Page 31 of Fixing to be Mine (Valentine Texas #5)

CHAPTER TWENTY

COLT

T he night wraps around us like it’s trying to eavesdrop, the stars out in full above the pond. There’s something holy about being with her like this. It’s like the world paused long enough for us to carve out a piece of forever.

We get dressed and watch the fire with her comfortably on my lap. Stormy sighs with content, like she finally stopped fighting herself.

What we shared was a huge decision we made together, and there is no going back.

I’ve got one hand resting on her thigh, the other holding her steady, not because she’s about to fall, but because I’m not ready to let her go yet.

I watch the way her fingers move slowly over the inside of my forearm, tracing the veins.

I’m not sure she even realizes she’s doing it.

I hold her a little tighter, kissing her hair, and notice her breathing has evened out.

Her walls aren’t down; they’re gone.

For a minute, we don’t talk. We just sit and watch the fire fading in front of us.

The night carries on like nothing has changed, but I have.

All of me has. I didn’t know I was missing anything until she gave it to me.

This feeling. This closeness. This reckless hope that maybe life can be more than plans and repairs and staying one step ahead of being left behind.

I press a soft kiss on her shoulder, where her dress has slightly fallen.

She shifts closer, and that small movement undoes something in me that I didn’t realize was still wound tight.

I’ve been with women before. I’ve touched skin and heard my name on someone’s breath.

But I’ve never felt like this. Not once.

Nothing even comes close. It scares me, but also excites me.

Stormy chose me.

Not as a hiding place, not as a distraction, but as her safety net.

And now that I know what it’s like to be needed by her, I don’t think I can go back to pretending I ever want anything less than forever . The word cements in my chest as we watch the flames die until it’s mostly ash and memory. The last few embers glow hot, but it’s fading fast.

I should put it out, and we should leave.

But I stay like this for another minute, holding her, not wanting the night to end.

I run my hand down her spine, committing it all to memory.

This night. Her laugh. The way her body curls into mine, like she’s been waiting her whole life for someone to cherish her as she is.

Stormy isn’t just in my arms; she’s in every plan I make.

And, damn, that puts a smile on my face.

Even after everything we’ve experienced, in the back of my mind, I know she’s still leaving.

Her thumb rests on my wrist, and I wonder if she notices how erratic she makes my pulse.

“Is this real?” she whispers, like she’s woken from a dream and the world is waiting to snap her back to where she was before us.

I don’t answer right away, not with words. I lift her hand to my mouth and press it there.

“Seems real to me,” I say, voice heavy with everything I’m trying not to say too soon. The last thing I want to do is scare the shit out of her.

She shifts on my lap and turns to face me. I never want to forget how she’s swimming in my eyes. Tonight, she’s allowed me to see every vulnerable part of her. Right now is no different.

“I didn’t want to like you,” she says, half a smile tugging at her lips.

“I got the memo with that whole you’re too young for me bullshit,” I say.

“And yet,” she says, drawing out the words, “here we are.”

“Here we fucking are.” I grin. “Regrets?”

She shakes her head, chewing on her bottom lip. “I’m asking myself when we can do that again.”

“Yeah?” I lift a brow, grinning.

“Yeah,” she whispers.

I push a strand of hair away from her temple, tucking it behind her ear.

“I don’t know how I’m going to leave,” Stormy admits. “My life away from here is so messy.”

“Trust it’ll work out how it should.” I realize I’m sounding woo-woo, like my sister Kinsley. “But I wouldn’t be able to walk away from me either.”

Laughter escapes her, and damn if it isn’t the best sound I’ve ever heard.

She leans her forehead against mine. “You’re getting cocky, Valentine.”

I tilt my head just enough to brush her nose with mine. “I’ve earned it.”

She hums, thoughtful. “You did just ruin me out here. Twice.”

I chuckle. “Darlin’, I’d ruin you everywhere, if you let me.”

Her eyes flick to mine—wide, amused, maybe a little scandalized. “You’re serious.”

“I have a few places I’d like to be adventurous.” I waggle my brows.

“Yeah?” she asks. “Like where?”

“Back of the truck. My old bedroom. Tree house behind my parents’. Every single room at the farmhouse, upstairs included. A bar in town. In the church bell tower.”

Her mouth falls open. “You sinner .”

I chuckle. “You asked.”

She playfully nudges my chest with her fingertips. “Is this your way of asking if I’m in?”

“I mean, it does take two to tango, but now that you’ve brought it up, I’d love for you to be my partner in crime …”

Stormy rolls her eyes, but there’s color rising in her cheeks that tells me she’s not as unaffected as she pretends to be.

“Let’s not get carried away,” she says, already starting to shift off my lap.

I pull her back down. “Too late. You’re sittin’ on the lap of a man planning his entire life around your desperate moans.”

She gasps, “Colt!”

“What?” I grin. “You said you wanted to do it again. I’m just being supportive and suggestin’ locations.”

She laughs again, but this time, she hides her face in my neck. Her lips are against my skin as she mutters, “You are absolutely going to be the death of me.”

“Nah,” I whisper, turning my mouth to her temple. “I’m gonna be the life of ya.”

That stills her. Just for a second. Her fingers curl into the collar of my shirt, like maybe the weight of that line settles somewhere inside her. And maybe it settles in me too.

We sit for another beat; the fire is a whisper. The stars have shifted overhead, and the night air has cooled enough to raise chill bumps across her skin. I kiss her shoulder one more time before she slides out of my arms and stands.

I grab the metal bucket we use to put fires out and dip it into the edge of the pond. The surface is calm, reflecting starlight in the ripples. I fill it, then carry it back to the firepit, pouring it over the glowing remains. The pit hisses, and smoke curls up in a spiral before it vanishes.

Stormy watches me with wild hair and kiss-swollen lips. She’s a dream I only dared to have.

“You ready to go?” she asks.

“Not even a little.”

She laughs. “Come on, cowboy. We have to drive that thing back before someone thinks we eloped.”

“Not the worst idea you’ve ever had,” I say, offering her my hand.

She takes it, fingers lacing with mine. I grab the picnic basket and blanket.

“I don’t know if I’m bride material,” she says.

“You are, darlin’. Just haven’t found the right man yet.”

“Maybe I have.”

By the time we make it to the side-by-side, Stormy pauses before climbing in, glancing back at where we just were.

“I’m going to remember this forever,” she says.

I place a hand on the small of her back and guide her up into the seat. “Good. But know that I plan on givin’ you a hell of a lot more nights worth remembering.”

And with her hand back in mine and the stars stretched out above us, I know we’ve only just begun.

“So, was it worth twenty grand?” I ask.

“Cowboy, I’d have paid a million.”

We ride back in the side-by-side, the engine loud in the stillness, and I keep all four wheels on the ground. She leans into me, her hand resting on my thigh. I reach down and cover it with mine.

I park it where I found it, and then we walk to the truck, giddy and full of smiles.

“What have you two been up to?” I hear from the shadows, seeing Emmett sitting on a lawn chair with a bottle of Hot Damn in his hand.

“Fuck!” I yell at him. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“ Us ,” Stormy says.

His laughter echoes into the night. “Y’all look guilty.”

“Bitch, so do you,” I tell him, and we continue.

“I get to be the best man! I’m claiming it first!” Emmett hollers with a chuckle.

“Remi is my best man,” I say over my shoulder. “Her balls are bigger than yours.”

He howls with laughter as I lead Stormy to the truck. I give her a soft kiss before I close the door.

Once I’m inside and crank the engine, she turns to me. “You think he heard my moans?”

“Possible.” I chuckle. “But I dunno how long he’s been there.”

By the time we pull into the driveway, it’s late. The house is dark, except for the porch light I left on earlier. I run around and open her door, and instead of letting her walk, I lift her into my arms and carry her. I kick the truck door shut.

“This is princess treatment.” She wraps her arms around my neck, kissing right under my ear. “You’re too romantic,” she says, squeezing her thighs together.

“Nah, just Southern.” I set her down on the porch and steal another kiss.

We head inside without turning on the lights. I catch her watching me in the glow of the living room lamp.

She looks tired in the way that comes after incredible sex, not exhaustion. Her body is loose, eyes soft, lips parted just slightly, like she hasn’t quite caught up to what the night gave her.

“Want to take a shower with me?” I ask.

She raises an eyebrow. “Right now?”

“Yes,” I say. “While I wouldn’t mind getting you naked again, I’m sweaty, I smell like campfire, and I want to rinse off. The invitation is open. Always.”

She studies me for a moment, then nods. “Sure. I’d like that.”

I reach for her hand and lead her down the hall.

When we walk in the bathroom, I flick on the light, and she removes her dress, leaving it in a heap by the door. The mirror throws our reflection back at us, and we’re equal parts wild and spent.

I turn on the shower, giving the pipes a second to shudder awake as I undress. Her arms slide around my waist, fingers splayed across my stomach, and her cheek settles between my shoulder blades. We stand, quiet, listening to the water gather force.

Steam fogs the edges of the mirror first. When the shower’s hot, I guide her in, watching her hair darken and stick to her skin. She doesn’t shiver; she just tilts her head back, lets the water fall on her face, and stays like that, breathing, the corners of her mouth softening.

I grab a bar of soap and work up a lather, hands slick and careful, trailing over her arms, down her back, mapping every hard-earned line. She leans into my touch, and her throat releases a sound that’s half purr, half prayer.

“You ever get tired of taking care of everything?” she asks, voice muffled by the hiss of the shower.

“Sometimes,” I admit, rinsing her shoulders. “But it makes me feel useful, I guess. Like I’m doing something that matters to someone besides myself.”

She turns to face me, eyes searching mine. “It does matter.”

I wash her hair, fingers digging gently at her scalp. She closes her eyes and lets her head fall forward, surrendering to it, and I hold her up with an arm around her rib cage. We don’t talk for a while. Just the rhythm of water, the regularity of our breathing, the comfort of each other’s bodies.

I don’t know what is written on her skin or how many times someone else has used or hurt her, but that ends now. Stormy is mine.

When we’re clean, we towel off together, and I give her another one of my T-shirts, loving to see them on her. I don’t bother with anything but boxers. We collapse onto the mattress, limbs tangled.

The only light left in the house is the lamp by my bed, and I reach over and turn it off. She curls into me, fingertips tracing the family brand tattooed on my chest.

Her breathing slows. “Thank you for the best date of my life.”

I smile. “Backatcha.”

She lifts her head and meets my eyes. “I still have to leave—you know that, right?”

“Yes. When that time comes, I won’t ask you to stay even if I want you to,” I confess. “You have to make that decision on your own, darlin’.”

“I know.” She settles again, arm hugging my chest in a way that manages to restrain me and comfort me at the same time.

She’s warmer now, almost feverish, and I can feel her breathing even and slow.

She’s already drifting, but she holds on for one last alert minute—maybe panicked, maybe greedy—her words crowding out in a rush. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

I consider her words, exhaling slowly, as she melts into my side.

“I think you saved me,” I say finally, letting it hang there.

She’s asleep by the time I’ve spoken out loud.

I lie awake after, listening to the settling of pipes and the ancient creaks of the old house. Our skin sticks where we’re pressed together. I try to memorize this moment with her because I don’t know what our future holds.

Even now, under the weight of her sleep, I can feel the ripple of some inevitable goodbye traveling through me.

She’s going to leave, but the reality is she’s always been leaving.

Every day that passes is one less day I’ll have with her, and that thought nearly destroys me.

I hold her a little tighter because I already miss her.

But no matter what happens between what we were and what we’re becoming, I have hope, and I hang on to that.