Page 27 of Fixing to be Mine (Valentine Texas #5)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

COLT

I never thought picking out a damn shirt would be so hard. The bed is covered in options, most of which are the same—a handful of button-downs in various shades of blue or black, three clean white ones, and several pearl snaps.

The full-length mirror beside his dresser catches my reflection as I stand there, barefoot in jeans, one hand dragging through my hair. I’ve got a dull ache in my lower back from crouching over baseboards yesterday, but none of that’s what has my chest feeling tight.

It’s her .

This isn’t some casual dinner. It’s not a fake dating situation or a favor. Tonight is real for me, and I want to get it right.

I settle on a crisp white shirt—no pattern, no distractions—and roll the sleeves.

I run a clean cloth over my boots and check the time out of habit, even though I already know there is no rush.

There’s a knock at the open door, followed by the unmistakable clatter of bracelets.

Remi leans against the frame, arms crossed, eyebrows already raised.

“Wow,” she says, dragging the word out like she’s impressed and smug about it. “You even shaved.”

I glance at her in the mirror reflection. “I want to do this right.”

“You will,” she says, walking into the room and flopping onto the end of the bed. “But I know you. You only do the full routine when you’re either going to a wedding or falling for someone.”

I pause, one hand hovering over the cologne bottle.

“She’s not like anyone I’ve ever known,” I admit.

Remi smiles, and it’s kind. “I’m concerned you’re going to get hurt.”

“True love is worth the risk,” I explain, feeling the weight of what this is. Tonight is a bridge between what Stormy and I have been and what we could be. “Our connection isn’t like anything I’ve experienced with another woman. I can’t ignore that even if heartbreak is part of it.”

Remi stands, smoothing the edge of the comforter before stepping over to me. She squeezes my shoulder once. “I want you to be happy.”

I turn around and hug my sister. She’s been beside me through everything, even birth.

“Just look at her the way you always do. Flowers and the picnic basket are in the living room on the coffee table. Now, gotta head to work.”

“Thanks, sis. Love ya,” I say.

“Love you too,” she says, then moves toward the door. “Still convinced you met your wife?”

“Without a doubt,” I tell her with a laugh.

“Love that for you!” she says as she leaves.

A minute later, I hear the front door creak open, then click closed.

When I’m alone again, I sit on the edge of the bed and slide on my boots.

Whatever happens tonight, I won’t play it cool. I’m going to show Stormy exactly what it means to be chosen.

The truck is clean. I even vacuumed the floorboards and wiped down the dash with one of the lemon-scented wipes Remi had left in the glove box months ago. I take the long way to Kinsley’s house because I need the time to stretch a little, to give myself space to think.

When I pull into Kinsley’s driveway, her house is the same it’s always been.

It’s small, a one-bedroom cabin that she’s lived in since she was eighteen.

Now she and Hayden live there together. Eventually, they’ll upgrade because it’s barely big enough for the two of them, but they make it work.

The front windows are open enough to let the sound of music drift out, and it’s followed by laughter.

I grab the flowers from the passenger seat and head up the front steps. Before I can knock, the door swings open, and Summer appears, grinning like she already knows this is the beginning of forever.

“She’s almost ready,” Summer says, stepping outside onto the porch. “You’re lookin’ real nice. Wow. ”

“Thanks,” I tell her.

“Don’t worry; we didn’t overdo it or get too personal,” she explains. “But that woman likes you … a lot .”

The smile that touches my lips might be permanent. “Reckon you’re right about that.”

“It’s funny because I can see how compatible you are. I’mma need you to go ahead and marry her so that the three of us can be The Three Musketeers. Oh, Kinsley did a tarot card pull. True love, apparently.”

Laughter spills out of me. “Okay, but when has she done one and it hasn’t said that?”

Summer nods. “You might be onto something there.”

Before I can respond, I hear footsteps coming down the hallway, and then she appears.

Stormy.

Every damn thought in my head disappears.

She’s wearing a soft rose-colored dress that hits above the knee.

It’s simple, but it fits her like it was made for this exact moment.

Dark hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, and there are small gold hoops in each ear that catch the late afternoon light.

Her bright green eyes find mine as she walks toward me, and something in her expression slightly falters.

Summer and Kinsley move inside, giving me waves, and then we’re left alone.

“Gorgeous,” I mutter. “Wow.”

“Not too bad yourself, cowboy,” she says as I offer her the flowers.

“For you,” I say, my voice lower than I intended.

She takes the bouquet slowly, her fingers brushing mine. There’s a pause that allows the weight of this to settle between us.

“Ready?” I ask, offering my arm.

“Absolutely,” she says, taking it.

I help her into the truck, careful with the bouquet as she climbs in. She settles into the seat, and it hits me again how much I want tonight to matter. It’s the start of a new beginning, not another page in her story.

As I circle the front of the truck and climb in beside her, I glance over and catch her watching me.

“You’re makin’ me nervous,” I tell her, adjusting the key in the ignition.

She bursts into laughter, and I love the sound. “No, you’re making me nervous.”

“Then let’s stop with that,” I say.

She reaches across the console and takes my hand.

I kiss her knuckles and interlock my fingers with hers.

The drive out to Bar V, my family’s ranch, is quiet in a peaceful way.

The kind of quiet that settles when two people don’t need to fill every second with words.

When she gets in her head, I let her stay there without interrupting her.

I know she’s still working through everything that happened with her ex and sister.

She’s handling it better than I ever could.

The sun has started to lower behind the ridge, stretching the shadows long across the fields as we pass the front gates. The cattle guard rumbles under the tires. She’s watching the landscape as it opens—wide and golden and still—and I wonder if she knows how much of this I’ve wanted to show her.

We pull around the main barn and follow the dirt road past the fence line until the trees thicken again.

There’s a side-by-side parked near the tool shed, exactly where I asked Emmett to park it for me.

The second she sees it, her head tilts in that curious way she does when she’s trying to figure out what I’m up to.

“Is this part of the date?” she asks.

“Every bit of it,” I say, putting the truck in park and grabbing the picnic basket full of goodies from behind the seat. “Come on.”

The late sun hits her perfectly, glinting off her earrings, catching in her dark hair, and I have to take a breath to remind myself to stay focused.

I place the picnic basket in the back and strap it in.

“Can I drive?” she asks.

“Um, sure,” I tell her, climbing into the passenger seat. “Do you know how?”

She gives her signature Stormy expression with one brow slightly raised and her mouth quirked, like she’s two seconds away from making me eat my words.

“I’ve driven faster things than this with more horsepower and worse steering,” she says, sliding into the driver’s seat with way too much confidence for someone who’s never taken a side-by-side down a Texas trail.

I buckle in and brace my arm on the frame. “All right, hotshot, try not to flip us.”

She grins like that’s a dare.

The second she turns the key and hits the gas, we lurch forward with a jolt that throws my hand instinctively to the grab bar. Dust kicks up behind us in a thick trail, the engine roaring louder than I expected.

She laughs—a wild, free sound—and glances over at me, her hair whipping in the wind.

“This thing’s got more bite than I thought,” she shouts over the rumble.

“Maybe slow down before we find ourselves off-road.”

“Oh, come on,” she calls out, swerving us down a narrow path that cuts through the trees. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Back there with the picnic basket I strapped in with a seat belt,” I mutter, though I’m grinning too.

She takes the turns sharper than I would, but she’s not reckless, just fearless.

Her hands grip the wheel like she’s in complete control, even if her laughter says otherwise.

Every bounce sends her giggling and adjusting in her seat like she’s trying to prove she belongs in the dirt as much as she ever did in stilettos.

She catches a bump, and we lift off the ground for half a second. When we land, her hair flies around her face, and her mouth opens in a squeal that turns into a breathless, unfiltered laugh.

“Okay,” she gasps, slowing as we round the final curve. “We were airborne.”

I pretend to clutch the dashboard. “Glad you’re enjoying yourself, darlin’. Can’t feel my spine anymore, but go on.”

She nudges me with her elbow and eases the side-by-side to a stop near the overlook. Dust settles around us in a golden cloud.

With a flick of her wrist, she kills the engine, then yanks the parking brake. “You survived.”

“Barely.” I reach out, brushing a windblown strand of hair behind her ear. “Will I survive you?”

“That’s still to be determined,” she says, then leans in and kisses me like she knows exactly what she wants.

“Come on, cowboy,” she says, climbing out. “The night is ours.”

And like that, I’m following her again. Like I always will.