only a few hours of light flirting for charity. You’re being auctioned off to help the animal shelter. It’s harmless.”

“Flirting for charity?” I repeat, trying not to laugh.

Fenix winks at me. “You know it.”

Colt sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “This is ridiculous.”

“Community service,” she corrects. “With a spotlight.”

I enjoy their dynamic. It’s cute. I can see how much he cares for her.

“She’s forcing me, and you’re allowing this,” he says, playfully bumping into me.

“It’s for a good cause,” I remind him.

Fenix beams, holding up the clipboard. “You’re up first, big bro.”

“Of course I am.”

She turns on her heel and disappears into the tent, shouting something about checking the microphone.

I turn to Colt, who is watching her go with defeated patience.

“You okay?” I ask, nudging him.

He looks down at me. “I’m getting auctioned off like a prize-winning steer. I’m hanging on by a thread.”

I laugh. “You’ll be fine.”

He narrows his eyes playfully. “You’d better bid on me.”

My heart skips. “Or what?”

“You gonna let someone else take me home?”

The question is teasing, but it lands deep.

“No,” I say quietly, “I’m not.”

I glance toward the stage, where a few men are lining up, all in button-ups, muscles, and fresh jeans.

“Guess I should get goin’,” he says, leading me inside.

The auction tent is packed. People are gathered in rows of folding chairs, drinks in hand, buzzing with anticipation, like this is the main event—and apparently, it is. I had no idea fundraising for an animal shelter could come with so much eyeliner and competitive energy.

Colt’s dragged off by Fenix, and the expression on his face as she shoves him behind the curtain is priceless.

Summer waves me over to a seat near the front, and I slide in beside her. Kinsley’s already on my other side, fanning herself dramatically with a flyer that says Bachelors I’m half worried her face might crack.

“Do I hear one thousand for Colt Valentine?”

A new voice cuts through the noise. “Two thousand.”

It’s not shouted. It doesn’t have to be because the second we all hear it, the entire tent goes quiet.

Colt’s head snaps toward the sound, and I already know who it is before I even turn.

Tessa.

There she is, standing at the edge of the crowd in a white tank top, skinny jeans, and heels that don’t belong anywhere near hay. Her arms are crossed, her chin lifts enough to be condescending, and her eyes are fixed on Colt like she’s claiming something from lost and found.

Whispers ripple around us, and Summer stiffens beside me. Kinsley mutters something under her breath that sounds an awful lot like a threat. Colt’s jaw tightens.

The emcee clears her throat, suddenly flustered. “Uh, do I hear twenty-five hundred?”

Every eye in the tent turns to his ex, who’s smirking like she’s already won.