Page 28 of Fixing to be Mine (Valentine Texas #5)
The firepit is stacked and ready, with a box of matches tucked into a coffee tin beside it.
I’ll have to thank Emmett for helping me with this.
A thick blanket is already spread out near the water, close enough to see the reflections ripple across the surface.
There’s a light breeze coming off the pond, and the whole place smells like pine and earth and fading sunlight.
She takes it all in.
“Colt,” she says, barely above a whisper. “This is stunning.”
I grab the basket and follow her. She glances back at me, her face softer now, eyes wide with something I can’t quite name.
“You did all this?”
“I did,” I admit. “I want tonight to be special, quiet, just us and the big, open sky.”
She kneels on the blanket and opens the basket. I settle beside her as she removes the wine bottle from inside, turning it slowly between her palms.
“I’ve never had anyone do anything like this for me.”
“I’m not anyone, darlin’,” I admit.
“That’s true.” She smiles, and it touches something in me I didn’t know was still aching.
As I uncork the bottle and pour each of us a plastic glass full, the sun dips low enough to paint everything in gold and shadow. The breeze rustles the trees, and a pair of dragonflies skates across the surface of the water.
This is what I wanted for her. Nothing fancy and full of flattery, but space to breathe and live free. Money can’t buy this experience.
We sit back on the blanket, legs stretched out, shoulders almost touching.
She takes a sip, eyes still on the pond. “It’s so quiet.”
“Yeah,” I say. “It’s one of the reasons I love living here.”
Stormy turns toward me then, tucking one leg beneath her. Her face is still pink from the ride, hair a little tangled from the wind, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look more alive.
I nod toward the pond. “I used to come out here when I needed to think. Back when everything felt like a plan I hadn’t quite earned yet. But now? I’m not thinking about what’s next. I’m here, living in the moment with you, drinking wine out of a plastic cup like we’re fancy.”
That earns me a laugh, and she tips her head back as it spills out.
“You knew exactly what I needed,” she says, scooting closer.
I reach out and rest a hand on her knee. “You don’t notice it, but your whole face changes when you’re with me. You just … are.”
“For a long time, I didn’t know what it felt like to sit still.
In my world, life moves fast, and there’s so much to prove.
I worked nonstop and hadn’t taken a vacation in five years.
These past two weeks have …” She swallows hard.
“Being here, being with you, has changed my outlook on life, and I realize I was stuck in the rat race.”
Stormy leans her head on my shoulder, and I feel her breath slip out slow.
“You’ve changed me too. And that’s fucking scary because what happens next?”
“I don’t know,” she admits. “Taking it one day at a time.”
Stormy’s stomach growls, and I laugh.
“Hungry?”
“Starving,” she says, pulling away.
I open the basket and pull out napkins, a container of Mama’s fried chicken, macaroni, and a tub of still-warm peach cobbler. There’s cornbread, too, wrapped in foil.
Stormy watches me unpack it like I’m going to do a magic trick.
“You made this?” she asks.
“Mom made it with a knowing smile and too many questions about you.”
“Like what?”
I hand her a plastic plate. “Mostly how serious we were. And whether she should set another plate for you at dinner next month.”
She laughs, but I don’t miss the way her smile lingers afterward.
Stormy picks up a piece of cornbread and breaks off a bite-sized corner. “What did you say?”
“I hope so,” I admit.
“Me too,” she tells me.
“When you return to the city, you think you’ll forget about this?” I ask.
“Not possible.” It’s a simple truth, one I hang on to.
For a few minutes, we eat without talking much.
The pond ripples with the breeze. A pair of birds chases each other between branches overhead.
She chews slowly, like she’s savoring more than the food.
I study her out of the corner of my eye, watching the way the gold light touches the slope of her shoulder, how her ankle rocks back and forth slightly when she’s thinking.
She’s present with me, and that’s enough.
“This is really good,” she says, pointing her fork at the cobbler. “Like, dangerously good.”
“I’ll let Mom know you enjoyed it.”
“Please do,” she says with a grin.
Her expression softens, and she shifts slightly, her knees brushing mine.
“You do this often?” she asks. “Bring women out here with home-cooked meals and perfectly timed sunsets?”
“Just you,” I say without hesitation. “It’s a special place. Each of my brothers has brought dates out here, and I thought, Why the hell not? Worked out for Beckett .”
Her gaze holds mine, steady now. “He brought Summer here?”
“He did and proposed not long after.”
“She’s very nice. So is your sister. Everyone is so kind and welcoming.”
She doesn’t look away. She doesn’t smile this time either.
Instead, she sets her empty plate and fork inside the basket and leans a little closer.
“This is where I usually deflect,” she says.
“You don’t have to,” I tell her.
“I know, and that’s what’s terrifying.”
The air between us changes, tension wrapping tightly around us.
I place my plate inside the picnic basket as well and refill our wine.
The light is fading now, the sky turning shades of rose and indigo, and the first stars are beginning to appear.
I reach out and tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.
My fingers brush the shell of it, and she doesn’t pull away, but her breath catches enough to make my own shallow.
“This is terrifying,” I say. “You’re the person I’ve been waiting to meet.”
She blinks, and I can see the way that hits her.
“I’m scared of how much I want this,” she admits.
I press my palm over hers. “Then let me be the one thing you don’t have to be scared of.”
Stormy doesn’t speak right away.
Her hand stays pressed against my chest, fingers resting over the beat of my heart, like she’s listening with more than her ears. She doesn’t look down. Her eyes stay locked on mine, like she’s waiting for one last sign.
I lift my hand slowly, giving her every chance to stop me, and gently cradle her jaw. My thumb traces the edge of her cheekbone, the warmth of her skin grounding me in the reality of this moment.
When she leans in, it’s not rushed or uncertain.
It’s her saying yes.
And when I kiss her, it isn’t careful. Everything I’ve been holding back is poured into it. Her lips part beneath mine, and my heart comes unstitched. She tastes like wine and sugar, but there’s more beneath that like I’m wrecking and rebuilding her world at the same time.
She exhales sharply, and I feel it against my mouth.
Stormy grips my shirt, pulling me closer, like maybe she needs something solid to hang on to, and I want to be that for her. I want to be the thing she can count on when everything else starts to blur.
Her kiss deepens, and I meet it with everything I’ve got.
My hand slides into her hair, fingers threading through the soft strands at the nape of her neck.
She tilts her head, letting me in further.
She’s not kissing me like someone who’s leaving.
She’s kissing me like a woman who’s finally found home.
And I kiss her back like a man who’s been waiting his whole damn life to find her.
The world narrows down to the pressure of her mouth, the sound of her breath, and her body leaning into mine. The pond in front of us, the fading sun, the breeze in the trees—it disappears, leaving only us.
Eventually, I ease back, giving enough space to breathe. Her lips are parted, her eyes still closed, like she wants to stay suspended in this moment a little longer. I do too.
When her eyes finally open, she looks at me like I’m the man who sees her, and I do.
“It’s never felt like that with anyone else,” I say quietly, my voice rough around the edges.
A slow smile curves her mouth, small but completely unguarded.
“For me either,” she whispers. “Even if I don’t want to admit that.”
I rest my forehead against hers, letting the air settle between us. My hand is still in her hair. Hers is still fisted in my shirt, and we don’t rush. We just fall.