Page 25 of Fixing to be Mine (Valentine Texas #5)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
STORMY
T he gravel crunches beneath our boots as we walk across the parking lot to the front of the shelter. I swing the bag of money in my hand like it’s laundry and not twenty grand. It’s just money, and I genuinely love giving it away, especially to a good cause.
The building is small but clean, with flowerpots lining the windowsills.
A bulletin board is near the entrance, covered in laminated flyers of lost pets and photos of animals available for adoption.
A handwritten sign taped to the glass door reads in big red letters: The first weekend of the rodeo auction broke all records!
Colt holds the door open for me, and the blast of cool air makes me realize how hot it is outside.
I might be getting used to this heat. Inside smells like dog shampoo, floor cleaner, and something warm and comforting, like sugar cookies.
A candle flickers on the countertop. The receptionist’s head pops up from behind the desk, her smile wide and immediate.
“Well, lookie who the dog dragged in,” she says in a thick Southern accent.
She’s older, very cheerful, with a bright smile, and bleached-blonde hair.
Her name tag says Jenny. “It’s Mr. Valentine and the woman who nearly gave the entire town a heart attack last night.
Everyone’s still talkin’ ’bout that—and may be until the end of time.
Honey, I hope he gives you the date of your life. ”
I chuckle.
“Oh, I’ll make it worth every damn penny. That’s a Valentine guarantee.” Colt rests his hand on the small of my back, and the simple touch has me buzzing.
“Thought I’d stop by and fulfill my obligation,” I explain, lifting the bag onto the counter.
Jenny raises both of her penciled-on eyebrows. “Sweetie, you don’t have a money order or a check? This is a lot for me to be carryin’ to the bank.”
“No, ma’am,” Colt replies, fighting a smile. “Never heard anyone complain about cold, hard cash. What’s this world comin’ to?”
He’s being playful, and I love it.
Another woman, who’s taller and younger, wearing a Valentine Animal Shelter T-shirt, emerges from the back room. Her eyes widen at the stacks of money. When she sees me, she smiles wide, like I’m an old friend.
Jenny fans herself with a manila folder. “Ember, come help me, please. I think I’m having a hot flash.”
As they count the donation, Ember chats freely. “You have no idea how much this will help us. It’s very generous of ya. Everyone round here is sayin’ you’re some sorta heiress or something. Maybe a princess.”
I freeze for half a second, then nervously laugh. Colt notices my unease, even though I believed I was a professional at hiding it. The subtle shift of his thumb brushing once over my back is enough to let me know he’s still right here.
“No comment,” I say lightly, trying to be playful. “But if I were a princess, I probably wouldn’t stay in an unfinished house with questionable central air.”
Jenny laughs. “Well, regardless of what you are or aren’t, we’re thrilled you’re here either way. Now, do y’all want to take a picture for our monthly newsletter? It’s optional, but I warn you, if we don’t get one, Mavis will track you down. She takes her manager job very seriously.”
“We’ll take our chances.” Colt leans against the counter, adjusting his baseball hat, like he’s done this a thousand times. “Mrs. Mavis will have to get over it. Don’t want to distract from the real stars in this place—the animals.”
“She’ll call your mama,” Jenny warns.
“Call her,” Colt says back.
“Oh, while you’re here,” Ember says to Colt, rushing down the hallway.
The door in the back opens, and before I can say anything, something soft and wet brushes against the back of my calf. I turn around and see a Border collie mix with oversize paws and caramel eyes, wagging his tail like we’ve been friends forever.
“Boots,” Colt says with a grin, crouching to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “How ya been, buddy?”
The pup leans into the affection, his little nub of a tail wagging, happy as can be.
I kneel beside them and rub under his chin as he tries to lick me. “You’re so cute.”
“Agreed,” Colt says.
When I glance at him, he’s not talking about Boots; he’s focused on me.
“I’d adopt him, but I promised myself no more animals until the house was finished,” Colt explains. “The horses are enough to handle for now.”
Boots licks my face.
“Guess we’d better get to work before this guy gets adopted?”
“Guess we’d better,” he tells me, then hugs Boots. “If it’s meant to be, you’ll still be here when I’m ready.”
Jenny and Ember watch us, and after we sign a few pieces of paper for tax purposes, we’re sent on our way with hugs from both. I’m happy with my decision to donate twenty thousand dollars. Hell, I might give them the rest of the cash I have in my trunk.
“Coffee?” Colt asks as we pull out onto Main Street.
He cranks the air conditioner since it’s much hotter outside than earlier, and I lean into the vent. Wisps of my hair blow in the breeze.
“That would be amazing, but I prefer it cold, not hot,” I say. “I need something sweet to balance out the emotional whiplash of today.”
From waking up in Colt’s arms, to destroying that Camaro with every bit of strength I had, to doing a good deed, it’s a lot to process.
He smirks. “Your wish is my command.”
We pull into the small drive-through coffee stand on the edge of town—a converted feed shack with faded wood siding and a hand-painted menu hanging under the eaves. There’s a planter near the window with a cactus and a tip jar that reads: Be nice or leave .
“This place is kinda new, but it’s great. It’s called The Coffee Shack, and it opened a few weeks ago.”
We pull up to the handwritten drink menu, screwed to the side of the building. I lean closer, my body nearly on his, so I can read it.
“Hmm. I think I’d like a large blended white mocha with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle.”
“Fancy drink for a fancy lady,” Colt says, and his eyes trail down to my lips.
A car pulls up behind us, so he moves forward.
The window of the shack slides open, and he repeats my order. “And an iced caramel coffee for me.”
Not long after, his card is swiped, and our coffee masterpieces are being handed over.
My eyes widen at the size. “Everything really is bigger in Texas.”
Laughter falls from him as we drive away. “I want to taste it.”
I raise an eyebrow, sipping through the straw. “Dunno if you can handle this sweetness.”
“Mmm, I can handle more than you think, darlin’,” he says with a low laugh.
He parks a block away in a spot that overlooks the town square.
“Tell me about Valentine and your last name. How is your family connected?”
“Ah. It’s a fun story. My great-great-great-great-great”—he takes a deep breath—“grandfather laid the groundwork and founded the town. Settled here because of the railroad, started the three-thousand-acre cattle trading ranch my parents currently live on, and the rest is history. The bank building was the first structure constructed in Valentine, followed by the general store and post office. Lots of history here.”
“It’s charming,” I say.
“A Valentine trait.” Colt winks.
I smile and offer him my sugary drink. He waggles his brow as I remove the lid so he can taste the whipped cream, drizzled with chocolate. Some is on the corner of his lips, and I reach over without thinking and wipe it away. I place my thumb in my mouth, tasting it.
“Should’ve licked it off, straight from the source.”
“Contemplated it,” I admit.
We drink and steal glances at each other. Colt eventually gets out of the truck, and I follow him to a weathered park bench that’s shaded by an overgrown tree. The sun filters through the leaves. Next to it is a painted sign that says, Thank you for shopping local.
Colt stretches out beside me, one ankle hooked over his knee, his mouth around the straw of his iced coffee, like it’s the best thing he’s tasted all week. He wraps his other arm around me, and I scoot in close to him as we people-watch. This shouldn’t feel romantic, but somehow, it does.
“Back at the shelter …” I say softly. “You read me well. That’s not easy to do.”
He glances at me, a small, knowing smile pulling at his kissable lips. “I disagree. But it is easier to tell when you’re nervous. Or holding something back.”
“Really?” I tilt my head, skeptical. “What’s my tell then? Since you seem to have me all figured out.”
He chuckles under his breath.
“Don’t laugh,” he warns, brushing his fingers lightly along my arm. “But I can feel it. It’s like a shift in the air. You carry your tension in the way you hold still. And your eyes? They give away everything you don’t say.”
I stare at him, stunned silent.
His gaze softens. “Like right now, you’re wondering how that’s even possible.”
My heart stutters. “You shouldn’t be able to read me like that.”
He shrugs, and it’s easy. “Guess these days, I can predict storms.”
My breath catches at the way he says it. Not just the word, but the way it carries meaning.
“You never cease to amaze me,” I tell him.
And then he leans in, his hand grazing my jaw as his mouth brushes mine.
It’s not demanding. Not rushed. Just a soft, certain press of lips that’s more like a promise than a question. Like he already knew I’d meet him there. And I do.
There’s no need to hide the way I feel. Not here. Not with him.
His lips move against mine with confidence, not demanding more than I’m ready to give, but offering everything if I want it.
I tilt my chin, opening my mouth wider to taste his tongue, deepening the kiss. His hand slides from my jaw to the back of my neck, fingers threading gently through my hair. There’s nothing rushed. It’s a slow burn that starts in my chest and melts outward.